Still Nina's POV, sorry... I know, she's getting a bit annoying. She's the star in most of my stories - I know, I'm sorry. Anyway, this one is longer than the other ones! A bit of a gift for sticking with me with my awful schedule... Okay, without further talking, enjoy!
Soon, the sky shifts to a lovely orange tinge, signaling that evening is fast approaching. Cicadas begin to chirp in the air, their sounds carried on the light breeze that is so common here in northern California. The faint outline of a crescent moon can be seen a little bit above the eastern horizon, colored a milky white as it prepares to rise to the crest of the sky.
All of Anubis House is clustered around my Gran's old fire pit that we never use. But we do have a few pieces of wood sitting in a pile near the sliding door leading into the house, so we grab a few logs, some stray sticks lying around the yard, and a dozen handfuls of weeds scattered around to pile them together in the fire pit. Then, I light a match and toss it in, alighting the mound in the pit, and we have a fire.
Gran hands us all some pokers, a bag of marshmallows, a few bars of Hershey's chocolate, and a couple boxes of graham crackers. And with all of those ingredients, of course we have to make s'mores.
Amber is somewhere in the house, her excuse being that she needed her beauty sleep, even though it was only eight-thirty. But I have a feeling that she just does not want to be around the sugary temptations of marshmallows and chocolate, or the bugs that may eat her alive because she wears so much sweet-smelling perfume.
On one side, Alfie and Jerome are trying to fit as many marshmallows into their mouths as possible, while Mara and Patricia are looking on, completely grossed out. Eddie is sticking as many marshmallows on his poker as possible, ignoring the fact that some of the marshmallows are being burned to a crisp and falling into the fire pit. Mick and Joy said that they were tired from the flight and would tuck in early for the night. But from the sounds that I heard from the room beside my own when I was about to go down to the pool, they were watching movies and laughing. Fabian and I are snuggling together, his arm encircling my waist while my head is on his chest. I clutch the poker and hold it over the fire, waiting for the marshmallow to get nice and toasty.
We have not bothered to change back into regular clothes, instead, we all used our towels to keep warm. I can feel my feet slowly turning numb, so I wriggle out of Fabian's arms, startling him into almost dropping the poker into the fire.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Yeah, I just need to stand up and walk around for a bit. I'm fine. I'll be back in a few minutes," I say. I give him a quick kiss on the cheek, slip on my flip-flops, then wrap the towel around my shoulders as I walk on pins and needles.
I open the sliding door, feeling the cool air swirl around me, but making me chilly because it is such a contrast from the warm summer air outside. I shut the door behind me, letting out a small sigh.
"What's wrong, Nina?" I hear Gran say from the kitchen.
I lift my head to see her sitting at the breakfast bar, a cup of tea in hand that steams, as if it has just been made. I smile weakly at her, approaching the breakfast bar and taking a seat beside her.
I avoid the question, though, instead saying, "What kind of tea is that, Gran?"
"Chamomile. You look like you could use some. Now, what's going on?"
"N-Nothing. I'm fine." I turn to my hands in my lap, seeing them twist and untwist the towel in my fingers.
"Do you honestly expect me to believe that, Nina? I know you. I know when something is worrying you," Gran says.
"I can tell you anything, I know. But there's nothing to tell, I'm perfectly fine."
She just stares at me for a moment, examining me to see if I will suddenly break and tell her the truth. But, surprisingly enough, she doesn't say anything and looks back at her tea.
Feeling a bit shaken from Gran's small interrogation, I go back out into the early evening air, sit back down next to Fabian - who greets me with a smile - and lie my head on his shoulder, not wanting to think about anything but the marshmallows I need to cook for the s'mores. As I stare into the gold-orange flames, I feel heavy weights of guilt about not telling Gran what was really on my mind continue to drop onto my heart.*
. . .
The next few days, I am able to get over my guilt and actually have fun. Gran appears to have forgotten all about our conversation in the kitchen, and for that I am grateful. I have continued to write the song in the notebook Patricia stole from me on that first day. Who was that song meant for, you may ask? Fabian, of course. It is his birthday in about a month, so I want to make something from me that really means something.
One day is especially hard, because nothing is coming to me. I have about a quarter of the song done: the rhythm in my head, the lyrics written down and corresponding to the melody - but it just does not seem to be coming together.
"Okay," I muse, tapping the nearly-finished eraser tip of my pencil to my forehead as I contemplate the next stanza of lyrics. "Summer doesn't last forever . . . We all have to grow up someday. These are the best days of our lives . . . So we might as well make it worth it... Every time I look in your blue eyes, you make me fall harder, every time. I love your smile, the sound of your voice. The song in your heart, you make me rejoice-"
Not liking the way the lyrics are flowing together, I groan, and rip the paper from its binding, crumpling it into a ball. I can not write a freaking thing. This song sucks, and now I have no present for Fabian's birthday!
I dig my fingers through my hair, almost tearing it from its roots. Why can I not write a decent song? I've heard Fabian sing amazing songs, even just simple scales, when I walked by his room at Anubis House. How can it come so easy to him, while I'm struggling to just make it to the chorus? What is my present going to be now - now that my song is ruined?
A soft knock on my bedroom door jolts me out of my thoughts. My eyes snap open, turning to the person at the door. There is Amber, a small smile on her pretty face.
"Hey, Nina. What's going on?" Amber inquires curiously.
"Amber!" I start, trying to pat down my suddenly-tangled hair. I set down the notebook on her bed, sitting up to greet my best friend. "Hi, um, how are you?"
"Fine." She lifts an eyebrow. "Again, I repeat: what are you doing?"
"I-" I eye the open door, wondering if anyone will bother to eavesdrop on our conversation from the hallway. "Could you close the door?"
She nods, and the door shuts with a thud. I pick up the notebook from the bed and the crumpled wad of paper, handing both to her. She raises both eyebrows in confusion, but I just motion for her to read them.
I see her eyes scanning the lines, then they widen, and she drops the notebook and paper, a wide grin on her face. A squeal escapes her lips, and she rushes over to hug me.
"You're writing him a song?" she exclaims. She bites her lip, like she is trying to suppress her giggling.
I nod, a blush evident on my cheeks. "It's for his birthday, y'know, in a month or so."
"That is so romantic! Can I get a picture of you two when you sing it to him?"
I frown. "Um, no, sorry. I mean, it's kind of personal and private and-"
"Oh. Right." She gives a light laugh. "Sorry."
"Anyway, can I test it on you?" I ask her, picking up my guitar from the side of the bed.
"You have to ask? Yes, of course!" Amber perches on the side of my bed beside me, her attention completely centered on me. I gulp, feeling a bit nervous to actually sing in front of someone.
But as I begin strumming the melancholy notes of the song, it all seemed to fit together and sound beautiful. My voice flows in perfect harmony with the lyrics, and all the doubts I had about the song were put away. This was perfect.
And my theories are proven when I finish the first part, the only part I have actually completed, and Amber is looking teary-eyed, her lip quivering, but a small smile still on her face.
"That was amazing! You have to play that for him! Like, as soon as possible!" She snatches my guitar and notebook from my hands, racing to the door to probably head to Fabian's room.
Before Amber can run out of the room, I skid in front of her, making her stop in her tracks. I press my back against the door to make sure she cannot leave. It is one thing to sing it in front of Amber, my best friend, who I can tell anything to. But it is an entirely different thing to sing this in front of Fabian. Especially when it is not done or I'm still fretting over the minor details. To perform the song with those things in mind - that would take some courage to do.
"But it's not done!" I say hastily. "I'll do it during the last week you guys are here, okay? I-I want it to be perfect when I play it for him."
"Oh okay." She hands me back my guitar and notebook, smiling sweetly. Then she shouts, "Oh, Faaabian!"
I clamp a hand over her mouth, muffling her shouts. But within a minute, Fabian rushes in, a look of confusion on his face.
"Yeah?" He sees our strange positions. "Um, Nina? Why are you covering Amber's mouth?"
I sigh, removing my hand. But I really should not have done that, because a stream of words spills out of the blonde's mouth: "Nina is making you a song and she really wants you to listen to it!"
"Amber!" I hiss.
Fabian raises his eyebrows in surprise. "A song? Can I hear it?"
"Um, er, well, it's not really, uh, finished yet . . ." I stammer, trying to form a coherent sentence while I try to hide my blush.
I can hear the smile in her voice, even though I am not seeing it for myself, as she says, "Well, I'll just leave you two here so you can continue this conversation in private."
I pretend to tune the strings of my guitar while Amber leaves, the door quietly closing behind her, not wanting to meet Fabian's eyes. It is silent for a few moments, the silence only disturbed by the light notes being played as I tune.
"So, do you want to play the song?" he asks meekly. I jump in surprise, momentarily forgetting that he is there, only being lost in the sound of my guitar's music.
"Um, sure," I reply nervously.
I grab the song book, already on the right page, and I quickly scan over the notes. Even though I have memorized most of the song so far, I am so nervous to sing it to him that I have to read it twice to make sure I know what I am doing.
One deep breath. My hand plays the first note, and I try to sing, but it comes out as a croak. I clear my throat, stopping my strumming, and try to sing a scale. It comes out as a few squeaks and a flat note.
"Nina, are you okay? You seem a bit nervous," Fabian observes.
You don't say? I think to myself sarcastically. But I nod, dropping my guitar into my lap and covering my face with my hands, my pick still between my fingers.
"I'm just- I don't know. I want it to be perfect, and this isn't the best I can do. I mean- I wanted this for your birthday, and now the surprise is ruined-" I try to say, but it just sounds jumbled and confusing and I just shake my head.
"Nina, you sound fine. I'm sure the song is amazing, too," he encourages.
I don't saying anything, I just drown in pools of my own embarrassment.
The pressure of my guitar disappears from my lap, and the sound of crinkling paper tells me that Fabian has taken the song book from my side. The mattress sags beside me, and I know that he has sat beside me. Well, that, and the fact that I feel the warmth of another person at my side.
"Nina, uncover your eyes." Fabian's voice is in my ear, and I shake my head. I hear him sigh, then soft, war hands envelop me own, and I lock eyes with his beautiful blue irises.
"I can't do it. I'm so bad at it," I whisper.
He shakes his head, a small, wistful smile on his face. "No. I've heard you sing. You're amazing, Nina. You can do this." I turn red from the memory.
He has heard me sing. More accidently, than anything. I had been in Anubis House, the last day of term before leaving for summer break, and I had been singing in the shower, humming an old lullaby that my mom had sung to me when I was a little girl. After I wrapped myself in a towel, I stepped outside of the bathroom, my bundle of clothes in hand.
But before I went anywhere, I ran smack into Fabian, who was gawking at me. I yelped in surprise - yes, we are boyfriend and girlfriend, but it was still embarrassing that he saw me only in a towel. We only stared at each other before I skittered away in total and utter mortification.
Fabian wraps his arms around me, placing his hands over mine. He moves my fingers to a C chord, then uses the other hand to strum. We both hum the first lyric together as the sweet sound of the guitar rings strongly in the quiet room.
I smile, shaking my head. Because of our closeness, I feel Fabian laugh softly.
"What? That's how you do it!" he says.
"I know, I know," I laugh, continuing to strum, though without his help. "I just feel stupid that I can't sing in front of you."
"You're not stupid. It's just nerves. I get them all of the time," Fabian murmurs, dropping his hands from my own and leaving one wrapped loosely around my waist.
"What do you have to be nervous about?" I inquire. "You're pretty much perfect."
Fabian laughs, and I can tell that he is shaking his head. "Nina, I can't believe you said that. I am so far from perfect, it is ridiculous."
"Really," I say doubtfully, absentmindedly changing to a simple A chord.
"Yes, really."
"I doubt it."
He sighs. "Do you want an example? Well, I'm nervous whenever I'm around you."
My hand pauses, leaving the last string still, not played. Dropping my hand, the pick falls to the ground, my fingertips grazing that forgotten string to let the last note sound. I move my gaze to find his, where he is looking down at his feet, his face a little red.
"You are?" I question, a little bit doubtful, but also stunned.
"Of course I am. Y-You make my heart beat fast wh-when I see you - n-not only because y-you're so beautiful, b-but because you're just . . . you."
I blush and scoff, though I take his hand and squeeze it. "Well, thank you. I always try to act like me throughout the entire day."
He exhales as if he is holding his breath, awaiting my reply. He rolls his eyes, but still smiles at me. "You know what I mean. Y-You're so down to earth, and-and amazing, a-and fearless, and . . . m-my Chosen One."
I blush even more at the last part, remembering the dance for the end of the Exhibition party at the Frobisher-Smythe library, where Fabian and I had made up as a couple and he called me his Chosen One. It was probably one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me.
"So am I the Chosen dancer?" I ask innocently, wondering if I can actually have a little fun with this.
"You're not that bad," Fabian remarks.
"Oh, thanks, boyfriend."
"You wanted me to be honest!"
"Not really!"
"Well, do you want to try, then?" Fabian offers.
I hesitate for a moment, eyeing the area around us for a moment to make sure that if I fell - and knowing my skill level of dancing, that would happen - we will not break anything valuable. Once I am assured that nothing of too much importance will need to be replaced, I stand up with the help of his hand, his arms immediately wrapping around my waist.
I curl my arms around his neck, and for a moment, I am transported back to the night of our first kiss, of the End-of-Term Prom, where we were crowned King and Queen by Amber. I am looking like a mess in my purple dress with a dorky crown on my head, while Fabian is looking as handsome as a geek can be in his sleek, black tux. I am staring into his eyes as we shuffle back in forth in an awkward slow dance together. But it does not matter that we look like idiots, or that everyone is staring at us, dancing on stage, because we are there together, and that is all that matters at the moment.
And then I am thrust back into the present, where I and the same boy that I kissed on that day are standing in an almost identical position to that night, only this time there is no music, no dorky crowns, and no fancy attire. Just two teenagers, dancing in a sixteen-almost-seventeen-year-old girl's room, to no music, in the middle of the summer.
"Do we need some music?" I wonder aloud.
"I bet one pound that Amber will have something planned for us to dance to in the next minute," he assures me.
"I'm willing to take that bet," I tease.
From what I can gauge, a minute has passed and no sound besides our soft breathing has been heard. For once, Amber has left us alone, giving her "Fabina" some privacy.
"It's been a minute," I observe.
"Has it?" he asks, peering at his watch. The slight nod of his head only confirms the time.
"Since I don't know where my pounds are in this messy area that I call a room, would you accept a kiss as payment instead?" I question.
He just smiles, leaning toward me, and I meet him right in the middle. I honestly cannot stop smiling as I kiss him. The butterflies in my stomach go insane, fluttering like there is an insect collector after them with his net; my heart pounds like it wants to leap out of my chest; I can feel the blush on my cheeks grow even redder than before. But I cannot even bother to worry about that, because the only thought that I can formulate in my mind is that his lips are really warm.
My fingers tangle in the curly hair at the nape of his neck as the kiss deepens, and I feel myself being pulled even closer to him when his arms circle more securely around my waist. But then it is ruined with a squeal by a certain blonde roommate that, at the moment, I want to strangle.
I should of known this would happen, but I was hoping that she was still taking her nap or shower or something that would avert her from this room so that she would not break up this moment. But alas, it is like the universe just wants to torture us with the constant interruptions that never allow us one moment of peace.
"This is going to be on the main page of your scrapbook!" she squeals as a bright light makes Fabian and I break apart in surprise.
The two of us exchange glances, both of us annoyed, but also realizing how intense that kiss was. Our faces both redden and we glance away from each other as we pat down our hair and straighten out our shirts.
Amber is still being the intrusive, inquisitive, love guru that I have come to know, and to occasionally be extremely annoyed, and love. Fabian and I never get more than five minutes to kiss alone, even in the privacy of my room. Nothing is changed, which, I suppose, is a good thing, since we all grow up and grow older/drift apart. I guess something pre-determined is a sign that not everything has to change, no matter how old we get.
*: Sorry for the terrible grammar, especially here. Ugh, I just couldn't construct that sentence correctly... No matter what I did!
By the way, next chapter is Eddie's POV. GASP. Or is it...?
...
No, it is. (:
This was kind of cute, but mostly fluff that's prepping for the next chapter. I'm going to spare you guys the sob story of why this update is so freaking late. But I do need to get your opinion on the possible names for the story!
Sent in by:
-CatchingRaindrops (love your name, by the way xD): A Possibility
-Neddieluver22: Summer in America / Summer=Love/Summer=Neddie / Confusing Love/Love Is Confusing
-And my own: Opposites Attract
So please vote - and do not vote mine just because I am the author - and let me know which one is your favorite! And I am not voting, just for the record, I want this to just be the readers' choice. :D Thank you so much, everyone, now please review... (Even though I don't deserve it.)
~Ary