A/N: So, it's been a while since my last update, but I've been writing other stuff and wasting time on YouTube. You know. Anyway, this is a little short as it's only two chapters opposed to four, but I'm almost finished with Chapter 7 and I figured you guys deserved an update. Here it is…
The Summer I Forgot to Change
5. The Beauty of Sunrise
"Embry?" I could not remember the last time I was up this early. My alarm clock flashed 5:04 in bright, happy numbers. Stupid thing.
"Yeah. Ohmigod, Cole, I remembered!" Embry's voice didn't sound tired in the least bit, and I'll be damned if I had to use my brain and figure out why. Brushing it off, I glanced out the window – the sky, of course, was still black.
I groaned. "Remembered what?" Sitting up in bed, because I knew I'd never fall back asleep, I pulled my hair into a ponytail, cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder. This had better be good, because if it could have waited an hour – or five, really, – I was already planning the best way to blow up Embry's phone without it looking obvious.
"How I know Dean. Duh. He was in my art class, you know the one that you dumped for drama," she carried on in a cheerful tone. I could hear her moving around, and things beeping in the background. Getting up so that I could see – through my window – into her bedroom, I found her light was off.
"Cool. Hey, where are you?" I asked.
"Kitchen. I'm baking a cake. Wanna come over and help?" Her voice was still insanely bright. My eyes darted to her kitchen window, where, sure enough, yellow light was illuminating a dancing Embry. Who the hell could be dancing at this hour? Embry.
I had absolutely no intentions of getting dressed, getting outside, or baking a freaking cake. But I didn't have anything better to do, either. "Yeah, okay. Why the cake, though?" I walked across the room to my dresser, stretching.
"Dunno," I could practically hear her smile. There was something wrong with this chick. And, despite my sleepy state, I almost laughed at how many times I'd thought that. At least she was still crazy; that much hadn't changed.
"So, he gave you a quarter, too?"
I licked frosting off the rubber spatula. Alas, chocolate, how I love thee. "Yup. Strange, right?"
"A little," Embry agreed with a smile. "I think," she paused, stuffing our masterpiece into the fridge, "he gave me one. In art. Maybe he hands them out?" she mused.
"Right. Maybe…" I trailed off. I was sitting on Embry's kitchen counter, waving my feet in the air. Left, right, left, right, left…
"I mean, I'm sure there's some other reason… I hope, at least," I added, eventually, when Embry didn't reply. Now it was six- thirty, and the sun was making an appearance through the east window. Embry and I sat in silence, watching as it slowly crept it's way over the cloudless sky. Dean and his quarters was proving to be an amusing mystery. Or it was to me, at least, as the most action I ever got was in paperbacks from Borders.
"You should go, 'cause your mom probably wont buy that you woke up at five to make a cake." Embry stated finally.
"Actually, some weirdo called me, and I just happened to stumble over here in my daze," I paused, to catch her expression – which was determinedly blank – as I said this, "but you're right, she's not bound to believe that either."
"See ya'."
"'Bye, Embry."
6. Butterfingers
After pretending to wake up when my mother appeared, at ten, in my doorway, I sat up, still in the same clothes – jeans and a red Wheeler t-shirt. I sat on my the corner of my bed balancing a cell phone in one hand, and using the other to force my feet into the black hightops I'd owned all year. I walked past Ashley's room – a wave of Avril Lavigne came bursting from her computer, ("and certain guys don't understand that I don't want to hold your hand a certain time of the month…") oh, the little brat didn't know the half of it- and, really, what was so wrong with using a radio anymore? – and downstairs. Walking past the kitchen to the living room I shouted, "I'll be at the mall," to whoever happened to be listening, then skipped through the room and out the door. I hummed, throwing my car keys in the air and catching them again, until I reached my truck. I swear the white coat peeled off intentionally, daily, just to embarrass me. I sighed at my once-new car, or new-looking, as I had bought it second-hand from the school guidance counselor last year. Don't ask.
The mall was a crowded haze, typical back-to-school week. The thought hit me hard as I realized that in a mere five days school would start again. Ugh. And I'd have to take Biology. Double ugh. With a squeal, Alice Turner ran flat into me – or hugged me, I guess.
"Ohmigod. Like, Cole, it's, like, so great to see you! How was your summer?" she paused a second, not long enough for me to get a word in, just to take a deep breath, "Mine was, like, so boring. I mean, I went to Italy, but it wasn't, like, that exciting. I mean, everything was all old and stuff, you know?"
I forced myself to laugh, "Yeah. But I'll bet the-"
"Even though there were, like, really hot guys. But, like, none of them spoke English. It was kind of cool, because, like, they could be calling me pretty or something…From what I gathered, though, mosquito means cute." Alice twisted a golden lock around her French-tipped finger, blowing a huge, pink bubble.
I had to bite my lip, hard, to keep from roaring with laughter. Alice had sitten by me all last year in Latin… apparently I had been the only one paying attention. Oh God, how I was a nerd…
"Well nice to see you, Cole," she smiled, "I gotta split." Alice nodded pointedly at a tall, bulky blond standing a yard or so behind her. She giggled and ran off, pulling him by the hand into Abercrombie and Fitch. His face was priceless.
"What a terrible accent." I froze, immediately recognizing the soft, English voice. Slowly, I turned to face Dean. He smiled at me adorably, and I heard myself intake a good amount of air.
"Yeah, she is a little annoying," I moved toward him, pulling my hair out of the ponytail, which must have looked completely harassed by now. I desperately ran a hand through my hair, while trying to make the gesture as casual-looking as possible. A smile played the edges of his lips, and I figured he didn't buy my non-caring act for a second.
"Just a bit; I'd wager."
"Mhm. Very Britishly put," I commented, and a playful smirk crossed his face.
They walked side by side for a while before he abruptly halted in front of Johnny Rockets. "I love this place. Want to have a quick burger?"
"Dean, everybody loves this place," You'll have to be more original than that, I teased. But I was not going to refuse an open invitation for lunch with most likely the hottest guy I had met this summer. Nuh-uh. "Although, we can't have you eating alone, can we? I guess I can sit with you."
"Because it would be so rude not to, yes?" he played along, though clearly not believing a word of my play-it-cool routine. Either my game was off today, or this guy actually knew how to spell 'you' - Which, let me tell you, came rare at my school.
"Of course." I replied tonelessly. I strode casually to the left, toward the Johnny Rockets entrance, while my insides were bursting with anything but casualty. My heart skipped a beat as he nonchalantly intertwined my hand with his, pulling me into a red booth near the back. He sat across from me and a playful expression settled on his face.
"Late night?" Dean asked.
Shit. I must have had circles… or something. "More like early morning. Five."
He groaned. "Why?"
I considered telling him, but my instinct decided against it. Instead, I half-smiled mischievously. And then completely ruined it when a full out grin pulled at my lips in response to the startled gape that crossed his face. Upon realizing what he was doing, his features cleared, quickly becoming more of a careless façade. The waitress, a middle-aged woman with a beehive hairstyle and liquid eyeliner, appeared suddenly.
"What choo' want, dears?" she drawled with a smile, handing us menus. Gotta love Johnny Rockets.
"Butterfinger shake, please," Dean and I answered together. We looked at each other and he laughed. I turned away, blushing, and rested my ear on my shoulder to hide a smile.
The waitress sighed, shaking her head and holding back a smile of her own. On her way to the back, she tossed another glance at them over her shoulder. I slowly directed my gaze back at Dean, and found him staring at me. He blinked, and looked away quickly.
"What?" I pushed some hair out of my eyes and left my hand there, afraid I had a zit or something.
"Nothing."
And the sad part was, I really had no idea why he had been staring.