I liked Miles, I really did. But it was times like this where I was forced to just nod and pretend to be listening. He was going off about some kid who he'd gotten into a fist fight with earlier, but what else was new?
His right-off-the-boat accent made it impossible to understand most of what he was saying, and even if I had the ability to understand Scottish people, I don't think I'd be able to make it out. When he was angry, he was angry, and that was that.
"Would you shut up? I can't hear Ellen!" I hush him, straining to hear the petite, short haired blonde on the TV screen. Friday nights were Ellen nights, he knew this. So why did he insist on bothering me with such nonsense? "You look horrible by the way." I tell him, getting a quick glance at his swelling temple.
I don't need to tell him there's ice in the kitchen, he already knows. When he gets his ice, he brings me back a coke, but I'm too distracted by the beautiful face of my secret lover that I don't thank him. It isn't until the credits are rolling over Ellen's famous chair that I finally give him my full attention.
"Who was it this time?" I ask, sipping on my coke and crossing my legs under me on the couch.
"Some asshole from La Push. Those guys think they can do anything now they've got that gang protecting them." He rants, my understanding almost lost in his quick rises and falls in the words.
"Miles, everyone's an asshole to you." I sigh, and roll my eyes. He looks at me and it seems like those bright blue eyes of his are laughing. I ruffle his dark hair and stand, and he stands too, but then I sit because he was way too tall. "Let's go to Ash's." I offer, and Miles nods in agreement, and I can see the aggravation slipping off his face.
Ash was a friend of ours, but if you ask me, he liked Miles better. Not that I minded. Much. Ash was expecting us, and I guess he always kind of was. He had three beers set out in front of him when we walked in his house, and he quickly informed us that pizza was on the way. The TV in front of him blasted some show about women in jail, which I chose to ignore.
Ash was weird, as Miles first told me before he introduced us. He was our age, but lived alone in a small house near the res. He was the legal guardian of his younger sister, who was more excited to see me than anyone else I'd ever met. Everyone in town referred to him as 'that stoner kid' but I never actually saw him get stoned, and since me and Miles were really his only friends, I'd say that those rumors are vicious lies. As most rumors tended to be.
"Bout time you got here." Mel struts her nine year old body out into the living room, her narrow hips swaying. She had a thing for Miles. She said he reminded her of the posters in her room. The ones of men posing charmingly in front of a car, or music notes.
"Look what I got, Mel." Miles tells her, pointing to his bruised temple. She gasps dramatically and shys away from him, coming to sit next to me as Miles and Ash laugh, cracking open their beers.
"You're not gonna drink that, are you?" Mel asks, her face scrunched in disgust at the scent of beer.
I was, I think, but instead shake my head no and say "Of course not ew." After all, we were juniors in high school. Technically this was illegal.
"Nice dress Ria." Ash winks at me, and I pull the thin white fabric that's ridden up my thighs down to cover my knee before covering Mel's eyes and giving him the finger.
"Mel, I'll put you to bed." Ash says and stands. It was weird to see him like this. Nice, I mean. He never really was nice to anyone else. It was usually him who started most of the fights Miles gets into. I think that'd how they met. Ash punched Miles, and Miles beat the shit out of him, and then they were best friends.
"Calm enough for that La Push party tomorrow?" I ask Miles, and he smiles at me, really bright like.
"What's the worst that could happen?"