Rockstar Serenade: The Verse

Ch 33: You Don't Have To, She Knows

TREVOR~

She isn’t a pain to carry alright, in fact I’ve carried worse, but her squirming and wiggling makes it hard for me to travel on wheels. It takes an effort to balance on my skateboard. Thankfully, I’m running over flat and smooth ground. “Kailey, behave!”

“I don’t want to go to your house, gahdammit!”

“Where, then?” I ask. “You’re out of your mind if you think that you can get me to leave you here on the road with all your squirming!”

“Fine, I’ll tell people that you’re kidnapping me.”

“What? That’s ridicu—”

“Help!” she shrieks, cupping her mouth so that it would be louder. “Kidnapper and rapist!”

Calling me such things that I swear I would not become catches me off guard. Scared of what else she might shout, I immediately put her down, careful enough to still grasp her by her wrist. She grunts and scowls, trying to pull away from me. But I hold her firmly with no intention of letting her escape. Her stare hardens, as if she’s contemplating on whether or not to chew her arm off.

“No,” I say firmly, competing with the intensity of her stare. “Here.” I help her up my skateboard, making sure she’s got her foot positioned right. I mount on the same board, circling my arms around her waist. “Just don’t move a lot. You’ll fall.”

“I told you—”

“We’re going to my home.” I push onto the ground with one foot again, moving my hands up to lay it over her shoulders. “At least be cooperative for once.”

She sighs and gives in. Silence envelops us on our course home. I try looking at her but she always try to avoid eye contact. When we reach home, mom’s the only one I find inside. However, she’s too occupied with her coffee chat with one of her officemates in the living room that I barely introduced her to Kailey. I’m planning for us to just hang out in our living room but since that’s not possible now, I grab her arm and lead her upstairs to my bedroom.

My gut suddenly felt like it got twisted in so many ways deliberately. I have a few female friends, and none of them—definitely none of them has ever been to my room. And here I am, going to break that record.

“What the hell are you thinking?” Kailey asks as I unlock my bedroom door. “What the hell are you planning?”

“I don’t know where else I should take you.” I swallow the volleyball in my throat. “Just make yourself at  home.”

Upon opening the door, her eyes wander upon the interiors of my room. I suddenly feel conscious. The room is a mess—unfolded clothes on the bed, shorts hanging by the headboard and disordered books and manuals on the shelf. I thought she’d mention how untidy I am with my personal space, but she surprises me with, “Wow, you’re rich.”

“No,” I say. “Not really. If I keep my things away you’ll see that I have lesser stuff than you thought I have.” After kicking a basketball and have it rolling towards under my bed, I motion to her to come in.

She helps herself on my bed, lying on it while her legs hang freely. I see her rub her puffy eyes, much to my guilt, then blink rapidly at the ceiling. She remains like this for a few minutes, and so do I—just staring, watching, thinking.

“So, what are you planning to do now?” she says wearily, her expression blank and unfathomable. I would reply, nothing honestly, but that would just make me like a loser, a complete idiot. Dang, what’s wrong with me?