Page 29 of Five Summers

By the time I'm home and my mom's about to head out for work, I'm even more caught up in my self-pity. The lounge becomes my sanctuary as I snuggle under the weighted blanket, relishing in its comforting embrace.

"Are you sure you're, okay?" my mother asks, pausing by the door, her hand on the doorknob.

“Yes Mom, for like the hundredth time. I’m just feeling a little down, that’s all.”

“Did something happen at school today?’

Yes, everything happened. I was invisible, as always. Instead, I go with, “No, nothing happened. I’ll be fine.” In order to get her out of the house, I put on a fake smile.

“Okay. If it gets any worse, just give me a ring and I’ll come straight back.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ll probably just go to bed.”

“Alright then,” she says, opening the front door. Just before she steps out, she glances back over her shoulder. “I hope you're not pretending to dodge the conversation I wanted to have today,” she says, looking for any trace of deceit. “Because intake has already started.”

Oh my god. I can’t believe she’s doing this right now.

I look away from her, my silence conveying my refusal to answer the question. Sensing my avoidance of answering her, she storms out of the house. The sound of the door slams into the silence.

Before long, a heavy knock sounds, making me wonder if my mother has forgotten her keys again.

With a frustrated huff, I remove the blanket and force myself to get up from the couch. When I get to the door, I yank it open in frustration. To my surprise, it’s Xander, with his signature bad-boy grin.

“What do you want, Xander?” I ask, turning around and leaving the front door ajar, inviting him to follow me inside. Despite the events of the day, there’s something about him that prevents me from shutting the door in his face.

“I left the guitar at Ace’s to keep it safe,” he says, closing the door.

Returning to the room, I reclaim my spot on the couch, trying to get comfortable. Xander follows and plops down at the end, making himself comfortable around my feet.

“What! You’re not watching Housewives today,” he says, glancing at the blank television screen.

“No.” I shake my head.

The images of what I saw earlier today still linger in my thoughts. I'm not in the mood for mindless small talk with him. It baffles me why he’s even here instead of being with Jade or any of those other bitches.

"What's up?" he asks, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“Nothing,” I add, irritated with myself for morphing into one of the girls who desperately seeks his attention. I hate the way he affects me. I yearn for something more than a secret friendship that he keeps hidden from the outside world. But I know who I am, and the thought of him never seeing me in a different light feels like a heavy burden on my heart.

I look up, startled when I feel his intense eyes focused on me. “Tell me what’s wrong, Princess?”

“It’s nothing!” I shrug, looking down to hide the disappointment in my eyes. I pick at the loose thread on the new couch cushion my mother bought yesterday.

“Poppy,” he says facing me, his arm comfortably draping on the back of the lounge.

The sound of my name on his tongue makes my heart skip a beat. He never calls me that. And I treasure the way it sounds, like the voice of an angel singing a holy melody.

I can’t tell him how I’m feeling. It's hard to put into words the discomfort I feel when I see all those nasty bitches around him. How it felt today when he poured his soul into singing for them.

The way he looked at me last night while he sang, I felt a connection. As the melody flowed from his lips, his words resonated within me, igniting a tingling sensation that pulsed through my veins. I thought that was a unique moment just for the both of us, but then today, he shared it with all of them. And now, I feel like a foolish idiot, realizing that Xander could never see me in the same way he sees them.

To evade his intense stare and sidestep his question, I get to my feet.

“You hungry?” I say, tossing the blanket onto the lounge.

"Hold on," he says, taking my hand in his.

The moment his fingers make contact with my skin, I feel it everywhere. I freeze, savoring the warmth and comfort of his hand before he lets go.

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