Chapter Forty-Seven: "What. The Fuck. Is Happening?!"
I AWAKE WITH a pounding headache, and the house phone ringing.
I stir in my sleep, and frown when I realize that I am not in my bed.
Where the hell am I?
It's so comfortable, so soft and warm, like silk. Or maybe it's the body pressed up against me?
Wait, what? A body? Oh no, please have clothes on, please have clothes on!
I close one eye and look down under the sheets, and see my feet tangled up with much larger and hairier legs, but surely enough, I'm wearing an oversized shirt over my body, and my miniskirt that was once on my hips, is now at my ankles.
What happened?
I try to turn around without moving as much as possible, not just for the sake of waking the unknown boy beside me up, but also to not shake my brain too hard.
I sigh in relief when I see that it's only Landon beside me, and suddenly all the things that happened last night come flooding back to me: party nerves, Atticus, drinking, Atticus again, drinking again, the fight, Maya and Lance, and Landon saying he doesn't sleep with girls. Like, only sleep.
But here he is, sleeping, with me, a girl, in his bed, with him in it. He never left, and I was never kicked outâbut if that ever happened, why the hell would he offer me to sleep in his room with him, then?
Okay, brain overload and I've legitimately only been awake for a minute and a half.
I stare at the beautiful boy beside me, who looks very peaceful when he sleeps. He doesn't snore, but his nose kinda whistles, which is pretty cute if you ask me. His eyebrows are scrunched up like one would when they're trying to listen carefully or concentrate on something, and half his face is hidden in his arm, making him look a lot chubbier than he really is.
I smile softly and try to slip out of his hold, but he's a lot stronger than I thought, apparently.
I finally escape out of his arms and I tiptoe out of his room to get to mine to put on appropriate clothes so I can go downstairs. I peek around corners for any sign of people, and when I come clear, I race upstairs to my room.
It smells faintly like alcohol, and I scrunch up my nose but head to my shower anyway. There wasn't much to undress out of so I quickly slide out of them and into the hot shower.
After washing my hair and the necessities, I turn off the water and wrap a towel around myself, and my hair. I exit and scavenge my closet for clean clothes, and settle again on sweats and a tank top, with a loose sweater. I told dad I'd be home around late lunch, and I have no idea what time it is now.
I slide on some socks and grab my glasses off my nightstand so I can see when I cook breakfast. I've been doing a lot better lately with eating, and hopefully today I can make the accomplishment of eating half a meal.
I quickly brush my tangly hair and throw on my frames, grabbing my phone and heading downstairs.
I check the time on the stove as I grab some bacon and my eyes widen.
It's five in the damn morning!
I put the bacon away.
There's no way in hell that people would be awake at five in the morning after having a night like last night.
The whole house is a mess, and there's a couple of people passed out on the floor, and someone is even halfway on the couch and floor. I walk closer to them to wake them up and kick them out, and I roll my eyes when I see that Jacob is sprawled on the floor, while Zach is the one halfway on the couch.
I walk back to the main floor bathroom closest to the kitchen and raid the cupboards for some acetaminophen. I find some extra strength Tylenol and grab the bottle for when everyone else starts to wake up. I walk back to the kitchen and grab the apple juice, pouring myself a glass before popping the tablets in my mouth and swallowing them.
For the next while, I just chill in the den of the house, scrolling through my phone and having the National Geographic channel playing in the background. Eventually, I end up falling asleep.
***
When I wake up, the TV is off and a blanket is placed over me. I notice that my glasses are off, and placed on the table across from me.
How long had I been asleep?
I toss the blanket on the back of the chair and walk outside, and see that everyone is awake and grumpy. Landon is on the couch watching some reruns, Liam is across from him with a facecloth placed over his face, Zach and Jacob are cooking, and Maya and Lance are sitting at the island drinking, what I am assuming, is coffee.
Louis is MIA.
The house is fully cleaned up now, and I'm actually surprised. It looks nicer than it did before the party. These guys are really good housecleaners; I should've had them cleaning my house back in California.
"What time is it?" I ask aloud, getting all heads turning to me.
"Noon." Maya grumbles, rubbing her temples. Ha! Suits her for drinking so much! "Now, can you please shut up?"
"That's what you get for drinking alcohol." I smirk victoriously. Yeah, I drank, and yes, I have a hangover, but looking at these guys and comparing myself to them, I got pinched and they got the full-out claw. Landon doesn't seem too hungover, though if he is, he's very good at hiding it.
"Didn't I just tell you to shut up?" She snaps. "Take a hint, Brooklyn, God."
I roll my eyes and scratch my head. "I should probably get ready anyway." I say, and steal a piece of bacon off Lance's plate. I think he's passed out, I'm not sure.
"What time do you have to go?" Landon asks, turning to me. He doesn't look bad. He looks tired, if anything, but that's a teenager thing. He still looks hot as hell, and his hair is all over the place.
Not to mention his lack of clothing. . . he only has loose sweats on, with a bare chest.
"I told my dad early afternoon. I'd say around two." I reply.
"I'll drop you off." He says, leaving me no room for arguments. I nod, and move to sit beside him but the ringing of my phone interrupts me.
"Oh. Excuse me." I pardon myself and walk towards the back of the house, pulling my phone out. It's my dad. "Hey Papa."
"Hey, baby. How are you?" He says happily, and I furrow my eyebrows, wondering why he's in high spirits.
"I'm good. Tired, since I was up at five this morning, but I'm good." I reply suspiciously. "How about you, Papa? You seem very happy."
"Is a man not allowed to be happy?" He shoots back.
"No, no, of course you can, it's just weird. It's noon, and you sound like a child who just got told they're going to Disney World."
"Whatever," he laughs. "Anyway, I have some news for you. But I'll tell you when you get back at the hotel, okay?"
"Yeah, sure thing," I reply.
"When will that be, exactly?" He presses, and I roll my eyes.
"Two, dad." I chuckle. "Give me until two, okay? I just woke up."
"Great! That works wondrously. I'll see you then, Angel. Love you!"
"Love you too, Papa." I say cautiously, and chuckle awkwardly when he hangs up.
Why is he so happy?
"Everything okay?" Landon asks once I step back into the room.
"Yeah," I say unsurely. "Everything is fine, I think."
"Good." He says. "Now, come sit." He pats the seat beside him and I roll my eyes, walking to the living room and sitting down beside him. He slings an arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer.
Now I was seriously questioning what we were.
I know we confessed feelings and whatnot, but does this mean we're boyfriend-girlfriend, or casually dating? Because I've seen people tell the other their feelings and they act like a couple, but then when people ask, one says they're just seeing each other and the other says it's their boyfriend or girlfriend.
I don't want to face that embarrassment, because it's miscommunication and that is something I don't do.
"Why do people have to be so complicated?" I whisper as I place my head on his shoulder. "Why does life have to be so complicated?"
He places his head on top of mine and exhales deeply. "I don't know," he whispers back. "I'd like to think of life as a game of cards. You're dealt either a good hand or a bad hand, and you work your way from there. If it's a good hand, then you just go with it until you know you have the power to do what you think is best for yourself and how to get victory. And if you're dealt a bad hand, then you just try your damned hardest to try and not lose the whole game. You set out your weakest sets until you have a strong suit. When that happens, you prove to everyone that you may have lost in the beginning, but won in the end."
"So the dealt cards are your family, or parents, and the game is life, right?" I question. I have never heard of an explanation of life being described like that, but it wasn't deep. It was easily understandable, but I just needed clarification.
See?
My whole life now revolves around clarification because I was confused rolling with Riverton. Now, I need to understand everything before I take anything into consideration.
He chuckles before nodding. "Yes, exactly that. I don't know, it sounds stupid but I guess that's how I think of it. I always thought I had a bad hand but I guess it's pretty good after all."
"Is it your past that makes it a bad deal?" I ask.
He stiffens, and nods slowly. "Yeah, it is." He responds.
I shift in my seat to face him more, tossing my legs over his and propping my elbow up on the back of the couch, placing my head on my hand. "I don't think having a bad past makes your hand bad." I sigh. "It just makes it more difficult to play."
He nods, agreeing with me or understanding what I'm saying, I don't know, but I'm taking it as the chance he has to change the subject.
I don't question him. He has his reasons for not speaking about it, but for me, I guess I can say that I'm okay with telling Landon about my past. At first, I hated it because I thought I was a really bad person. I thought that because I was under people who committed murder, made me a murderer automatically as well, even though that was by far the case.
Now, I realize that what I did never overpowered murder. I've done a lot of wrong, but murder was never one of them.
I think the worst I've ever done was stab some pervert in the hand with a pocket knife because he tried to touch my boob without my consent.
Maybe if I told Landon about my story, he would feel comfortable enough to tell me his?
Even if that weren't the case, I'd still tell him. He'd probably tell me eventually, but I wouldn't pressure him. I understand how hard it is explaining something painful.
"Are you hungover?" I ask him eventually.
"Yes." He scoffs.
"You're an amazing actor." I compliment, and he chuckles softly.
"I'm not trying, babe." He whispers, and then says louder, "I actually took like four Tylenol tablets earlier."
I shake my head. "Of course."
"Lance stop!" Maya screeches, making me snap my head to the sudden speaker that screeched and made my head pound.
"Maya!" I exclaim. "Simmer."
"No!" She growls. "He keeps shaking me!"
"Oh whatever," Lance says, drawing whatever into three syllables.
"You're the reason I feel like this in the first place." She snaps.
"Ouch, that hurt, babe." Lance says, feigning hurt. I don't fail to catch the eye roll, though. "Want a kiss to make it better?"
"Yeah!" I yell. "Maybe lock the door, too!"
"Shut up, Brooklyn!" She screams. "You know what, fuck you all! I'm going to bed."
"Don't be such a Debbie Downer." Zach says, rolling his eyes as he places more bacon on a plate.
Suddenly, Maya gets up off her chair and storms up to Zach, slapping him across the face. "It's your fault!" She screams, her voice falling into hiccups. Is she crying? "You are the one who fed me all those fucking Jell-O shots, you asshole!"
Zach gets another slap across the face before Maya storms off, crying.
"Oh shit," I gasp, placing my hand over my mouth in shock.
That went from feeling sick to enrage real quick.
Lance groans, and sighs. "I'll go talk to her." He grumbles.
"No, I will," I say softly, about to get up but he puts a hand out, gesturing for me to stop.
"Nah, it's okay, Brooklyn, I need to talk to her anyway." He says softly, and I sit back down with a frown as he walks upstairs.
"Um," I say unsurely, "did I miss something?"
"Nope," Landon says, his eyes trained back on the TV. "She's always like that when she has hangovers."
"So she always slaps Zach across the face?" I press.
"It's actually usually Jacob." He replies. "Zach I guess spoke first."
"Except she usually kicks him in the sack." Liam interferes, and my eyes widen. She's violent!
I love it!
For the next hour or so, we all sat around the table eating. Louis finally came down looking like a ghost, and Maya and Lance never returned. We all made small talk, but tried to keep it moderate so we wouldn't laugh and feel sick.
I excused myself about twenty minutes ago to get showered, rid myself of my nausea, and get ready to go back go the hotel to spend time with my dad. We spent a lot of the weekend together, and all week was pretty great and smooth-going for me. With Annabelle being suspended, Mary ignoring me, and Atticus and I on semi-good terms, I had a pretty stress-free week.
Of course that didn't include my panicking for when Annabelle returns to school.
"You okay?"
I snap my head to the left and see Maya coming up my steps. She looks better than she did earlier, and doesn't seem as pissed off.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I lie. "Why?"
"You seemed out of it," she shrugs. "Is it Landon?"
I shrug. "I suppose some of it is, but it's more towards what's going to happen at school on Monday."
"Why would you be so worried about Monday?" She asks. "It's school property, she can't do anything to you, Brooklyn."
"Have you ever been targeted, Maya?" I ask suddenly.
She looks at me with slightly wide eyes and a curious and confused face. Her mouth opens and closes, like she's speechless. "Ughâum. . . t-targeted how?"
"Targeted." I say blandly. "Any way."
"Nâno?" She stammers.
"Your gang," I speak up, "you never been targeted by rivals?"
"Um, no? Not y-yet?"
"This is a pretty simplistic topic, you shouldn't be confused or lost." I say harshly.
"I haven't." She says. "What's gone on with you?"
"You see, I've been in a gang before, too, alright?" I tell her. "I've been on the targeting side and the targeted side. Now, I'm not that person anymore. I've changed. A lot. I am a fucking wimp, who used to be strong emotionally and mentally, and extremely intelligent, and now I'm lucky if I get a seventy-five in grades. A stable, strong, A plus average student, who is now as dumb as a doorknobâmaybe even dumber. "
"Brookâ"
"Nope, not finished yet." I put my hand up.
When I feel sick, or am hungover, I am usually very irritable. It isn't like I want toâactually, inside right now I am completely content. It's weird, how I work, and I'm still trying to figure myself out.
"Everything I used to be is now out the door. I'm sensitive, I'm extremely nice, and I don't drink unless it's a good event. So, imagine how I feel now that I'm targeted by a girl who apparently is not to be messed with? I am fucking terrified because every mean bone in my body has vanished, and with that stunt she pulled on Tuesday, that'll start bringing my attitude back and I don't want that! I don't. . . I don't want to be mean anymore, Maya, and she's going to turn me into a heartless bitch."
Maya's eyes widen even more and she rushes up to me, pulling me into a tight hug. "I'm sorry!" She whispers frantically. "I'm so sorry."
"So to answer your question," I sniffle, pulling away from her, "I am most definitely, not okay."
"Okay." She nods. "Okay."
I smile tightly at her, and toss her my makeup bag. "Put that in that bag." And point to a small duffel I brought.
I needed to grab some hygiene from here that I didn't have at the hotel. My time of the month is supposed to be here any day now, and that way I save dad the hassle of running an errand for me.
"Expecting?" She teases, and I laugh softly.
"Any day now." I reply, zipping it up.
"We sound like you're pregnant." She giggles, and I join her.
"You're pregnant?"
I look behind Maya and see Lance looking at me with shock and worry.
"No." I exclaim. "Not even close."
"When why did I hear her say, 'like you're pregnant' if you aren't?"
"Because she made a reference to my period about sounding like I was due to give birth soon." I point out, and all he does is nod.
He seems to be unbothered by the topic.
"Oh, by the way," I say as I throw the duffel over my shoulder. It's light, so nobody can snatch it out of my hands claiming it's a boulder. "It's better if you don't talk to me sometime next week for the rest of the week. And to not bother me. Or backtalk me. Or make fun of me. Oh, and don't be surprised or questioning me if I cry, scream, yell, or complain about everything and anything."
He gives me a weird look and laughs nervously. "Why?"
"Because I am a woman." I say, pushing past him and descending down the stairs.
"Wait!" Lance calls down behind me. "What's that supposed to mean?"
There's hushed whispers from behind me, probably Maya elaborating for him.
"Oh, wait, never mind!" He shouts, and I chuckle, rolling my eyes.
I reach the bottom, opening my door, and run face-first into a hard chest. "Oomph!"
"Shit!" Zach cusses, and reaches out to stabilize me. "Sorry, Rookie."
"It's good," I huff out panickedly. He scared the living crap out of me. "You caught me by surprise."
"Touché." He breathes out. "You good?"
"Yep." I say. "I'll see you Monday."
"Leaving so soon?" He questions, following me down the other flights.
"Yes," I reply. "My dad has some. . . exciting news, I guess, that he wants to tell me."
"Ooh," he hums, "what kind of exciting news?"
I giggle. "I don't know. He didn't explain."
"Ready?" Landon asks once we reach the kitchen.
"Yes." I answer. Lance and Maya show up, confusingly holding hands. What the hell is going on between them? What about Maya's other guy. . . Tyson?
"Okay, let's go." He grins, and I turn back around to Maya, who's blushing at something Lance said.
"You," I say, grabbing her attention and pointing a finger at her, "are going to explain."
"I will." She says with a small smile. "Promise."
Landon tugs at my bags straps and I turn around, saying goodbye to everyone before closing the door behind me.
Only to stop in my tracks and cuss.
"What?" Landon questions confusedly.
"I forgot my glasses." I grumble. He chuckles and I roll my eyes, quickly running back inside and to the den, grabbing my glasses off the table. I swear, I'll need an alarm system every time I take them off.
And you'd think I'd remember them considering I can't be looking at anything farther than six feet ahead of me without it being a blurry mess.
When I grab them, I say a sheepish goodbye once again and rush out of the house, hopping into Landon's truck that's already started and throwing my frames on the dashboard.
"Got everything?" He teases once we hit the highway.
"I do now." I roll my eyes. "So what's going on between Maya and Lance? I thought she was with that Tyson guy?"
Landon shrugs. "Tyson is an idiot. He keeps breaking up with her and getting back together because he misses her."
"So they're together?"
"At the moment, they're speaking. They're, like, casually dating, I guess."
"Is that what we're doing?" I ask. "Casually dating?"
"Ugh. . ." He says sheepishly. "IâI was hoping not?"
"Okay." I sigh in relief. "Just wanted to know."
"Well, we confessed our feelings to one another so I just assumed. . ."
"Yeah, I get it." I say. "I've just. . . I seen people say they're boyfriend-girlfriend and the other say they're just seeing each other, and there's that whole awkward thing and considering you never popped the question I was just confusedâ"
"If you want me to ask, I'll ask." He laughs. "I just thought we were at that part."
"You don't have to," I say, shrugging like it's no big deal, when it actually kinda is to me. I really like Landon, and knowing how we stand helps me from overthinking. "I am just one for clarification and miscommunication embarrasses me."
He chuckles, and grabs my hand, interlocking it with his own. "You overthink a lot, don't you?"
"A lot would be an understatement," I chortle.
"Wow," he breathes, "that's tough."
I shrug again. "It is what it is. I try not to think too much about it." I add a little humour in there to help me stay focused.
He laughs wholeheartedly, and squeezes my hand. We're silent for a while, until he breaks it. "What do you think has your dad so happy?"
"I'm hoping it's so I can go home," I say excitedly.
"Go home?" He asks, hurt in his voice.
My eyes widen. He's taking this the wrong way! "I mean for the break." I say quickly. "If my grades are good enough, I might be able to go to LA for Christmas break."
"Oh." He says, his shoulders slumping in relief. "Well, um, that's good."
My eyebrows furrow. "Then why do you seem so. . . bothered by it?"
"I'm not 'bothered' by it per se," he says, using his fingers to make quick quotations on the word 'bothered.'
"I'm not moving back there, Landon." I tell him.
"I know, I know," he groans, "but you said you plan on it. You plan on getting your schooling done or getting enough money and then you're leaving."
"Because I have a life there." I growl out.
"And you have a life here, too!" He protests.
"I left all my friends back in California for this damn country. I hated the way I left and I hated the way I arrived here against my own will."
"And you still haven't thought about staying?"
"No."
"Even after we've gotten together?"
"It's been a week, Landon." I groan, already knowing an argument is going to form. "And not that you haven't noticed or anything, but I have had a hell couple weeks lately and to think of my future is the least of my worries at the moment."
"Will you ever think of it?"
"Well, yeah, probably." I say. "No offense to you or anything, but I'm just not getting my hopes up over it. I mean, we're teenagers, Landon. You're seventeen and sexually curious, and I'm trying to focus on my schooling and not losing my head."
"And you're not?" He questions, referring to my first statement.
"Of course I am, but it's not a priority!"
I haven't noticed that we have already reached the hotel and he has already shut the truck off. It's a little cold in here, and I ponder how long we've been here.
He clears his throat after staring at me for a few minutes. "You should go, your dad's probably waiting."
What. The fuck. Is happening?!
I frown, my shoulders slumping. "Don't be like this, please." I plead. "This is stupid."
"So now staying here with me is stupid?" He laughs dryly.
"That's not what I meant and you know it."
"Well, maybe I don't."
"Landon." I warn. "Stop making a big deal out of this! We've been dating a week, alright, but if it had been a month then this would have been different!"
"You've lived with us for over two months. Has your perspective on anything changed?"
I gulp. To answer his question: no, nothing has changed my view of things. The only thing I think differently is that the McGibbon's aren't as bad as I thought they were going to be. Besides that, everything is still the same. I still want to get out of here and go back home to be with my friends, I want to pretend like nobody here knows me so I can live my time here uninterrupted, and I failed to not befriend this family.
The only thing holding me back to Canada now is Landon.
However, we're only at the liking stage. There is no deep emotion linking us together; it's just a crush. That being said, if I had the chance to move back then I would in a heartbeat. Of course I'd feel bad for Landon and miss his company, but it's not like I love him, where leaving him will be painful. Sure, it may hurt for a little bit, but I'd get over it.
If I got over Taylor, then I can get over Landon just as easily.
I don't answer his question as I open the door, grabbing my bag. "I'll see you Monday."
I slam the door closed behind me and sigh heavily, running my fingers through my hair in aggravation.
I simply told him why my dad was happy, and he snapped over it.
This is exactly why I don't like boys.
"Brooklyn."
I stop in my tracks at his voice, my spine getting shivers at how cold and distant his tone is. I spin around and see Landon looking at me stoically and impatiently.
"What do you want." I say in a clipped tone. It wasn't a question.
"Your glasses." He holds them up, and I huff, stomping back and grabbing them out of his hands, putting them over my eyes. I really need a GPS on these things.
I walk away without looking back.
Looks like I'll be eating lunch in the library after all.