Authors: Ruth Houston
I was really tired. A whole day with Winter would be enough to tire out anyone. And then, there was that phone call my dad gave me.
My mind was muddy, sinking deeper and deeper, becoming heavier and heavier. I struggled to keep my eyes open, but it was just too hard…
"Zack… Zack?"
"No," I mumbled. "Stop…" Someone was poking me gently.
"Zack, wake up," a familiar voice said. Very familiar. 'And very pretty,' my tired mind noted.
I forced my eyelids open and saw a fuzzy image of a beautiful girl.
"Zack, it's four AM," she said. "I have to go."
Unh. I couldn't keep my eyes open. It was Winter that was in my arms right now, right? My mind was too muddled to think straight. I shook my head, eyes shut tight. "Nope… You have to stay, I'm too… tired…"
"Zack, please," Winter said. "My dad's going to kill me if I don't show up tomorrow morning. I – have – to – leave."
I groaned. "Five more minutes, please?" I begged, sighing.
"Fine… five more minutes," she relented.
~
Winter
~
I couldn't help smiling just a little. He sounded so much like a little kid bargaining with his mom on a school morning.
Shoot… we had fallen asleep. I didn't really
want
to get up. It was too comfortable; Zack was so warm. I knew my parents wouldn't stay up to wait for me to arrive at home, because they trusted me. But if I failed to make an appearance at breakfast, there would be hell to pay.
I looked up at Zack, who, apparently, had fallen back asleep. We were almost lying down completely on the couch. In the dark of the room (had Victoria come in to turn off the lights?) his features were cast in shadow, and once again I was reminded about our conversation last night. What a mystery he was to most people.
I watched him for a while, also keeping an eye on the clock. Those enigmatic golden eyes of his were concealed at the moment, but still framed by dark, soft-looking eyelashes. I reached up and tugged ever-so-gently on a lock of his curly hair. Zack turned his head slightly in his state of half-sleep, and I resumed watching the clock. They say you learn something new every day. I had just learned my "something new": five minutes ticks by remarkably slowly at 4:17 in the morning.
When his five minutes were up (I had waited two eternities in the last minute and half, I was sure), I nudged him again.
"Come on, get up sleepy head," I said gently. "I'm going to get in trouble because of you."
He grumbled something under his breath, then said, "Okay, alright, I'm up."
There was a rather awkward moment when we both got up (I think I might have squished his arm on accident), but otherwise we made it out of the house without any trouble.
"I am so tired," Zack mumbled as we drove. His voice was low and husky, and, I couldn't help thinking, a little sexy at the moment. My breath caught in my throat.
"Me too," I replied, looking out the window. The drive would be pretty far – Galvest Street was on the other side of town from my house. "Thanks for driving me."
"Anytime," he said, his eyes of dark gold glancing at me. "I'm the one that owes you."
I shook my head. "I think we're pretty even," I said slowly. There was a short pause, then I asked timidly, "How do you feel… about Eva?"
He sighed. "Are you still mad at her?"
"Just a little pissed off," I said, knowing that he was avoiding the subject on purpose and feeling bad for bringing it up in the first place. I did want to know how much damage Eva had inflicted this time around, but took Zack's feelings into consideration at the moment too, and allowed him an easy route out of the topic. "She hasn't really been an ideal friend lately. We haven't had chances to talk."
"I see," he said softly. "Still busy with her siblings?"
"It's a little better now," I muttered. "They all have their own activities, and Tristan and Eva are holding up pretty well. Most of the Westleys can take care of themselves, anyway. I still go over maybe three to four times a week, but I don't stay for the whole afternoon."
"I always thought that it was really good of you to help them out," Zack said. "I'm not sure I would have offered them so much of my time had I been in your position."
I shrugged. "Sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the ones you love."
He tilted his head thoughtfully but said nothing. "Let's listen to the radio," he said after a moment. He turned it on and allowed me flip channels. Light rock – pop – rap (what station plays rap at four in the morning?) – classical – heavy metal – mix. I stopped on a jazz station.
"You like this?" he asked, looking at me curiously.
I flushed, embarrassed. "Well, yea," I said defensively. "It's relaxing. And it's neat listening to how they can improvise so quickly…" I trailed off.
"I know what you mean, I think," Zack said.
"Do you play any instruments?"
He shifted uncomfortably. "Lots," he finally replied.
"Really?" I said, my eyes widening. "Piano?"
"Piano," he said. "Violin and viola. Cello. Double bass if called to on occasion."
"What else?" I asked, amazed. I was pretty sure that was just the beginning.
He looked at me sideways. "I'm sure you don't want to hear about all the instruments I can play," he said.
"I'm sure I do," I said.
He sighed. "Fine. Sax – all of them. Clarinet. Flute, but not often, and I've never tried piccolo."
"Percussion?" I asked. "Drums? Mallets? Xylophone? Timpani? Glockenspiel?"
He nodded. "And I can play set too."
"Nice," I said. "Trumpet?"
"Yea," he said resignedly, realizing I wasn't about to give this up easily. "Guitar too. Acoustic and electric. And bass."
"Oboe? Bassoon? French horn? Trombone? Tuba?" I rattled them off.
He seemed impressed. "You seem to know your symphony orchestra pretty well," he said mildly.
"You seem to know most of the instruments," I replied.
"Yes to all of the above except for French horn. I tried once. Too hard," he said. "And no harp or contrabassoon."
"Did your parents make you take lessons for all those instruments?" I asked, already anticipating the answer.
"Yes."
"Will you play for me sometime?" I requested.
Zack shook his head.
"Oh come on," I said. "Please? You must be really good at all of them. Musical prodigy, probably."
He laughed. "Far from it," he said.
"I knew you had lots of hidden talents," I said matter-of-factly, settling back in my seat.
"Right," he said, eye brows raised. "Hidden talents."
~*~*~*~
Chapter Fourteen: Little Changes
Winter
"Will you come with me next Sunday? To the airport."
"If you want me there, I'll come with you," I said simply.
Zack gave me one of his half-smiles. We were sitting outside, eating our lunches on the lonely bleachers all the way at the opposite end of the football field from where the jocks chose to spend their lunch hour. They were there now, most of the football team, and a few basketball players. I could spot Martin and Tristan easily.
I was pulled out of my thoughts when Zack asked me, "Did Eva say anything to you this morning?"
I glanced at him but didn't answer right away, buying time by pulling a piece of lettuce out of my sandwich and sticking it in my mouth. I had seen Eva once this morning. It didn't seem like she had been trying to catch my attention or apologize, so I ignored her. It was alright though. I had figured that this would happen. If you think
I'm
proud at times, you have yet to see Eva's pride in action. It didn't matter if she realized she owed me an apology or not – either way, she wouldn't approach me until I made things easier for her to accept.
"No," I finally said after I swallowed. "I didn't."
"I'm sure she'd like to apologize," he said as carefully as he could through a mouthful of apple.
"I think she owes you an apology more than she owes me one," I muttered. "We're friends. We'll get over it."
~
Zack~
I stayed silent. Eva was still a topic fresh in both of our minds, though not a pleasant one.
I looked sideways at my lunch companion of the day. If you had told me a month ago that one day I would be sitting with Winter Bruin at lunch, I would have deemed you crazy – she probably would have preferred gutting me and watching as my entrails oozed out, Dark Ages style. Now I don't remember why the notion seemed so absurd in the first place. She seemed a little moody today, but had agreed to my request that she come with me when I went to pick up my parental units.
Half-way through November, the northern coastal winds of California were definitely picking up. We were sitting next to each other with our backs to the wind, letting our jackets take the brunt of the cold. Winter's hair was down today, and wisps of it were constantly being picked up by the wind. Once in a while, she would turn around to face the wind, frustrated, and sweep her hair back so it wouldn't get in her face. She did so now, and I chuckled.
"What?" she asked me defiantly, twisting her hair up in a bun but promptly letting it go in defeat anyway. "Stupid wind keeps getting my hair all over the place."
"You should just leave it alone," I said. "You look like you're in a music video or something."
Suddenly Winter grinned. "Like how they always blow wind in their faces as they sing so their hair will do sexy stuff?"
I laughed. "Exactly," I said.
"But it's bothersome," she frowned, and tied it up. I was a little disappointed at this, but was rewarded again when the wind picked up wisps of her messy bun too.
I laughed at her exasperated face. "Just leave it alone," I repeated, and reached over to tuck a stray piece of her hair behind her ear. I allowed my fingertips to gently trace the curve of her small ear, and settle behind the corner of her jaw. When she turned her dark eyes on me, I removed my hand almost immediately, suddenly feeling very hot where I was. I flushed, and turned so she couldn't see. Being around Winter confused me sometimes – she made my body do odd things that seemed out of place in our platonic friendship. Now, I may be new to the whole friendship thing, but I've got enough sense in my head to know it's not too great to be feeling these things around your ex's best friend.
"Anyway, are you going to pick me up on Sunday?" she asked, her voice breaking the silence.