Chapter 6➷ We're a Forever Kind of Thing

                                    

                                          
It continued to rain even as I went to bed, and it didn't stop until dawn. When I woke up, however, the sun was up and beaming in its best mood as if the downpour had not happened last night.
                          
In a way, this was who I wished to become; someone who could metaphorically rage against the roofs in the gloomy dusk of my feelings to let them out and could still smile at dawn just like the sun peeking through the window into my room.
                          
Motivated to make a change in my attitude and start the day right, I closed my eyes to go back to sleep. Right then, my phone vibrated, followed by a maddening ringtone as if the universe found it amusing to mock me. In a blunt movement to reach my nightstand, I rolled off the bed and banged my head on the floor. I lacked the energy to get up and take the phone, so I just lay on the floor in a painful version of the corpse pose.
                          
The phone did not stop ringing. I knew it had to be Arson.
                          
I reached up to the nightstand without standing up and patted the surface of the stand until my fingers closed around the screeching device. I answered it, placed it on my ear, and yawned.
                          
"Why are you calling?"
                          
"It's nice to hear your voice as well," he replied, and I could almost hear him smiling on the other end. "How's your Saturday going?"
                          
"You just woke me up! What on earth do you want?"
                          
"Glad you asked. I'm heading to your house right now."
                          
"Why? What's wrong with yours?"
                          
He laughed. "Just get ready, okay? We're going out."
                          
He quickly hung up before I could protest.
                          
I remained on the floor for a while without moving. I looked at the opposite corner of the room where another bed emerged out of nothing. A frustrated Riley was lying across the bed, her head dangling above the floor and her eyes looking up.
                          
"I mean, I don't get it," she was saying. "I know I told him to stay away from me, but I obviously didn't mean it."
                          
Back then, I was simply amused at her restlessness, as those who are emotionally removed from a couple's fights often are.
                          
"Don't forget the 'Go to hell' part," I pointed out. "Maybe he's actually planning the trip."
                          
She scowled at me. "Very funny. I was just angry. He knows I say things that I don't mean when I'm upset. It's already been two weeks."
                          
"Shouldn't you be worried about finals or something?"
                          
She slid off the bed and sat on the floor. Ignoring me, she went on about Avan.
                          
"We've never had a fight like this. We usually just wrestle it out and talk about it. If we're not speaking to each other, how are we supposed to fix it?" She paused to chew on her nails. "I don't want us to break up because of gossip out of all things."
                          
"So, you don't believe he kissed Victoria?"
                          
"Of course not. I know they're just friends. I trust him."
                          
"Then what was the whole 'stay away from me' act about?"
                          
"I don't know. He didn't even bother to explain to me what happened as if I'm supposed to blindly trust him—I mean, I do, but he doesn't have to be so smug about it."
                          
I remember trying to hold my giggles in, but I laughed until my stomach hurt. She rolled her eyes at me and continued to speak.
                          
"And now I don't want him to think I don't trust him. This whole relationship thing is founded on trust." She sighed in frustration. "Why do I love that idiot?"