Page 24 of Wildest Dreams

Pacey rubs his hand over his stubble.

“Have you not asked her?”

“No, why would I? We're not friends, I can't just ask her.”

He sighs, sitting up before looking at me over his shoulder. “You can, you just won't because you're a pussy.”

I scoff.

“I was thinking,” he says as he sits up.

“Did it hurt?” I smirk, and he leans over me, slapping me round the head.

I swat his hand away, sitting up and pushing my hand through my tousled hair.

“Anyway, back to what I was saying,” he rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner as he pushes from the bed. “Do you think Riggs would let me help out around here? I need the distraction.”

He rocks onto the balls of his feet, hands shoved into the front pockets of his Levi's.

“I can't see why not, there is always something to do around here,” I shrug one shoulder up.

“Cool, I’ll go over to Crooked Creek,” he gives a nod then turns on his heel.

“Oh, make sure you knock,” I say a little louder as he gets to the bedroom door and opens it slightly.

“Huh? Why?”

“Trust me on this one...” a soft chuckle escapes out of me, “just knock.” Winking, I push up onto my feet and walk out the room behind him, giving him a soft squeeze on his shoulder.

He disappears downstairs and my eyes scan the landing. Stepping towards the bathroom, I lift my hand to knock, but as my knuckles brush against the oak of the door, it opens.

“Dixie?” I call out, not wanting to catch her in a compromising position again.

Nothing.

The room still has warm steam radiating from it, but I take that as my cue to step in. Closing the door and locking it, I peel yesterday’s clothes off my body and discard them into the laundry hamper. Turning the shower knob, the hot water spurts from the head and I step under it, the hot water soothing my aching muscles.

Definitely do not recommend sleeping on a wooden rocker.

-10/10.

Once out the shower and re-dressed for the day, I hear the commotion downstairs of my mom and dad bickering and Pacey trying to diffuse the ticking time bomb.

“Hey hey,” I call out as I walk in and see my mom and dad toe to toe, chest to chest.

I watch as Pacey's shoulders sag in relief.

“What's going on?” I ask, arms folded across my chest and I feel like I am the parent.

“This whole Austin thing, your dad wants to be the hero and take the wrap for Clay.”

“I mean,” Pacey runs his hand round the back of his neck, head tilting and I turn to look at him, utter confusion on my face.

Just as I am about to open my mouth, my mom walks over to Pacey and clips him around the back of his head.

“Ow,” he half laughs, half grumbles as he rubs out the pain.

“No, Dad, you're not handing yourself in for a crime you didn't commit,” I shake my head from side to side and usher my mom to sit down at the dining room table.

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