What Lies Beneath

Nine

A weather segment played from the living room TV, low in the background, while heavy rain echoed around the house. My eyes were glued to the window closest to the front door, as I stared at the dark gray concrete that'd been soaking up the sky's waste.

"We'll be expecting some more heavy rain today and tomorrow. Then next week, we'll have some beautiful, clear weather all week. It's finally beginning to look like April, I'll tell you that much!" I listened as the meteorologist gave his forecast for the rest of the weekend.

"As if today needed another reason to suck," I mumbled, and picked at the window sill, scraping off chipped paint from the edge; its white residue got caught in between my skin and my fingernails.

Today was supposed to be a good day. Well, I hoped it was. I had the house to myself. My mother had gone food shopping as she did every few Saturdays of the month. And Junior had been staying at a friend's house for the weekend. But it had been raining since I woke up this morning. Apparently, it wasn't going to stop either. So, I was left to my own devices: Boredom.

I admit, watching cars speed through the massive puddle in the middle of the road became entertaining after a while. Maybe a little relaxing too. There was even a car passing through now. Except it was slowing down near our driveway. Oh. It was turning into our driveway. No, that wasn't just any car—I knew that car. Christian? What the hell was he doing here?

He parked but he didn't get out like I thought he would.

Rather, he sat there, unaware of my watchful gaze, peering at him through the window while he messed with his phone. Less than five seconds later, a loud, obnoxious beeping cut through the silence; that I soon realized was my phone ringing from its spot on the couch. The deafening noise caused me to jump up and spin around on the tips of my toes. From where I stood, I could see Christian's caller ID flashing bright across the screen.

Crap. My first instinct was to dive towards the couch. When I grabbed my phone, it fumbled in my hands, causing me to cuss under my breath. I seethed and sank to the floor, smashing my thumb into the answer button.

"Christian! Hey, what's going on?" I asked, breathless.

"Tyler, are you okay? Why do you sound like that?" His voice dripped with concern.

"Sound like what? I'm fine. This is my voice. Why would anything be wrong?" I rushed out.

There was a moment of silence; as though Christian was thinking over his response. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Right. . . So, um, anyways. Are you busy today?"

"Uh, not really. Why?"

"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite to eat with me. . ." he trailed off. Did I have anything better to do? Not really. I couldn't have been any less busy. And while staying in the house may have seemed like the better option, food sounded more appealing.

I shrugged, though he couldn't see it. "Okay, sure. Give me a few minutes to get dressed."

* * *

A few minutes turned into thirty. But that gave me enough time to properly wash up, afterwards throwing on some black jeans, a simple white t-shirt, and my go-to gray pull-over hoodie. Christian had the radio cranked up to seven as he cruised down the wet streets; it was drizzling now but the rain still pitter-pattered along his car.

"So. . . Where are we going to eat?" I eyed him from my peripheral view.

Christian quickly shot me a glance, then looked back at the road. "I was thinking we could stop by a diner and get some breakfast like the good old days. . . Breakfast for lunch used to be our thing, you know? . . .Why? Do you have somewhere in mind?"