Coming Up For Air | ✓

22 | we

"It's about time you picked up," Faye says in lieu of a greeting as Stella makes her way up the slight slope of the lawn, the grass dewy underneath her feet. 

  A stray warm morning breeze whirls past, bringing out a whiny whistle from the rotary drying rack as it moves with the wind. Stella's shirt flutters lightly against her skin. 

  "I was beginning to think you're avoiding me."

A wave of guilt washes over Stella as she steps into the kitchen, curling into a knot at the base of her stomach.

"Me?" She asks through a rather forced, airy laugh. Picking up her cup where she's left it next to the coffeemaker, she leans back against the kitchen counter. "I would never."

A pause; silence wraps around the kitchen, weaving its way through the lingering scent of coffee beans. A car blaring its horn cuts through the call. Followed by another. And then another. Like a trail of dominoes.

"You're lying."

Shit.

Stella clears her throat. "No I'm not," She sips her coffee—slowly, carefully. "We've been busy, is all."

"We?" Faye asks, and just from her tone Stella can imagine the deep notch between her sister's brows—heels of her pumps digging grooves into the pavement as she's halted in her tracks in the middle of the sidewalk at rush hour. "Who's we?"

"Jake and I," Stella says, rolling her eyes at herself as a small smile curls on her lips simply from speaking his name. "You remember Jake right? About this tall?" She motions with her hand even though her sister can't see her, a splash of coffee escaping over the rim of the cup. Holding back a sigh, she bends to wipe it off the floors. "Your best friend or whatever?"

"I remember Jake," Faye says dryly. "I just thought–"

Cutting herself short, Faye pants into Stella's ear as she rambles off a rather creatively strung together sentence of colorful curse words.

Straightening up, Stella leaves her coffee cup be and frowns. "What just happened?"

"You don't want to know."

"Did a bird poop on you?"

"No."

"Did you step in puke again?"

Just the thought has her grimacing, a faint taste of bile creeping up her throat.

"Only nearly. Oh, and as I salvaged my shoes from someone's intestines–" Faye pauses as the bustle of the city streets fade into a quiet calm, her voice picking up a lighter tone as she greets someone on her end. The sound of elevator doors sliding shut follows. "I spilled coffee all over my blouse. This is great, just great."

Stella's eyes flicker sideways as the front door's swung open, revealing Jake with an embrace of grocery bags on the threshold. Phone pressed between her shoulder and ear, she lifts her finger to her lips in a hushing motion and walks over to relieve him off one. To Faye, she says, "Rather coffee than intestines."

Jake's lips twitch up in confused amusement and Stella shakes her head with a small smile, cheeks flushed with faint warmth. Mouthing a "Hi" she slouches over the kitchen island, elbows propped up on the wooden counter.

Faye snorts. "They should put that on a tote-bag," She says. Then, "We were talking about something. What were we talking about? Oh! I thought Jake decided to stay in Acebridge?"

"He did," Stella tips her cheek into her palm, eyes lazily lingering on Jake as he unpacks the groceries. Catching her gaze, his cheeks tighten with a smile—those quite-not-dimples-dimples flashed her way. "But he came back."