Chapter 8: Open Your Door

I forgot to close my curtains last night.

I opened them so I could open the set of glass doors that lead to my balcony so I could climb on to the roof of my house, and when I climbed back in, I closed my door, but apparently I didn't close the curtains.

The sun streams through the glass and hits my closed eyes and I squeeze them.

God fucking shit.

I groan and roll to my right.

I didn't anticipate the fact that I might already be on the right side of the bed, so when I roll, I fall off my bed and hit the floor with a thud.

I groan in pain.

It's way too early for this shit.

I use my bed for support and stand up.

And then I kick it.

But, of course, my dumbass didn't think about how I would be kicking a hard metal frame and not the soft cushiony mattress, so I hit three of my toes.

Hard.

"Fuck," I groan and I grip my right foot, hopping on my left.

As I'm hopping, I'm letting out a string of curses. I'm so fucking clumsy in the mornings.

My foot lands on my remote that must have fallen off my bed in the middle of the night, and my eyes widen as I start to fall backwards.

My back hits the floor with a thud and the air gets knocked out of me.

"Ow..." I groan.

Why do I do this to myself?

I get up slowly and make my way to my balcony doors to close my fucking curtains.

And then I do a double take.

Please don't tell me he saw that.

I open my curtains again to see Aaron looking through his set of doors and laughing.

Like, laughing hard.

Of course he gets the bedroom with the balcony directly across from mine.

I close my eyes as the embarrassment causes my cheeks to heat up.

I hate myself.

He opens his doors and I do the same, the both of us stepping out onto our respective, relatively small, balconies.

"Wow, Cassie," he says through his laughter, his forearms resting on his balcony rail. "That was a great performance. Have you ever thought about taking up a job as a stunt double?"

Our houses are pretty close to each other, making it easy for him to speak normally.

"Fuck you."

"I've said it before and I'll say it again," he says with a smirk on his face. "You're not my type."

I glare at him. "You're such an asshole."

"I've been called worse," he shrugs.

"I can't believe you saw that," I groan.

"I can't believe it either." He smirks at me. What is it with him and smirking? "I didn't believe it was possible to fall out of bed, hurt your toe kicking said bed, and then fall to the ground while hopping. But, thanks to you, I now know it is."

He starts laughing again, this time throwing his head back.

And that's when I notice that he doesn't have a shirt on.

My eyes trail over what seems like miles and miles of tanned skin, complete with a delicious six pack and v-line.

Holy kazoos in the country.

My face gets even hotter, and I imagine I look like a tomato.

What is happening to me?

"Are you blushing, Cassie?"

I shake my head furiously.

Deny, deny, deny.

"It's okay," he says, glancing down at himself. "I know I'm hot."

I'm still so caught up in... him that I can't even roll my eyes.

"I'm not blushing, and you're not that hot, get over yourself," I say quickly, once I've managed to gather myself.

He laughs again and I spin around, shut my doors, and close the curtains.

Fucking asshole.

I look through my closet for sweatpants and a T-shirt, only to find that all of the ones I own are missing.

I place my hand on my chest and run into my parents' room.

"Mom," I say frantically. "Mom, we've been robbed."

My mom slowly walks out of her bathroom and sighs dramatically.

"What?"

"We've been robbed. All of my clothes are missing and––"

"Oh, you mean your sweatpants and T-shirts and hoodies and sweatshirts and stuff?"

"Yeah," I say. "All of them. We need to call the cops and file a report or––"

"We weren't robbed, sweetie."

I stop talking and blink at my mom.

"What?"

"We weren't robbed. I took all of that stuff out of your closet this morning and Grace came over while you were asleep to pick all of it up."

I blink at her again, at a loss for words.

"What?"

She sighs impatiently. "Just get dressed in something else, you still have plenty of clothes."

She moves past me and walks out of the room.

"What?" I say again, even though she's gone.

---------

I hold my phone to my ear, listening to it ring.

"Pick up the fucking phone, Gracie," I mutter under my breath.

"Hello?"

"You bitch. Why haven't you been––"

"Hello?" She draws out the word.

"Gracie? Can you hear me?"

"I can't hear you," she sings.

I move by my window. "Can you hear me now?"

Silence.

And then she starts giggling.

"Sorry for that. This is Graciella and I'm obviously away from my phone right now. I mean, why else would I not be answering? Maybe if I'm trying to ignore your call. Your contact info shows up on my screen every time you call, and if I don't pick up that means I'm obviously trying to avoid you and your calls. Oh, snickerdoodles, forget I said that. If I'm actually trying to ignore you and you heard that, then you would know and that would place me in a very awkward situa––"

Beep.

I hang up.

If she's ignoring me, she's dead.

Me: hey

Me: gracie

Me: why are you ignoring me?

Nothing. No response.

Me: graciella ruth washington I swear to God if you don't text back I'm telling your mom

Sorry, Gracie.

Gracie: oh hey Cass

Gracie: just got your txt

Gracie: and look

Gracie: there's a missed call from u

Gracie: I had no idea u called

Gracie: what's up

Gracie: how u doing

Me: I'm coming to your house

Me: don't go anywhere

Gracie: boo

I know that I was a little harsh, but Gracie's never ignored me before, so I'm in uncharted territory here.

Even when she was mad at me because I kept teasing her when she liked this dude she didn't ignore me; she straight up told me that I was being a jerk and she didn't like it.

Gracie's a really straightforward, open, and honest person, saying what she means, though it takes a while to reach the point, and meaning what she says, so it's a little weird for one of her key personality traits to suddenly change.

That doesn't mean I won't murder her and recruit Gabs to help me hide her body.

I walk out of my room and down the stairs.

I reach the front door and am about to open it when my mom's voice rings out from upstairs.

"Cass!"

I huff out a breath. "Yes, mother?" I yell back.

"Come here!"

"Why?"

"Get your butt up here, young lady!"

I groan.

"I just wanna fucking leave," I mutter under my breath.

"Let me know how that goes for you."

I jump and look at my father who's drinking a cup of coffee to my right.

"Dad!" I say, shocked. "I was just saying how much I appreciated all that you and my loving mother have done for me throughout my seventeen years of life and––"

He gives me a disbelieving look and I sigh.

"Fine, I'll go apologize."

He nods, obviously dismissing me, and I walk up the stairs.

"Fifty cents in the jar."

No, really? I think sarcastically.

"And watch the sarcasm, Cassandra."

My eyes widen as I register the fact that I said that out loud.

"Yes, sir."

I walk up the stairs and into my mom's room. "Yes?"

She stares at me for a few seconds before speaking.

"I need the remote."

Oh, you mean the remote that's literally a foot away from you?

I blink at her and sigh.

---------

I'm standing outside Gracie's door, waiting for her, or someone, to come and open the door.

Which is taking forever.

I don't have a car, and my parents refuse to let me use theirs, but one of the good things about living in the same neighborhood as one of your best friends is that they're within walking distance.

A bad thing is that they're within walking distance which means I can't get my parents to drive me, which means I have to—ugh—exercise.

I'm too lazy for this shit.

The door opens.

"Finally," I mutter under my breath.

Gracie stands in the doorway, blocking the entry, and I raise my eyebrows at her.

"Yes?" she says curtly, and I jump back, surprised at her tone.

"Can I come in?"

She stays silent and I take that as a no.

"What's going on with you, Gracie?"

"Nothing."

"What's with the one-word answers?"

"What?" she says angrily. "I can't get straight to the point sometimes?"

"Yes, but––"

"Was there something you wanted, Cass?"

My head hurts. Everything hurts, and I think this conversation is the cause of it.

We're supposed to best friends, ones that tell each other everything that's wrong, ones that are never afraid to be honest with each other.

So what changed?

"I just wanted to know if you were okay."

My voice sounds strangely vulnerable, and I think Gracie hears it to because her face softens and she sighs.

"I'm okay, Cass, really. It's just... a lot has been going on, and I need some time to process it. By myself."

My eyebrows furrow.

"Is that okay?" she asks me timidly.

I'm about to say no, we should be telling each other everything, but something in her eyes stops me.

A begging look.

She's basically begging me not to pursue the issue, and, as much as I want to, I can't ignore that.

I sigh heavily. "Yeah."

Her body relaxes and she opens the door and steps aside. "Still want to come in?"

I eye her.

Now that we've established that we're no longer talking about what's going on with her, she seems fine again.

Maybe she does need some time to herself to work through whatever she's going through.

"Yeah, why not?"

She grins and jumps up and down. "Fast and Furious marathon?"

"Of course."

She giggles and runs into her kitchen to pop some popcorn.

"Gracie?" I say, walking into the kitchen.

"Yeah?" she says, turning around to face me from the other side of her kitchen island.

"You know you can talk to me, right? I'm here for you, no matter what."

She swallows and nods. "I know, Cass. Which is why I want to wait. You're still going to be here if I can't work through it, and if I can, then I'll tell you and you won't have to worry."

But I want to worry. It's my unofficial job.

I stare at her before nodding. "I guess I'm fine with that, if that's what you want to do."

"It is."

"Well," I sigh happily. "Let's get this marathon started."

The microwave beeps and the grin is back on Gracie's face.

"I can't wait! I love Paul Walker. I mean, in the first movie, I hated him and his acting, but he's so cute and the things he does and the way he says them... I love him. And don't even get me started on Vin Disel. I love him just as much. Ooh, and Dwayne Johnson. There's a three-way tie between the three of th––"

"Should I invite Gabs?" I ask, holding up my phone.

We always do movie marathons together.

It's either the three of us or no marathon.

Gracie stops talking and bites her lip, looking hesitant and a little scared.

"Just us?" she says nervously, that begging look back in her eyes.

I guess she's not ready to tell Gabs, either.

"Okay," I say, putting my phone in my back pocket. "Just us."

---------

This whole situation with Gracie is eating me up inside.

I have no idea if I'm doing the right thing by giving her space and not forcing her to tell me, or if I'm making one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

I'm sitting cross-legged on my bed, staring at the black screen of my TV, which isn't on.

My stomach is churning and I have this gut feeling that something is wrong, that I'm doing the wrong thing, but do I trust that, or do I trust Gracie when she says that she can work through it by herself?

A knock causes me to jump.

"Yes?" I call out towards my door.

When I don't hear an answer, I groan under my breath and crawl out of bed.

"Yes?" I say as I fling open my door, only to see that there's nobody there.

I look around, confused, and then I hear another knock.

It's not coming from my door, obviously, and I spin around when another knock sounds.

What the fuck is going on here?

I stand still and wait for another knock.

And then I completely freak when a muffled voice sounds from my balcony doors.

"Open your fucking door already. It's hot out here."

I jump and shriek.

There's a psychopath on my balcony.

Do I call the cops or push them off?

I timidly walk to my balcony doors and cautiously move aside one of my curtains to peek out.

He's leaning against my railing, looking without a care in the world, and his eyes snap to mine once I fully pull both curtains to the side.

"Hey, Cassie," he says with a stupid smirk on his stupid face, his stupid voice muffled by the window. "How's your day going so far?"

I scowl at him. "You motherfucking asshole," I growl while I throw my doors open. "You don't just casually climb onto your new neighbor's balcony without stating your name. How much of a fucking dumbass are you? I was ready to push you off the fucking platform."

He's still smirking at me.

"And how the fuck did you even get up here? Who are you, Spiderman?"

No, wait, he can't be Spiderman.

Tom Holland is and forever will be Spiderman.

"I take that back, you're just a fucking psycho that doesn't know the meaning of proper social etiquette."

"Can you move out the way, Cassie?"

"What?" I say, flustered by his words. "Why?"

"So I can come in before I melt to death."

It is really hot, I'll give it to him. It's the beginning of August, but it's been in the low nineties. It's not unusual in Florida––in the summer it's a lot hotter––but it's still pretty hot.

"I mean, I wouldn't exactly have a problem with that," I mutter under my breath, even as I step to the side to let him in, holding one of my doors open.

"Heard that, Cassie," he says as he walks past me and into my room.

"And who said you weren't supposed to?" I retort.

"And, besides," he continues, as if I'd never spoken. "I'm obviously the only bright spot in your life. What would you do without me?"

I roll my eyes at him. "Jackass."

"You love me."

"I really don't."

He shrugs before he looks around.

And that's when it hits me:

He's in my room.

"Wait, no, what the fuck?" I move towards him and cover his eyes. "Stop looking. What are you doing in here?"

He laughs and backs away from me, dodging my attempts to hinder his eyesight. "What are you doing, Cassie?"

"Avert your eyes, mortal," I say, continuing my attempts the cover his eyes and resist the urge to push him out the open doors and off the balcony.

"You're so weird."

He turns around to look at the wall that had my balcony doors on it, which coincidentally has all of my posters of males on them.

I panic.

He is not looking at those.

"Wow, Cassie," he muses. "All of the males in the Avengers? Really?"

"They're all my babies," I say defensively before I catch myself.

What am I doing? He shouldn't even be looking at those.

"I thought you were more of a Liam kind of girl, but apparently all of your fantasies feature Chris." He says this while gesturing to the section of the wall devoted to Chris.

I love Chris Hemsworth more than Liam. Sue me.

I growl at him and jump on his back.

Now, I know I've never mentioned this before, but I'm not a short girl.

I'm literally 5'9".

My mom is on the short side, and my dad is like 6'3, so it's pretty obvious what side of the family I get my height from.

Aaron is only a couple of inches taller than me, putting him at just above 6 feet.

Because of this relative closeness in height, or maybe it's my weight, Aaron stumbles and starts to fall.

He somehow manages to turn around in my arms and he lands on the floor on his back with a thud and I land on top of him.

"You're heavier than I expected you to be."

I hit his chest, hard, and he lets out a grunt.

"Damn, woman. What are you eating?"

I glare at him and he smiles cheekily.

"You're such an asshole."

"You know it."

"Why couldn't you just stop looking? Like, you're so fucking annoying and I can't stand it. You..."

I trail off when I notice that he's staring at me.

"What?" I say with my eyebrows furrowed.

He softly shakes his head. "Nothing."

I stare into his green eyes, focusing on the gold swirling around in his irises.

And his gaze flits down to my lips and he lifts his head up the tiniest bit, my heart leaps like a frog, settling into my throat.

Is he––?

No.

He can't be.

Right?

"Cass?"

Our eyes snap back to each other's, apparently mine had gone down to look at his lips, and widen simultaneously.

"Are you awa––"

I jump off of Aaron as my bedroom door opens.

"Mom!" I say, breathless. "Hey."

Her eyes move between me and Aaron, who has stood up and is dusting himself off.

He better not be dusting himself off.

I cleaned this room yesterday, and I'll be damned if there's already dust on my floor.

"Sweetie?" she asks.

"Yes, mom?"

"Why is the neighbors' son in your room?"

"Um..." I say, trying to think of a way to explain why he's in my room. Hell, I don't even think I know. "Well... you see..."

She holds her hand up. "Never mind. I'm not sure I want to know."

She turns to walk away before facing us once again. "For your benefit, or maybe his, I won't mention... this to your father."

She walks out of my room and leaves the door open.

Aaron and I turn to each other at the same time.

"I like her," he muses. "She's nice."

I squeeze my eyes shut. "I hate you."

---------

Thoughts on the chapter? What posters do you have on your wall(s)? If you don't have any, what's your favorite TV show or movie, and who's your favorite actor in that TV show or movie?

--Rose