Alright, guys. I'm back with an actual one-shot. No; not a not-so-one-shot-one-shot. A one shot. One chapter. That's all :D
I was lying in my bed last night when this idea just kind of popped into my mind. Even though it was midnight and I had to be up by 6 AM the following morning, I got up, journeyed to my laptop, and began jotting this down. I finished it today after school, so please excuse any errors. I read over it, but I tried to get it out as quickly as I could. It's basically just fluff. Not much of a plot line, but I tried.
Hope you like it :D And here goes.
"You're boring, Kate."
He waited for a response, but the only noise in the room was the sound of my fingers clicking against the keyboard.
"You're boring, Kate," he repeated.
Click. Click. Click.
"Did you hear me, Katelyn? I said you're-"
"I heard you loud and clear, Zack." I said, cutting him off. "And I may be boring, but you're annoying. So shut your trap and let me finish this paper."
He "hmphed" loudly. Even though I was facing my computer screen, I knew that he had crossed his arms over his chest childishly. "Testy, I see."
Zack and I had been friends for almost seven years now. He refused to refer to me as his "best friend," but we both knew it was true. He spent just about every waking moment at my house. Hell, he just about spent every unconscious moment at my house, too. My mom had long since stopped caring when he passed out on our couch for the night. She had gotten used to him, as had I.
I told him that I only kept him around for his food. The guy was an unbelievable cook. If he woke up before I did on a Saturday morning, I'd find pancakes and bacon waiting for me in the kitchen. When my mom went out for the night, Zack and I would take it upon ourselves to cook dinner. Well… Actually, it always turned out that I'd do something wrong, Zack would yell at me, and I'd end up setting the table instead of helping with the food. But that was alright; I got to eat it just the same.
As much as I'd convinced him I dealt with him for his culinary skills, in all reality, I considered him my best friend, too.
See, my mom was best friends with Zack's Aunt Cindy. Zack never really had a stable family life. His parents had a really messy divorce sometime around when Zack was ten years old, and he had been forced to live with his aunt for a year or two while the details were sorted out. Since Cindy was basically always with my mother, Zack and I spent most of our time together. Eventually, Zack moved back in with his dad, but we still couldn't get rid of him. He was like a bad insect infestation. I was stuck with him.
In a pathetic attempt to annoy me, I heard the volume on the TV steadily moving up until the sound was blaring through the speakers. I ignored him, however, keeping my eyes glued to my essay on the Italian Renaissance.
Finally, with a small sigh escaping his mouth, Zack realized he couldn't infuriate me from over there on the couch. He stood up and sauntered over, only pausing when he was standing directly behind me. I could feel him breathing down my neck, reading over my shoulder.
"Renaissance," he read in a matter-of-fact tone, "means 'rebirth.' Italy's priorities and beliefs were 'reborn' during the Renaissance, as art, literature, and science were based around humanism rather than religion and-"
"Zack! Go away!" I yelled, minimizing the document. Spinning around in my computer chair, I faced him and crossed my arms stubbornly. He smirked, making my annoyed expression soften a little. His adorable smirk was one of the things that kept me from going absolutely berserk on him sometimes.
"Time for a break?" he asked, his smile widening. "You seem a little tense."
"No," I declared, twisting back around to face my laptop. "Time to finish this assignment." Just as I put my hands on the keyboard again, Zack grabbed the back of my computer chair and I began to roll backwards.
"Time for a break," he decided.
Before I was too far away, I was able to reach out and grab my laptop from the desk. Zack, however, calmly walked around me, took my computer from my hands, and placed it back on the surface, as if he were taking something fragile away from a toddler. He then proceeded to roll me backwards, away from my paper and towards the television.
"To the left you'll see the closet door. Made of hardwood, I'm guessing. Quite nice, if I do say so myself. On your right you'll see the Finnegan's iguana named Tomato. Please keep your hands inside the vehicle, folks; he's a vicious one."
I sighed and stared helplessly at my computer, which was slowly getting smaller as I rolled farther away. "He moves roughly a mile an hour, not to mention he's in a glass cage."
Zack ignored my unamused tone. "We're now swiftly approaching the sofa. Everyone off the tour-bus, folks. This will be our last stop."
My best friend finally dropped the whole tour-guide façade and plopped himself down on the couch. "C'mon, Kate," he said, already staring at the screen. "Come be lazy with me."
As he gazed past me absentmindedly, my eyes landed on him.
Zack's semi-short brown hair was sticking up all over the place. I don't think he'd ever brushed it a day in his life, but it still always looked good. Curse people with naturally straight hair.
He wore a green t-shirt with a few white stripes going across it. His jeans were casual, and he had long since thrown off his shoes by my doorway. Zack was a really informal kid. He barely ever dressed up for anything.
Still, though, it was hard to resist his cuteness. I knew it, and he knew it. Which really sucked.
I finally gave in and stood up from the computer chair, pushing it out of the way with my foot as I collapsed next to him on my sofa. "That's my girl," he mumbled, smirking slightly.
"Pffft. Your girl." I rolled my eyes. "Let me tell you, Zack Myers. I don't do anything because you tell me to. It just so happens that I have a headache, and I wanted to take a break."
He cocked an eyebrow. "Right. Which explains the, 'No, time to finish this assignment,' and the having to pry the laptop from your hands." I didn't appreciate Zack's sarcastic tone.
"Oh, whatever," I murmured. "You're such a pain in my ass."
Zack grinned as he punched me playfully on the shoulder. "You love me."
Again, I rolled my eyes, but I didn't bother to retort on that one. Instead, I changed the subject. "What are we watching, anyway?" I asked, finally having brought my attention over to the television screen.
A woman wearing a painfully bright purple apron and an overjoyed smile was equipped with one of those giant wooden spoons. She was stirring some kind of sauce in a metal pot. She spoke into the camera (creepy smile never ceasing) as she talked the audience through the recipe.
"This is crap," I said, reaching for the remote. "I'm changing it."
"No!" Zack caught my wrist, stopping me. "I'm learning how to make Penne Ala Vodka." He beamed annoyingly at me, knowing fully well that he was getting on my nerves.
When my hand was still for a few seconds, he let go of my wrist. I made yet another lunge for the remote.
This time, however, he caught my hand in his. Zack laced our fingers together and anchored our hands between us on the couch so I couldn't attempt it again. Then, with his free hand, he picked up the remote and moved it to his lap.
I sighed overdramatically, giving up. I slumped down and, disgruntled, turned to face the television show. Zack only tightened his grip on my hand.
Shifting around, I tried to find a comfortable spot on the couch. It was no use, though. My living room was hot as hell, and the material of the sofa was not making the situation any better.
Summer hadn't officially started, but it had been roughly 90 degrees for the past week. My family only had one 20-something-year-old air conditioner (barely suitable for a heat wave like this), and it was on the second floor. It did little to cool the house. Even at 11 o'clock on this Saturday night, the air was heavy and humid. This kind of weather only made us students even more eager to get out of school, but we still had a week and a half left.
Which reminded me. I glanced over at the computer screen. I still had so much work to do. My essay wasn't even half done, and then I'd have to write the works cited and make a cover page, not to mention edit over everything to make sure it was grammatically correct, spelled right, and—
"Hey… Relax," Zack murmured, practically reading my mind. He reached up and tucked my unruly bangs behind my ear. "You'll have time to finish it. You've got all of tomorrow, remember?"
"No, I don't. Tomorrow I've got to do my French project on the Magdalen Islands which is due-"
Zack's hand went up to cover my mouth. "Shh," he demanded. He waited until I finally stopped mumbling incoherently against his palm.
"Now, when I take my hand away, you are going to be quiet. You are going to be quiet, and you are going to chill. The hell. Out."
I inhaled and rolled my eyes, but nodded all the same. Slowly, Zack's hand came away from my mouth.
Just as he had told me, I didn't say anything else. So why was my best friend still staring at me straight-on?
I brought my gaze up to meet his. Almost curiously, his eyes scanned over my face. Zack unsurely placed his hand on my upper arm, sending Goosebumps down my skin even despite the extreme heat.
I'm not sure which one of us moved towards the other. Maybe it was both, but either way, we ended up with our faces only inches apart.
At the same time, however, Zack and I both looked up again. Our gazes met once more and we pulled back simultaneously.
The two of us faced directly forward. I was pointed at the television screen, but my eyes were roaming nervously all over the room. My hands were folded in my lap. Zack's were picking at the hem of his shirt as he pulled at an invisible loose thread.
"Me, too." The words were barely out of my mouth before Zack agreed.
"Maybe I'll get some sleep," I murmured, quickly getting to my feet. "You know. Get up early tomorrow. Finish the essay then."
I cleared my throat and nodded, moving swiftly across the room. I grabbed a blanket that had been draped across the old rocking chair in the corner. "Here," I said, reaching out to hand it to Zack. I avoided his gaze at all cost. "Incase you get cold. I doubt you will, but…"
"Yeah... Yeah, okay. Thanks." He took the blanket and placed it off to the side of the couch.
He clicked off the television. "Night," I said, forcing my voice to sound normal as I shut off the lights and left the living room.
I stared absentmindedly at my reflection in the mirror as I brushed the annoying curls in my hair. I could hear Zack directly below me. The faucet was on. He was probably brushing his teeth in the guest bathroom, as I had just done in the upstairs bathroom.
My house was dead silent. I listened carefully to every movement he made. I could hear his feet creaking on the wood and the shuffling of material as he lied down on the couch once more.
This was unbelievably weird. I'd never paid any attention to Zack before. It had never made me nervous that he was directly below my room. Actually, I usually forgot that he was sleeping at my house. I'd just grown so used to his presence.
I couldn't understand why I was becoming apprehensive now, after all this time.
Crawling into bed, I pulled the sheets over me and turned to my side. I stared at my turquoise wallpaper for a good forty minutes before I rolled over, changing sides again.
For a while, I heard the soft hum of voices on the TV. Zack must've had trouble sleeping and turned it back on. Shortly after, though, it was shut off again. My living room grew quiet, and I assumed he was asleep.
Despite the anxious butterflies in the pit of my stomach, I readjusted my sleeping position (for the third time) and finally started to drift off.
I heard the door creak open, but in my light sleep, it was registered as part of my dream. I only fully awoke when I felt the side of my bed sink down. Still, I didn't open my eyes.
I knew it was Zack. It had to be. My mother, knowing that I was an extremely light sleeper, always went straight into her room after she came home from work.
Carefully, I opened my eyes just enough so I could see what he was doing. Zack wasn't doing anything, really. His dark silhouette was just sitting on the edge of my bed, facing away from me. I could tell he was troubled by the way his head hung slightly.
Just as he twisted around, I shut my eyes tightly. I felt his hand graze my cheek a few times, pushing the strands of hair off of my face. "Kate," he murmured, so low that I barely even heard it.
He jumped slightly, not having expected an answer. A tiny smirk crept its way up to my face. "I'm a light sleeper… You knew that."
For a split second, Zack matched my smile, but all trace of amusement in his expression was gone again in no time.
"I'm sorry, Kate… I'm sorry about before," he whispered.
"You should be."
He nodded. "I shouldn't have almost kissed you."
"You're right. You shouldn't have almost kissed me."
Zack met my stare again. His green eyes were filled with hurt and rejection. Finally, he turned away, nodding in agreement. As he stood up from the end of my bed and went to leave, I sat up and grabbed his hand.
"You should've just kissed me."
At first, Zack looked shocked. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. He searched my face, expecting me to be kidding, but I wasn't. I shot my best friend a reassuring smile.
Eventually, a contagious grin spread across his mouth. He leaned down and pressed his lips against mine, forcing my face to go bright red. Even so, I kissed back.
As I stepped out of the shower and changed into my clothes the following morning, I could hear the sounds of sizzling pans and running water. Zack was already on breakfast.
I couldn't help but be a little apprehensive after last night's happenings. After the kiss broke, Zack and I had barely exchanged anything more than a quick "good night" before he disappeared downstairs again.
However, when I got to the bottom of the stairs, Zack looked up from the stove and shot me the stupidest, most reassuring grin that I had ever seen on his adorable face.
Granted, I had nothing to worry about. I was greeted that morning with a kiss on the cheek and some heart-shaped pancakes.
Maybe I'd just ask for an extension on that paper.
So, yeah. Pretty much just extreme fluff, but it was fun to write, I guess. Feedback would be greatly appreciated :D