Drayton's birthday !

D R A Y S • P O V

"Happy birthday bro." Grayson gives me a light slap on the shoulder when I bump into him at the early hours of the morning on Friday. He hasn't started his day. The way he rubs his tired eyes as he lingers by the bathroom door is clear that he's still in sleep mode.

I shuffle past him towards the staircase so that he can take a piss. "Thanks man."

I appreciate the fact that he doesn't linger or give me a pitiful look. He knows that this isn't a day that's particularly smooth to get through and it starts the same way each year.

My heart feels heavy as I slide open the door to the room which was originally been built as a study. Instead we'd turned it into a place of memorial. Pictures are hung of my little sister. Her keepsakes are scattered in an organised fashion and her favourite toys are displayed on shelves.

I don't come in here too often. It's painful. Like the most painful thing I do to be honest. Every time I'm in here it's like a fist settles in my stomach and a band tightens around my head, making it hard to feel anything but despair.

Since I told Dallas the truth about Abby, a little of the guilt had lifted. Which I found to be miraculous. But she had a way of making me see that it wasn't entirely my fault. No matter how sincerely I believed it was. I don't think I'll ever feel completely guilt free. But it was a small start. A little part of me felt a fraction more healed.

I fall down into the couch and stare at the large canvas picture on the wall. It's a photo of Abby and I when we were about ten. Dad was about to play against the Eagles - cowboys won of course - and we were dressed up for the occasion. Our faces striped with blue paint and Abby's ponytails wrapped in blue ribbon. Both of us were drowning in old cowboys Jerseys with Dad's number on the back. Damn, did we look happy, leaning over the fence beside the benches where the players rest and refuelled.

We had no idea we were making a memory. One that would stay with me forever. We just knew we were having fun.

I remember clear as day the conversation that we'd had during that game.

"Ah damn it Smith!" I yelled. "Ya missed Holland. He was wide open."

"Drayton, language." Mum scolded. She thinks she's clever but I saw that smile.

"That's gonna be you one day Dray." Abby gave me a nudge with her elbow as she leaned over the fencing.

The whistle was blown and the players were moving back to position.

"Ya reckon?" I asked, watching Dad move down the green field. Man, he is so cool.

"Yeah definitely," she nodded with enthusiasm, waving at one of the players as he walked past towards the waterboy. "One day when we're grown, you'll be the one that's on the field. Girls love quarterbacks. Right Mom?"

Mom didn't answer. She rolled her eyes but once again, I caught that smile on her face. She thinks we're hilarious.

"And dad won't be playing anymore. He'll be old and won't be able to run anymore." Abby and I burst out laughing at the thought.

"Will you come and watch all the games?" I asked Abby and smiled when she started nodding with a big grin.

"Duh! I have to meet my future husband somehow. I think I'll marry one of your best friends."

"Abby!" Mom huffed, running her hands over her face as though the thought of Abby getting married made her stressed out.

"What?" She asked innocently. "It's just the most likely situation Momma. We are twins. So I'll be the same age as all of his friends. And obviously I'll be his number one supporter at all of his games. I'm just being realistic."

Mom bursts into a loud laugh and even I have to admit, it's hilarious to hear my little sister making such plans.

"You've got it all figured out, huh?" Mom asked, ruffling Abby's hair.

"It's my future," Abby shrugged with a no nonsense expression. "Can't leave it to chance."

I furiously wipe at the tears that fall with relentless speed.

"You were always so mature for your age Abby." I sob, feeling a breathless pain in the middle of my chest. "You always knew what you wanted out of life and how to get it."

My head falls into my hands and I cry. I just fucking cry for a solid ten minutes because it fucking hurts. The minute I allow myself to open up and let the reality seep in, it feels like the winds been knocked out of me. Like the weight of the pain will crush me into oblivion. Like the waves of despair are so violent that I even if I swim with all my might, it'll drown me.

"I'm so sorry that I fucked it all up for you. I'm sorry that you didn't get the future you wanted because I let you down."

I'd give anything, anything for her to be back here. To be happy, to be living a life that she wanted. To fall in love, no matter how protective I would have been over her, she would have found someone because everyone adored her and it would have stayed that way as she got older. She should have gotten older.

"Every day I miss you and wish that I'd done things differently that night. I wish I hadn't gone to sleep. I wish I'd have waited for you. I wish that I could have saved you. I love you Abby."

The tears continue to fall and I'm aware that I'm a fucking mess. My nose is running and my face is drenched. But sometimes I just need to let it out because most of the time, I bottle it. I keep a tight lid on the pain and the truth of how my actions make me feel. And it's times like these, that threaten to consume me. Grief is part of who I am. It lives in every bone of my body and I know for a fact that I'll never get over it. I've just learned to live through it. To rebuild a life around the loss. I'll never be the same. But I have to hope that in some ways, it's taught me to love unconditionally, to be cautious, to be aware of how short life can be.

"We would have had an epic eighteenth together. But I hope the angels are throwing you the birthday party you deserve." I lean back in the sofa with a sniffle, staring at the ceiling while tears slide down the sides of my cheeks. "Happy birthday Abby."

• • •

Typically, on my birthday, I'd be attempting to self medicate my pain with copious amounts of alcohol and the distraction of socialising with the rest of the angst ridden teenagers I go to school with.

But Grayson said he was busy tonight and Dallas asked if we could eat food and watch movies. Fortunately for her, what she wants is important to me. So I'll use her as a distraction instead. It sounds horrible to put it in that perspective. But today is painful. That's the simple truth of the matter and when I'm with Dallas, everything feels just a little bit easier. So I'll draw on that and perhaps I'll start a new birthday tradition. At least it won't come with a hangover.

Dallas arrives not too long after I get home and the two of us head upstairs to get the evening started. Sure, the food looks good and I'm looking forward to the quality time. But what looks really delicious. . . is her.

As usual.

Dallas rushes off to the bathroom so I drop the food in the middle of the bed and let her duffle slide off my shoulder and on to the floor before I pick up the remote to switch on the television.

I absentmindedly tug at the drawstring on my sweats while I scroll through Netflix from where I stand beside the bed. There's probably no point putting a lot of thought into what we watch. I don't plan on paying too much attention to the screen once we've finished our food.

I'm not sure how long I'm scrolling through the basic selection of movies when my cellphone dings from my pocket. But it snaps me out of the zoned out state I'd just been in. And when I read the message I become a little confused.

Come to the den. Bring the food.

I have nothing against spending the evening downstairs but it's fucking random that she'd just disappear like that. Meh. I think to myself. The evening can commence all the same wherever we are.

I collect the paper bags and switch the television off, heading down the stairs and towards the den door.

"Dallas?" I call out, shutting the door behind me before I start strolling down the staircase. When I get a view of the room below, I'm floored.

There are candles everywhere, it looks pretty fucking cool. Mood lighting isn't half bad. But when my sights set on her.

Well, fuck.

She sits on the edge of the pool table dressed in a lace set of black lingerie. Thigh high stockings which are attached to suspenders cover her perfect legs and her blonde hair falls in soft curls down her shoulders and back.

She looks so fucking perfect. Like. . . I have no words for the sight before me. It's like a dream. A fucking gorgeous dream.

"Happy birthday." She says quietly, a small smile lifting her lips.

I'm suddenly aware that I'd just been standing there staring at her with my mouth agape. So I start moving forward, not glancing away for even a moment because I'm afraid that if I blink, she'll be gone. I drop the food on the couch as I pass. It no longer holds the slightest interest to me.

"Dallas," I take moment to absorb this to memory. The skin of her thigh that is visible between her tights and underwear is so smooth and inviting. The curve in her waist is just begging for me to hold on and the plump of her bust is so damn inviting that I feel my hand twitching at the urge to reach out and touch her. "Fucking hell, you look amazing."

I grip underneath her knees and spread her legs so I can stand between them. Where else could I possibly be right now if it wasn't between these legs that make me fucking wild.

"Best birthday ever." I mumble, tugging on the strap of her bra while I continue to devour her with my eyes. Goosebumps lift on her smooth skin at the mere graze of my fingers on her chest and I feel the stiff between my legs growing at the thought of making her so aroused.

"Here," she turns around, reaching back and picking up a little gift box before she shoves it into my hands. "Open it!"

"You expect me to concentrate on something while you're sitting in front of me - looking like. . . That." I sweep her frame again and almost groan at how fucking good she looks. I almost want to throw the gift over my shoulder because all I need is right in front of me.

But that would be rude.

"We still have to eat as well!" She gestures towards the couch with a small smile.

Fucking good luck to her.

"I'll open this." I sigh as I start pulling the ribbon off the little box. "But I'm not eating a fucking thing, unless it's in between your legs."

A small giggle breezes from past her lips - which I'm trying not to look at, because I might just lose all control - as I finish opening the gift box to reveal the chain and dog tags inside the satin casing.

The picture captures my attention first and I feel a stab in the chest at the picture of Abby, which was taken about two months before she died. I pull the tags out of the box and regard them with awe while I read the second tag, turning it in my hands.

Abigail Lahey. 12th January 1999.
Beloved daughter, sister and best friend.
Gone but never forgotten.

I stare at it, bewildered by the thoughtfulness behind this gift. Damn, she went and had something made that is so near and dear to me and that is fucking overwhelming. I feel a choked sob trying to form in my throat because typically it brings up painful memories of the past but just the fact that Dallas got me something that means so much to me, it just proves how right she is for me. Not that I doubted it.

I meet her gaze and see the nervous expression. I suppose giving me something like this would be a little daunting. But I relieve her waiting anticipation with a smile.

"I love it." My voice breaks a little and I cough to clear my throat, clenching my jaw in an attempt to put an end to the threatening tears. If I don't kiss this girl immediately, I might have a fucking break down and that would ruin the evening, just a little.

I drop the tags back into the box and set it on the pool table before I pull her into a kiss that I don't hesitate to deepen. Winding my hands around the back of her neck and collecting a fistful of her blonde locks in my hand.

"Thank you," I tell her, disconnecting our mouths only enough to get the words of appreciation out. "Thank you babe. You have no idea how much this all means to me."

And she doesn't. She couldn't possibly know how fucking healing it is to have her here. To have her know what I've been through and to care for me anyway. Her soul is so bright and beautiful that it makes me feel so undeserving of her affections.

I'd been worried that it'd be hard to get through the evening without blacking out. But this is better than any party could have been. It's more therapeutic to have this girl in my arms and damn, I'd do anything to make sure that I never lose her.

• • •

I walk into the kitchen after I've seen Dallas out a bit later the next morning. Grayson is shuffling through the kitchen drawers, briefly glancing up at my approach before he averts his gaze back down on the task before him.

I'm reminded of the mildly awkward incident when we'd run into each other as I carried Dallas bridal style through the house. . . naked.

"So. . ." He starts without meeting my eyes.

I come to a standstill on the other side of the kitchen island and glare at him. "Remove the image of my girl half naked from your mind. . . Or I'll remove it for you."

"What image?" He laughs nervously, looking up at me through his lashes. "I just got home. Right now. I don't even remember what I was doing until three seconds ago."

I roll my eyes at his attempt to save himself. But I can't ignore the humour in the situation. He seems so nervous and as much as I want to continue making him feel uncomfortable, I spare him.

"What are you looking for?" I ask.

He slides the drawer shut and rests his palms flat against the counter top, tapping his fingers with a thoughtful expression. "The taps for the kegs."

"Pretty sure they're in the Den." I stare out the window while I recount where I last saw them. "Yeah I think we used them down there during the summer. Come on."

I start walking out of the kitchen, Grayson catching up behind me after a few moments. "Uh.. do I wanna go down there?" I turn to see his contorted expression and roll my eyes.

"Relax." I pull the den door open and gesture for him to go first. "I don't cum all over the furniture like you, ya spaz."

"The fuck?" He recoils, standing at the threshold with an unimpressed but guilty expression. "I don't do that."

"Yeah, the white stains on your bed board would suggest otherwise." I grip his shoulder and guide him down the stairs, flicking the light on as we go. "Honestly, I want to know how you even managed that. But at the same time, I feel like the truth would be fucking disturbing."

The only response I get is something along the lines of stupid book of positions. That's for more information than I need or want.

"You gonna leave the candles?" Grayson asks as we move through the den towards the small kitchen space.

"Yeah they look pretty cool at night." I mumble, opening the small double door cabinet above the sink. Sure enough the keg taps are sitting amongst a bunch of other bits and pieces.

"Oh these turned out cool."

I turn around to see Grayson admiring the dog tags that I'd left on the pool table last night.

"Is that how Dallas got the picture of Abby?" I walk towards him and we swap objects. He takes the taps and I lift the dangling tags from his fingers as if they're the most delicate things on the planet.

"Yeah, Dallas asked me to get the photo for her. Obviously I was the only one she could ask."

I hadn't given it much thought at the time but it does make sense.

"So did you have a good night?" Grayson asks but quickly holds his hand up to stop me from answering. "Without too much detail."

I chuckle at his wincing expression as I undo the dog tag chain and lift it around my neck, fastening it from behind. "Yeah it was good. . . Really good actually."

"Did you finally tell her that you love her?"

I slip the tags under my shirt and give him a pointed look. "I'll tell her when I feel like it won't freak the fuck outta her."

"It won't scare her. It's obvious she's obsessed with you." Grayson and I start back towards the stair case and I wonder if I should clean the couch before guests start arriving for the party.

Na. Who cares.

"We're not even. . . a labelled couple yet." I tell him, watching my feet as we trudge up the carpeted stair case. "She's not like most girls. She won't just say I love you for the sake of it."

"You guys are fucked up ae." Grayson chortles, holding the door as I walk past him and into the corridor. "So dramatic."

He might be right. We might make things more complicated than they need to be. But I royally fucked up so many times in the beginning and there's no chance that I'm going to do that again.

I hope.

• • •

Hey y'all. How are we all enjoying the bonus chapters?
Thank you all for getting me to rank number 2 on the teen fiction list. That is so damn wild. Y'all have no idea 😭🙏🏻 I love you guys.

Also, I found this chapter extremely difficult due to the fact that I've never lost anyone close to me. Capturing the emotion may not have been perfect but I did try. ❤️

So much love to all of you. x