Wish I could help Davis, though, since he’s about my only friend. We’re an odd couple for sure. I’m anti-social to the point some call me a psychopath. The more people Davis has around him, the happier he is. But there are sides to Davis he doesn’t show to others. Sometimes he gets real moody like he is now. And he’s got an anger problem. Quick off the trigger. I’m way more laid back. I think it’s because I interact with people less. If you aren’t around people, there really isn’t much that makes you mad.
As for me, I guess my hidden side is that I don’t mind companionship so long as I’m spending it with people I like. Davis is one. My mom is another. I fucking hate my father’s guts and hope he dies of the virus or gets hit by a car or one of his many mistresses stakes a knife through his heart while they’re fucking. I don’t mind Chandler either. There’s something about her—nah, I shut that down right away. Chandler is Davis’ girl even if he won’t admit it.Chapter TwoChandlerI pull the second batch of cookies out of the oven, setting them on the stove to cool down for a minute. I sing along with Beyonce as I pull the icing I made earlier out of the refrigerator. I give it another taste to make sure that it’s as good as I remember.
“Perfect,” I sing song to myself. Now I only have to wait a few more minutes and I can start decorating the cookies. I turn the music up, not having to worry about the noise. No one is home. I dance around, thinking maybe I can package the cookies up for Mom and Dad and they could take them to work with them. I’m not really sure if that’s allowed or not. It won’t hurt to ask. I slide across the kitchen floor to grab my cell phone, which is currently blasting the music I’ve been dancing along to.
My eyes connect with Berkley’s outside the window, and I let out a small scream as my mind plays catch up. “You scared the crap out of me.” I wasn’t expecting him so soon. He gives me an unapologetic shrug. I turn off the music. “I want to talk to you. Go to the back door.” I nod. It’s right off the kitchen.
When I pull it open, Berkley is already there. I drop my head back and look up at him. I’m used to this. All the men in my life are ridiculously tall. I would say that it’s something in the water around here, but the fact that I’m 5’4 myself and drink the same water tells me that’s not it.
“Wasn’t trying to scare you. I left out of the back of Davis’ and then I heard this terrible noise. I thought someone was dying.”
“Are you making a joke, Berkley?” I narrow my eyes at him trying to pretend I’m insulted, but I’m sure I’m failing because I’m fighting a smile. Plus, I know my singing is the worst. I own that and I also own the fact that I’m not going to stop doing it either. He shrugs again, his face giving nothing away. It never does. It drives me bonkers. I wish I too had the ability.
“Haven't seen you in a few days.” I hope I don’t sound desperate. I stand on my tiptoes reaching my hand up. Berkley's dark green eyes that I’ve dreamed about far more than I should have widen a fraction. “I don’t bite.” I laugh, pulling his hoodie off his head. I release my hold on it, pulling my hand back. I let my fingers brush across his wide chest as I step back. Still his face gives me nothing.
“Been around,” he finally says.
“You want to come in?” I open the door wider.
“I'm not sure—” I grab him by the wrist, pulling him in. He comes willingly or I wouldn't have been able to do it. I push the door closed behind me. “Chandler.” He says my name the same way that deep voice of his had when I’d dreamt of him. I don’t stop, though. I keep pulling him.
“Sit and have a cookie.” I pull the lid off the first batch of cookies, and I know without a doubt that I’ve got him. He won’t be able to resist my cookies. Berkley and Davis destroy anything I cook. He glances around the kitchen. Now that I think about it I’m not sure he’s ever been in here before. I always go next door to Davis’ when we all hang out.
“I’m eighteen. Plus the parentals are out for the night. They’re not home most of the time these days.” I’m not really sure Mom would even care if I did have a boy over here that wasn't Davis.