보고싶다

***

"I knew you liked her, Tom, but holy shit, you got Colby fucking Matthews to kiss you without threatening her first?" Wyatt is lying on the floor of my room, repeatedly tossing a Nerf football into the air. I glare down from my bed at him. Logan, Garret, and Wyatt have decided to surprise me this afternoon with a much unwanted visit consisting of Cole-related interrogations and so far, only two noogies - one hell of an accomplishment.

"Since when have I ever tried slapping a woman into kissing me?" I ask, appalled. Jeez, what do they think I practice with porn stars? And no that was not meant to be offensive.

"Help me out here, guys," Wyatt says but Logan and Garret ignore him as they text on their phones rapidly. Since track started, they've been in constant motion, and it's absolutely refreshing. Wyatt sighs and lets the football land on his face when he refuses to catch it, as a sort of sign that he's struggling with his existence. I don't see why he wouldn't to be honest.

"DAMN IT HARLEY." Logan shouts at his phone, which is blowing up endlessly and I perk up, that tiny ever present flame of rage flaring up inside me for a second when I hear her name. I still haven't forgiven her for the whole Colby thing, why should I? What she did was out of line and frankly, a bitch move.

"What, she texting you too?" Garret says with an annoyed expression. Logan's face scrunches up and he nods.

"What's the deal with Harley?" I ask, trying not to sound too curious, even though there's a little part inside me that hopes she's moving or was run over by a semi. Wyatt groans from the ground, trying to gain attention and I shush him.

"Be quiet Wyatt, no one wants to hear your Logan imitation." I say and Logan chucks a pillow at me while Wyatt cackles childishly. I grin. "At least he thinks I'm funny." I tell Logan and he rolls his eyes.

"Shut up, Mac, you bitch ass." He says gruffly. I wave a finger at him.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Wyatt asks in mock awe.

"You kiss your mother?" Logan shoots back, not once looking up from his phone.

"Hey, good practice," Wyatt says unaffected. I give them a grossed out look and I see Garret look up from his phone looking disturbed.

"No wonder you're single," Garret says and Wyatt glares at him. I scoff at them though I'm somewhat amused. Leave it to these pricks to make anybody feel like an idiot. They don't disappoint.

"Anyways, Tom," Wyatt says as he is obviously done with the subject of kissing mothers. "What's the deal with you and Colby?" Garret and Logan seem to not be paying attention, but I can tell they're listening. They're too frequently updated on the whole thing, they wouldn't pass up an opportunity for more information. I shrug

"I don't know yet," I tell him and Wyatt groans melodramatically. With that talent, he could play a lead role in Hamlet. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and instead ignore him completely. "I'm thinking about asking her out."

"Do it," Logan says absentmindedly. "At the rate you're going, you'll hit third base by May." I scrunch my nose. Why can't we - guys - have a reputation that doesn't involve having sex with girls before marrying them? It's beyond me.

"Come on dude," I complain. Logan shrugs, knowing how much I don't like it when they talk about that stuff.

"It's not as bad as you think it is, really," He tries to explain but I ignore him.

"I'll take your word for it," I say sarcastically. Garret looks up at me with a puzzled expression and asks,

"So if you don't want her for hot sex, what do you want her for? Don't mind me being a little bit confused about this, Tom."

I sigh. God help me. But then she comes to my mind and she causes my irritation to disappear and makes me smirk to myself.

Kolbi Ellijabeseu Maetyuseu. Nae gajang chinhan chingu. Nae sesang...

"Not sure," I answer, interrupting my own thoughts. "There a weird connection between us, I don't know how to explain it -"

"Destiny?

"Fate?"

"Sexual attraction?"

"Not quite," I say with an annoyed look at Logan who snorts at his childish response.

"All right come on guys," Wyatt says. "Lets take this seriously for a second."

"It's fine, I probably won't ask her for a while." I say as I get up from my bed.

"Hey where are you going?" Wyatt asks once I've stepped over his head, making my way to the door. Logan and Garret look up from their phones at me as I start pulling on my sweater for the light rain outside.

"There's a party tonight at Bryson's," I say. "Don't tell me you want to miss out."

The boys glance at each other abruptly and an instant later they're scrambling around trying to get everything so we can leave. I grin slyly at them and walk out into the hall, turning to the right and coming out into the foyer. Here I grab my keys and watch the guys come running like madmen down the hallway, chuckling at them.

"Did you honestly not know about this before now?" I ask as we head out the door, turning around and locking it before making my way to my truck. Garret scoffs,

"No, since when do we ever care about Bryson's parties?" He says with a snort.

I shrug. "Fair point," I say. "Good way to prove that yours are way better."

"Damn right," He answers. I unlock the truck and hop into the driver seat, jamming my keys into the ignition to start it up. Logan, Garret, and Wyatt all pile in, Logan in the front and Garret and Wyatt in the back, and I peel out of our driveway.

A song is playing through the speakers, a rock song that makes me think of Colby.

"Say what you mean, tell me I'm right and let the sun rain down on me,
Give me a sign I wanna believe,
Woah, Mona Lisa, you're guaranteed to run this town,
Woah, Mona Lisa I dare to see you frown..."

"Ah jeez," Logan complains, putting his hands over his ears. "What kind of shit is this?"

I look across to him and roll my eyes. "Not my problem," I say as I pull out onto the freeway. "Cole likes to choose the music, and I just happen to enjoy it."

"Well you both must be out of your minds," Logan says. I chuckle to myself.

"We like to think that."

***

By the time we reach Bryson's, it's about eight thirty and the light rain has let up, making it so I don't have to take in my sweater. I park my truck a few houses down and we hop out, heading towards the loud music bumping from up the road.

I've always liked parties, but I don't like to consider myself a partier. I drink but not heavily. I hang out but not too long. Some people like taking it to extremes, getting overly drunk and overly comfortable with people. Not me. I've been drunk once as a freshman, and I absolutely hate taking advantage of people. I guess you could say I'm a more disciplined person when it comes to parties.

In Bryson's front yard leading up to the tall colonial that holds the party, are about ten to fifteen people, most with red plastic cups in their hands, one or two laying on the grass, obviously drunk, and others flirting or getting intimate. From the house you can hear the music bumping, filling the air with a low and ever-present buzz. The shouting inside can be heard out to the road and the windows are filled with a purplish-orange light, giving off a tempting glow.

The guys and I make our way up to the house and are immediately met by rounds of cheers and hollers when we enter.

"I'll be dammed!" Bryson Landa says, approaching us with an arm wrapped around the slim waist of his girlfriend, Tessa Keys. I smile at him and he holds his hand out for a fist bump of which I return. "I thought you said my parties were lame, did you finally come around?" He chortles and I shrug modestly.

"Figured we'd show up to make it less of a downer," Wyatt jokes. Everyone around us laughs and people clap me on the back in a fan-like gesture. Bryson hoots and he throws an arm around my shoulders, leading me further into the house. I'm handed a plastic cup as we head out into the backyard, past a bunch of people drinking, laughing, and dancing in tight groups. I've always liked parties, but not ones where you're in such close proximity of others where it feels as if you're inhaling other people's breath. In a house like Wyatt's or Logan's or Garret's, this problem doesn't occur. But it does in Bryson's.

Outside there is another set of people, but not as many as there are in the house. People crowd around on the patio playing beer pong and others stand on the grass talking or dancing and one or two kegs sit on the patio next to a fire pit. But past the lights of the fire and the house, I can still see the stars.

Bryson is talking to me, something about senior year coming to a close, but I'm not listening. I take little sips of my beer, watching my surroundings. Something seems to beckon me to leave, like horizontal gravity and I can't shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. I look around, feeling as if I should come across the problem with my eyes but I come up with nothing. However, as I begin to make conversation with a couple of my baseball teammates, something inside me keeps saying that I should be alert. So I am.

I'm just about to go get another beer when something in my chest shifts and I look past Garret's shoulder back inside the house. And out the back door emerges Cole.

My eyes never leave her as she makes her way reluctantly across the patio with Hayden. I've never seen her in a dress before, granted, Hayden probably forced her into wearing it. It's a mint green and kind of gray, contrasting her islander skin tone perfectly. Her blonde-brown hair looks straighter than normal and more sheer. She walks behind Hayden uncomfortably, looking around herself as if waiting for someone to shout out something awful. She disappears from my line of view as quickly as she came, not once did I catch her eye.

I set my cup down on one of the patio tables and excuse myself from the conversation, heading the way I saw Colby vanish. It's not long before I find her alone, almost glued to the outside wall of the house, fondling with a bracelet on her hand.

"Hey Cole," I say, coming up from behind her and causing her to jump.

"Oh, hi Mac," she says once she's realized who I am. I smile at her, watching the twinkling in her brown eyes that happens whenever she sees me.

"Saw you come in with Hayden, did you lose her?" I say and I feel my throat beginning to close up. Damn it.

"Yeah," Colby says. "God I hate it when she drags me to these things." She flicks a strand of hair out of her eyes. I place a hand beside her head - cliché I know - leaning up against the wall.

"Hey, it's all good," I tell her. "You can stick with me for a while until we find her." Colby heaves a sigh of relief.

"Thank God," she says. "Cause I absolutely hate parties."

"What?" I say with a light laugh. "Come on, they're not that bad. They're actually kind of fun if you let yourself get into them." Colby shakes her head.

"That's only if you drink or decide to grind on random guys inside. No thank you." She says with a fake gag. I smile at her. God, how can she be so wonderful?

"Come on then," I say, taking her hand gently. "We can go up to Bryson's room to watch a movie." Colby looks at me unsurely, like she thinks I'm going to try something. I just chuckle,

"Don't worry, Little Miss," I say. "I'm not like that." She smiles gratefully and allows me to pull her alongside me back into the house.

Her hand is delicate in mine and I carry it carefully, feeling as if it's made of china. Her skin is soft against my rough calluses and it causes me to feel protective, but I try hard not to show it. Warm bodies close in around us as we move like slugs through the crowd of teenagers, the smell of alcohol wreaking havoc upon my sinuses. I close my hand around Colby's firmly so I can't lose her and I feel her fingertips return the gesture. Her fingers are long and slim, book fingers my mom would call them, made for holding a pen or turning a page.

We finally reach the staircase leading up to the bedrooms and I usher Colby up, watching her green dress swing around her knees as she climbs the stairs. I take a last glance behind me where my classmates dance and drink, still feeling that odd, cold feeling that something isn't right. With a reluctant sigh, I push the thought away and follow Colby.

Upstairs most of the bedroom doors are closed, and I don't want to picture what might be happening behind most of them. A few people sit on the carpet, leaned up against the walls and staring into space blissfully. Luckily, Bryson's room is unoccupied except for someone puking in the bathroom. Colby gives me a grossed out look as we enter.

"He'll be out in a second," I assure her and she gives me a look.

We walk into the room and I check the bed for anything that shouldn't be there, coming up with one or two empty plastic cups and a condom wrapper. I roll my eyes at that one. Jesus, why can't people at least try to be in control of themselves? It'd save others a lot of time and innocence. With a disgusted look, I dump the trash into the wastebasket in the bathroom, seeing the puking guy start to clean up. I give him an annoyed look and walk out.

Back in the room, Colby has already sat upon the bed, her legs crossed and her face down to look at her phone. I wait for the drunk guy to stumble out the door and shut and lock it behind him, then sitting down in front of the TV cabinet after I do so.

"What'll it be, Little Miss?" I ask. "They've got the Merlin box set, Doctor Who, We're The Millers -"

"Do they have Sherlock?" Colby asks. I skim the DVDs, searching.

"The one with Robert Downey Jr.?" I ask.

"Ew no," She answers. "Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman."

"Martin Freeman and what Cabbagepatch?" I ask. Colby sighs.

"Doctor Strange," She says, obviously disappointed. "The man who plays Doctor Strange is Benedict Cumberbatch."

I snap my fingers. Right. "Oh yeah I know him!" I say and it's not a moment later I find the box set. Four DVD cases. "You're kidding me." I tell her, pulling out the set.

"What?"

"Only four seasons?" I ask unbelievingly.

"Yes. And if it makes you feel any worse, there's only three episodes a season." Cole says as I plop myself on the bed next to her.

"What the hell kind of a show is this?"

"The episodes are an hour and a half long and it is one of the best shows you will ever watch."

"Besides Shadowhunters?" I ask.

"I'll let you decide that for yourself." She answers, shoving me off the bed. I groan teasingly, turning on the TV and I pop in the disk, letting the sound travel through Bryson's rich kid sound system. Immediately the first episode begins playing, an orchestral theme music accompanying an odd looking but aesthetic intro. I hop back onto the bed, leaning up against the pillows and the headboard next to Colby.

I always am fascinated by her. The way she gets so invested in fiction makes me want to watch her every second I get the chance to. The way her brown eyes sparkle with so many emotions and unsaid thoughts makes me wonder what I could be missing out on. Her body language changes, her shoulders slumping and her hands playing wildly with the hem of her dress as the show progresses. On occasion she will hit the bed angrily, shouting things at the characters on screen, things like hints on who the killer is and why. I hold back smirks throughout the whole thing, somehow managing to be successful, considering that it seems like that's the only thing I can do when I'm next to her.

By the time we are almost finished with the first season though, I find myself unintentionally mimicking her. Why, you ask? Well because I without a doubt underestimated the perfection of this show. The writing is unlike any other show I've seen, and yes I've watched Doctor Who. Moffat is an evil, evil human, but you have to admire him for rewriting something as brilliant and mind blowing as Sherlock Holmes. Because for one, that takes balls to rewrite a classic to fit in modern day settings and issues yet. And two, it's completely out of the blue, something that keeps you on your toes, and something that makes you feel more emotions and connections than a lot of other shows. Not all, but a lot.

I look over at Colby, watching her fidget as Moriarty and Sherlock converse tensely, standing on the side of a pool. Her chin rests on her fingertips, her hands in a praying sort of position, as if she's thinking. Her brown eyes are fixated on the screen with determined focus, though she knows already what happens.

It's here I sit for the remainder of our time. With a story playing on a television above me, teeming with intellectual chaos. With a party raging below me, reeking of yeast and emitting a warlike aura. And Colby and me sitting on a bed, lost in different worlds. Hers fictional and mine sitting next to me. 

***

Author's Note

Hey guys! I am so so so so sorry for how much time it took to update :(, I hope this chapter was worth it❤️ And I'm sorry if there are any grammar errors, I didn't want to take the time to edit. #lifeskills

So recently I listened to Min Yoongi's (Suga/AGUST D from BTS) mixtape album which I didn't even know existed until yesterday and I'm now listening to it on repeat because HOLY HELL THIS IS THE BEST SHIT I'VE LISTENED TO IN A LONG TIME HOES.

If you know what I'm talking about please let me know, my friends think I'm mental for liking Korean pop and it's BS.

Don't forget to vote, comment, and share with your friends!

Much love❤️

~ Cara