06 | Housewarming
?? ?????? ??
"This better be worth it," Cole huffs behind me, still gripping the railings of the stairs.
I glance back to see him dramatically pushing himself up the last step, very unhappy about everyone else not trusting the sketchy elevator.
Kat follows close behind, juggling a large pack of beers and a bottle of something she insisted on picking up from the liquor store on the way.
Her curls are out and spring a little wilder beside her face.
"Oh, it is," Riley grins, practically skipping up to the door. It seems as if those stairs don't affect her, or if they do she's so blinded by her own excitement to care.
I watch as her fist hits the wood, knocking a few times in quick succession. My eyes fall over that gold lettering, just like they did almost a week ago. 6B.
It somehow already feels like a lifetime ago, with work almost everyday and helping mom around the house I'm almost too tired to keep track of time.
There is a feeling though, whatever nerves I had before those photos is back, humming in my stomach.
It was fine in the end, I didn't hate it.
But it's like my mind hasn't processed that, associating this place with that stupid, childish fear.
"You reckon he has a punching bag?" Alex hums sarcastically beside me, tipping from foot to foot, "To practice beating the shit out of all his enemies?"
I haven't told anyone other than Riley I've been here before, there didn't feel like a reason to.
A smile graces my face as I glance at him, his dark hair clouding his head, "Or a dartboard with our faces stuck to it?"
Just then the door swings open, Nolan standing there extremely unamused. His hair is messy, like he's had a nap, with curls dipping out in different directions and there's a flash of tiredness through his hazel eyes.
"Did you forget we were coming?" Riley laughs, almost shoving past him in the doorway.
He just sighs, saying nothing and moving away so the rest of us can trail in like a line of lost puppies. It's just like before, exposed brick and that large window looking out over the town. It's 7pm this time though, so it's a sort of dark, blue-ish abyss instead.
As I pass him Nolan mumbles beside me, almost smiling, "Hi, Birdie."
His voice. It's deeper, slow and breathier.
It reverberates through me a little, catching me off guard and I snap my eyes to his.
He was definitely asleep, I've only ever heard guys sound like that after waking up in their beds.
I'm usually a fan of that sleep-filled voice but associating it with Nolan makes my brain short circuit a little. It's weird.
"Fuck, dude!" Cole mutters, already over by the couch, "This place is nice... maybe even worth all those fuckass stairs."
"Yeah, sorry about that," Nolan mutters back, eyes now away from mine, "They're supposed to be replacing the elevator soon, I think."
"Where can I plug this in?" Kat exclaims suddenly, magically pulling out a portable speaker.
Nolan visibly winces, annoyance crossing his face. Riley hadn't mentioned that this was more of her housewarming party than his but we'd all assumed. That's why we brought the drinks andthe music whilst Nolan looks half-awake.
I watch as Riley ushers Kat off to a wall to set up the speaker whilst Cole and Alex fall into some conversation beside the sprawling window, pointing out at the few lights in the darkness.
Cole was pre-drinking in the car and now seems to be clutching another beer, fists a little too tight around the metal.
It's getting awkward, us noticing his dependency on alcohol and only teetering on the edge of saying something.
Staging an intervention would probably be the solution but we're worried he'll get angry, distance himself.
The one thing he does have is friends, people who care about him - cutting him off from that could make him worse.
I only realise I'm zoning out when I'm brought back to earth by the very loud boom of music from the speaker, followed by Kat squealing. It's a familiar song, generic pop music but something I know enough words to.
"Fuck this," Nolan mutters under his breath beside me before reaching over to the kitchen cabinet and grabbing himself a shot glass.
He pours himself one and I watch, moving a little so I'm perched opposite him behind the counter.
"You want one, Birdie?" He asks, glancing up to me.
I nod without much hesitation. I really need a drink right now.
By the time he's pushing the little glass into my hands Riley and Kat are calling for me to join their dancing which mainly consists of jumping up and down like toddlers.
I catch their smiles and feel one fall over my own face.
In not too long the whirring in my head will stop, I'll have a few hours of fun with my friends.
I don't wait for Nolan, taking the shot as quickly as possible before hitting it back down into the counter. I don't even wait for his stupid expression or give him time to say anything, I just skip over and join in with the out-of-tune singing.
A while later that lightheadedness has consumed me, placing me somewhere between extremely tipsy and actually drunk. I can never really tell the difference.
I'm slumped on the end of the couch, head melting into the pillows as Riley practically falls on top of me, giggling like a schoolgirl.
Kat's scrunched in a ball on the rug, back leaning against the couch as she empties the last of a beer into her mouth and Alex is opposite me, partially spaced out.
He's a quiet drunk, falling off the earth into his own head.
Nolan is nowhere to be seen.
"We should play a game," Riley mumbles, shoving her hand into a big bag of popcorn she acquired at some point in the night.
I look down at where she's now settled with her head on my lap. "Like what?"
"Ssspin the bottle," Cole's slurred voice suggests. I'd almost forgotten he was here, he stopped trying to stumble around a while ago and instead has been on the floor staring at the ceiling.
Pretty much everyone frowns at that and Riley chucks a few pieces of popcorn at his head.
"No committing friend-cest idiot," She garbles before flashing her eyes to Alex, "As much as some of us want to."
He only offers her a weak, sarcastic smile and stupidly, I glance at him too. The alcohol is protecting me from feeling much at all and I throw him a cheesy smile, completely ignoring what Riley just suggested.
"Truth or dare?" Kat says, leaning her head back so it falls close to my leg.
"Perfect," Riley hums, "Cole, truth or dare?"
"Dare."
"No, truth. You can barely move right now," Riley snaps back, narrowing her eyes, "What's the most illegal thing you've ever done?"
He laughs, a bit harder than he should in his drunken haze, "Probably have sex in a drive-through."
Of course. Men.
"You're gross," She grumbles back, throwing some more popcorn at him.
"I have a truth, for everybodyyy," Cole continues, pushing himself up so he's sitting upright, a glazed over look in his brown eyes.
"That's not how the game works," Riley mutters, but it falls on deaf ears.
"If you had to fuck someone here, just once, but continue to see them everyday, like, forever, so it would be superrr awkward and shit, who would it be?"
No one speaks for a moment, the question falling heavy into the air.
It's a typical truth-or-dare question, but seems odd in this moment.
We've all played this stupid game drunk but not really just amongst ourselves, especially since those who went to college came home.
Like Riley said, friend-cest isn't really on the agenda.
Cole's finger points to Kat slowly, his face falling into a sloppy grin, "You."
"I'd rather jump off a bridge into a line of oncoming traffic," She fires back, only half-joking. It's harsh but Kat's often a very dramatic person, an honest one too.
"You know you'd love it," Cole murmurs, winking at her.
"I'm abstaining," Riley interrupts, lifting her head up from my lap, "My options are you and Alex, which, just... no. Kat and Ava I love you, but having to look you in the eye after smashing would be extremely painful."
"I second that," Kat mutters before a wave of thought passes over her face, "Well, actually there is one exception, for me anyway. I guess that'd be my only option."
I frown, glancing at her, and I feel everyone else do the same. An exception?
She sighs, "If you're going to make me say it... your brother."
I pause. Nolan. I'd forgotten he was even here, that we were all sat in his apartment at a housewarming party he has made no effort to attend.
He's probably shut himself away in his room, jerking off to his photos or whatever it is he does.
Not jerking off. No, no, no. Stupid drunk brain.
I'm not thinking about him jerking off.
"Oh my god, I think I'm going to be sick," Riley gushes, wincing.
"Come on, I wouldn't be wrong to say he's a good looking guy," She makes another passing glance across the room, "And we have very limited options in this scenario."
"I will hurl right now if you keep talking."
"You're quiet, what do you think," Kat mumbles towards me, "You'd rather fuck her brother, than these two idiots, right?"
I'm frozen, words shooting through my head. Would I? I don't know. I don't think so. The words fuck and Nolan shouldn't be associated. I don't want that thought floating around in my head. I don't want to think about him at all.
"We know who'd rather fuck Ava," Cole snickers, eyes meeting Alex. I'd stopped paying attention to Alex, aware now of his spaced out expression and clenched jaw.
He's not mad, but clearly a little irritated, beginning to get up off the couch.
"Oh come onnn!" Cole groans, attempting to stand up but sort of wobbling backwards, "It's just a game, Alex. It's not like y-you ever do anything about liking her anyways."
Oh god.
Riley flashes me a concerned look and I can feel my cheeks flush a little.
It's too far, too on the nose. Whatever unspoken thing still lingers in Alex is never brought up like this, but Cole is so stupidly drunk he's not thinking at all.
It's not nice to put him in such an uncomfortable position.
"I need to get some fresh air," Alex mutters, as if the entire situation has completely sobered him up. He's already reaching for his jacket, face pulled into a straight line.
"Me too," Riley huffs before pushing herself off the couch too, sliding her feet back into her shoes.
"Me three," Kat adds, sighing heavily.
The air is a little stiff, awkwardness floating around and making everyone feel a little less drunk and a lot more aware.
It's weird, the tension. My own mind is still hazy, watching everyone move like they're in some sort of tv show and not really here in front of me.
My thoughts are still loud, echoing in my ears.
The three of them slip out the front door in silence, seemingly forgetting about those stairs they'll have to force their way back up.
As soon as I'm left alone I glance back to see Cole has somehow clambered his way onto the sofa and is already asleep in a ball.
His chest rises gently, buzzed hair pushed into a pile of cushions.
I feel bad for him, really fucking bad.
His parents were always the picture-perfect, poster couple, the divorce is clearly shattering him.
I grab a blanket, covering him up gently. We need to say something. If he hates us forever then so be it, but he needs to know that he can at least talk to us about this shit. At least not live this version of life he's currently falling into.
My eyes fall back to the room, now so quiet without the people and the music falling abruptly off autoplay. Too quiet.It lets my mind fall back to one thing.
Nolan.
Where is he? I didn't even notice him disappear, too preoccupied with anything but him.
But now in this empty space his lack of presence is eating at me.
I'm curious, more intrigued than I'd usually be if I were sober.
Small, hazy, memories of him glancing at me from behind that camera flash back, the way his teeth bit into his tongue in concentration.
When he smiled it was with that same strange softness he had back then, like he was looking at me in a different light.
Like in front of the camera everything else ceased to exist. Maybe that's why I fell into the numbed rhythm of the photos, because for a moment whatever part of Nolan caresseems to radiate out of him.
It's weird and intense and swirls the thoughts in my head.
I shouldn't care about him right now, shouldn't think about him, but my legs are drifting across the wooden floor before I can reign myself in. Wondering where he is has turned into casually looking for him.
My feet pause at the entrance of his room and I place a hand on the doorframe to steady myself.
It's half-open, displaying the hazy room lit up with only a lamp and the glare of a laptop screen.
Nolan sits, perched on the end of his bed, one hand clicking through something on the screen whilst the other takes a greedy swing of liquid, right from the bottle.
He hasn't noticed me, my eyes glued to him for a moment.
"Are you just drinking yourself to death in here?" I speak, mouth moving without much thought.
He glances up at me, reaction a little slowed. His hair is still messy, eyes much more glazed over. He's drunk. But being drunk doesn't seem to crash into him as heavily as everyone else. Fucking heavyweight.
"Just like the good old days," He shoots back, smiling.
"I thought you would've quit," I frown, meeting his eyes, "You know, being a good person now and all that."
He shrugs, "I did for a bit. Didn't suit me."
My brain rings with what he said at the market.
Calling me Ava apparently doesn't suit him either.
"So you're still a borderline alcoholic, then?"
He frowns, taking in my appearance from the doorway. There's visible thought passing through his eyes, his lips, his brows. When he speaks, his words aren't exactly slurred but tinged with that drunk murmur.
"You ask a lot of questions, don't you?"
This time I shrug, walking a little into the room. There's still that alcohol-fuelled confidence thrumming through my blood, making me speak before the thoughts are even properly formed. It's making me pace gently across the floor, too, apparently.
"You should invest in some decor."
An eyebrow raises, "Is that right?"
His room is fine. Grey bedsheets, dark brown wardrobe and dresser, some big abstract piece of art above his bed that looks like a boring old scribble to me.
A few plants line the window sill, some green and breathing, the others very much dying.
Even if the place looks like a showroom I appreciate the splash of green.
"It makes it seem like you're hiding something," I continue, drifting my eyes down to the bedside table I'm now standing beside. There's a photography book and a charger wire but that's it, the bareness making me frown.
He snorts at that, twisting his body to look back at me, "I'm an open book, Birdie."
Yeah, right.
A murmured reply falls from my mouth, no words, just a noise that sums up my disbelief at his unserious statement.
"I'm serious," He drawls, voice dripping with something close to sarcasm, "I have no secrets."
"So when I pull this open I won't find a severed head?" I joke, curling my fingers over the handle.
I don't give him any time to reply and pull open the drawer a little dramatically, eyes falling over its contents lazily. I'm curious more than anything -what does Nolan Winters keep in his bedside drawer?
As soon as I do, though, I immediately regret it. Heat begins to flame under my cheeks, whatever half-smile that had formed on my cheeks falling away immediately. I blink, slowly, brain whirring.
I'm glaring at a pile of condoms.
I slam it shut on instinct, quickly, loudly.
God, I'm such a fucking idiot. I can't go around poking in other people's stuff. Now I have and I've made it fucking weird. It's awkward, my mind has already established that. The air stills, my fingers humming as I stand silently, back still turned away from Nolan.
He laughs, a low, breathy laugh that ripples through me, "Found what I was hiding?"
Despite my brain malfunctioning I turn, meeting his amused eyes. He's so goddam smug, revelling in the fact I've got all embarrassed over something as fucking stupid as condoms. I can feel my cheeks burning hot, but a need to push back on his cocky laughing pulses through me.
"There was definitely something there, but they were too small to make out," I mumble, throwing him a tight smile.
"Right," He says, another chuckle slipping through, "Which is exactly why you're blushing right now?"
I stare at him for a moment, words bubbling in my throat.
"Fuck you," Is all I manage to come up with, voice louder than it had seemed in my head.
I'm done with his stupid bullshit. I shouldn't have let myself be guided by curiosity, Nolan isn't worth it, he never is. I begin to make my way back to the door, pushing a strand of blonde back behind my ear.
Surprisingly his voice calls out, stopping me, "Wait, I want to show you something."
I say nothing, lips falling flat as I turn to look at him again. His hand falls and pats the spot next to him on the edge of the bed, gesturing for me to join him.
"It'll only be a second, I promise," He speaks again.
For some reason, my hesitance doesn't last long.
Maybe it's the more serious switch in his voice, like he's finally stopped laughing at me with that smug attitude, or perhaps part of me wants to know what's so urgent he has to call me over.
I reckon it's the third option, my legs are tired and I need to sit down.
As I sit I sink a little into the mattress, my thighs not touching but very close to Nolan's.
There's a bubble of warmth between us, that stillness that settles between two people.
I glance over his arm, the veins that trickle down it as he a clicks a few more buttons on the screen.
His fingers are long, knuckles not scarred but a little rugged as if he's been in a fair few fights.
When I glance up, away from the keys, I'm greeted with something else.
Those photos of me.
They're real and too big on the screen. The one he's currently landed on shows me with a straight face, eyes angled at the camera and hair up with a few stands falling out beside my cheeks.
It's different than the candid ones I avoid so much, they're so professional.
I don't exactly like it but I don't hate them, it's just..
. weird. It'slike I'm staring at an alternate version of myself.
"Good, right?" Nolan mutters, voice louder beside me.
I frown, not really saying anything. I don't know what to say.
His finger clicks again, the next photo similar to the last, only my eyes are a little off centre this time.
He does it again, and again, and again.
Ones of me smiling, ones with my hair down, weirdly candid ones he took when I wasn't even paying attention.
My brain so desperately wants to pick out every imperfection like I usually do, but for some reason I can't seem to fall into that self-deprecating trap.
"This is my favourite."
Nolan's voice is quieter, the words coming out in an exhale I feel the brush of beside my ear. His breath is heavy with the scent of alcohol. It smells exactly like he used to, it clung to him in the hallways of that house.
His finger reaches out and points to his supposed favourite. I'm half-smiling, looking away a bit with blonde waves down beside my face. It's in black and white, my features contrasting in the light. He took it when I wasn't looking, between shots. I still can't find anything to say.
"What?" He murmurs, "You don't like them?"
Do I like them?
"They're... fine."
"Everything is just fine, isn't Birdie?" He chuckles lightly, "Nothing can be good, can it?"
I bite the inside of my cheek, indecisiveness across my tongue. It is fine. I don't know if I like looking at myself like this. I don't even know if I see myself in these photos.
"What do you want me to say?" I say, finally, voice cracked in the silence, "That they're the best photos ever taken? That I look beautiful?"
He drags his eyes away from the screen, face turning until they're locked on me. In the muted light they've lost the green flecks, a more chocolate brown to match his head of messy hair.
"You do," He asserts, "Look beautiful."
I blink, his words melting into my mind.
"I think anyone with eyes can see that," He adds, trying to read my blank expression.
He's being nice to me.God, why is he being nice to me?
He's drunk. He's an idiot. I'm drunk.
The worst part is I can feel myself soften at his remark.
It feels nice to have someone say that to you, even if it's in circumstances where the entire conversation will be forgotten tomorrow.
There's a flicker of light over his face and for a small split-second I see whatever not terrible part of him is hidden away.
I'm too far away from my rational thinking to realise who's saying this to me.
"Your sister told you not to hit on me, remember?" I scramble out, jokey, moving my gaze back to the screen.
His face falls into a sloppy smile, "I'm just telling you the truth, Birdie."
"You're drunk."
"So are you," He retaliates, head tilted to the side like a puppy.
All of a sudden there's a creak at the doorway. Our words stop and I glance up towards the interruption. Alex.
"The girls are calling an Uber," He says after a second of hesitation, "They refuse to do the stairs again so I'm just gonna grab their stuff."
I nod in reply, watching the way his eyes dart between us.
"Do you mind, uh, dealing with Cole? He's out coldwhen he falls asleep like that."
"Yeah, sure," I mumble, finally standing up.
Alex gives me an appreciative look before moving away, back into the main room. I begin to follow him, my feet finding their footing. I can feel Nolan's lingering presence, my arms littered with gentle goosebumps with the loss of his warmth beside me.
Part of me wants to glance back, I'm not even sure why. It's not like I have anything else left to say to him. I don't, striding back to the couch and making an attempt to wake Cole.
By the time we've gathered everyone's belongings Alex says a quick goodbye whilst I help a very tired Cole down the stairs. The air outside is much colder than when we arrived, goosebumps on my bare arms poking out even more.
My mind is still hazy, swirling with the photos, Nolan's glassy eyes and husky scent. You do lookbeautiful.
In the Uber I'm not even paying attention to whatever giggling fit Riley and Kat have descended into, my eyes watching the drifting lights of traffic. I barely even notice when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out reluctantly.
It's a message from Nolan. No text, just one attachment.
That black and white photo, his favourite.
?? ??