"Best Friends"

Chapter Four

Weeks pass and I very intentionally don’t let myself be alone with Clark. Even when we are near each other I have to keep myself from looking at him. There’s the normal banter and playful sarcasm, the normal things we’ve done for years, but nothing more. I’m too nervous, honestly, not sure what might have happened on my birthday.

Sometimes it feels like my romantic heart paints a picture that isn’t there – rose colored glasses and all that. But sometimes it seems like Clark might actually have some sort of infatuation for me. I don’t know what to do. Even worst, I feel lost with having no one to talk to about it.

Lying in bed with Hades, I move around the pink Pusheen I call Purrsephone and get him to chase her around the blanket. He meows and reaches for her without claws and then finally bits on to her (the way a parent cat would for a baby) and carries her off to the end of my bed.

Home on a Friday night?

You betcha.

Not even coming over to see Jonah?

Nah.

What’s wrong?

Nothing.

Candice….

Clark?

Roof in fifteen?

Fine.

F-i-n-e period.

I know he’d keep pressing me until I answered. I know he’d even have the nerve to call and wait in silence until I said something. And now, after a month and a half of avoidance, I am going to not just be alone with Clark, but in a very private and intimate space. But I also know, however, that I can easily avoid the subject of him – of him and me – of any feelings I may or may not have for him – ‘cause there is actually something pretty big weighing heavily on my chest. Much, much bigger and heavier than a couple pound wrinkle bean kitten.

Up on the rooftop, pretty cozy in my Slytherin Quidditch wool sweater, I hear the balcony door open and shut softly. Boots against wood and then Clark’s dirty blond hair appears, dancing in the wind.

“I hope it doesn’t start snowing again.”

I shrug, “We could always go inside if it did.”

Diving right in, he starts suggesting, “You could always pack a bag and bring Hades over and just spend the week at my house. Pops has the fire going and we’re pretty set in the game room for anyone who needs to escape from family.”

“Tempting.”

His hand falls on my shoulder. “Candice, come on. What’s wrong?”

I want to fall back, to lay against the roof, to look up into the stars. I want it to be just like my birthday, just how beautiful and perfect that had been. Our hands next to each other, almost together and then ‘I can’t be with or without you’... that had been the last line. That had been exactly how I felt, how I feel. But there’s snow and I could already feel the cold and wet seeping through the folded towel I’m sitting on. So, instead, I curl around my knees.

“You know how my parents are away this week?”

“Are they?”

“Yeah… the whole week. They left Thursday morning and won’t be back until after school next-next Monday.”

“That’s kind of shitty. Where did they go?”

Eyes closed, I turn my cheek against my knee, facing Clark. “Marriage counselling.”

“Oh Candice…,” his voice heavy. There’s a soft sound of him moving and I feel him lean me against his chest.

Before I can stop it, all the tears I’ve kept at bay start rolling down my cheeks. “Ever since your mom died, it’s been this huge strain on them, on my mom. Mom wants to move away – saying that we’d only picked this house because of her best friend. And she says it’s really hard to stay here and see your family, especially Jonah. She yells at my dad, like, ‘why does it matter if we stay or leave’ since he’s never around anyway. But my dad says he refuses to leave – to take me away from Jonah, and you, and school and everything. He says it’s not fair to me, but also not fair to you guys. She may have lost a best friend, but you guys lost a mother. I don’t know,” I cough a little. “It’s all f****d up. Mom says she wants to separate then… let her at least ‘get away and clear her head’.”

“Oh Candice…” I could feel his cheek against my hair. “I’m so sorry.”

Bawling now, I push myself back against his chest. “And I-I just feel like if I leave the house, g-go over-r to your place then it’s real-l. You know? That if I do anything… anything that’s moving-g f-forward then I have to accept th-hat Mom may come back only to leave. Or not even c-come b-ack at all!”

Clark’s arms are tight around me, his body rocking us softly. He lets me cry as long as I need; his presence, his actions speaking enough. When the crying finds its end, I can feel his fingers going through the ends of my hair. Exhausted, defeated, I sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Good God, what for, Candice?”

“That I’m a mess.” I whisper, the silence of the night making anything I say that much louder. “Like, really… with the Bi-Polar, now this. There’s actual stuff wrong with me.”

I can feel his head shake where is cheek is against my hair. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

*

“I don’t know,” she whispers helplessly. “It sure feels like it.”

I don’t say anything but squeeze her for a moment. Flashes of memories bounce across my mind of all the times I did research on depression and then what Bi-Polar Disorder actually is. I’d talked to teachers, the guidance counselor, Pops, a few different doctors…. Lots of research online from reliable resources. I did everything I could night after night to figure out what that all meant. Though Candice never said nor showed signs of being suicidal, I knew there had been times depression had started eating her alive. I also knew that environmental stressors like this could cause a downswing all on its own.

She gets frustrated any time I remind her of her medication, and I learned fast never to ask if she’s been responsible about taking them. I can’t imagine how hard it is to realize and accept that one – you have an incurable, chronic illness that is a lifetime of bull s**t, and two – that you now have to not only see doctors and therapists regularly, but take medication every single f*****g day for it.

But I know her. I trust her. She doesn’t just need to take her medication, she wants to.

Almost if she can read my mind she sighs. “My doctor upped my dosage by a half. It must be working, or whatever, ‘cause I still feel normal. She also gave me anti-anxiety meds…. So, like, if I start spiraling but can’t stop it, I can take up to two. I do not like the idea of needing medicine all the time – I mean, like, to feel what I think is normal. I can take my nightly s**t, fine. But I haven’t taken a single of the anti-anxiety.”

After a long silence I kiss her hair. “How about this?” I try slowly. “We get some of your stuff, we go back to my house, we pick out some movies for the game room, and you try one of the anti-anxiety pills? Just one. I’ll be right there, the whole time, making sure you’re okay, and tomorrow we can talk about if it helps or not.”

Like a little mouse she squeaks “What if it does help though?”

“That’s a good thing, Candice.”

“I don’t want to become reliant on it.”

I frown and press my cheek against her hair, the sweet smell of strawberry filling my nose. “How ‘bout… you tell me every time you take one? Would that work?”

There’s a little bob of her head, “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I know Candice, I know.”

She straightens a little, then slowly moves to get down to her room. As she packs a bag I notice her sweater, “You know… I finally took that test on Pottermore you’ve been bugging me about.”

A genuine smile appears, and she tucks some hair behind her ear, “And?”

I smirk. “Guess.”

Her eyes squint. “Mmm. Ravenclaw?”

“Nope.”

Her nose wrinkles slightly. “Not Gryffindor!”

“Nope.”

Candice tilts her head. “Hufflepuff?”

“Really?”

She shrugs. “Jonah’s a Hufflepuff! Things like that run in families.”

“Not this time.”

I can see her struggle not to smile, “Slytherin, then?”

Nodding, I do let myself smile. One hand lifts from my crossed arms and I point towards her, “Just like you.”

I know how seriously she takes things like this though and she crosses her arms under her chest and lips move into a purse. “You didn’t f**k around with it to get Slytherin did you? Not all Slytherins are bad….”

Launching off her door I walk over to her, towering over her. “You think I’m bad?”

“Well, no. But that’s an image I think you like to have.”

Looking into her eyes, my voice softens, “You’re not bad though.”

Even with the thick layer of wool, I see her chest move spastically. “I could be, you never know.”

There’s a boldness in her eyes, a fierceness in her expression. I wonder what exactly she’s thinking about that is getting her so flustered. “Show me.”

She stares me down, hands now firmly on her hips. I know exactly what do say to push her. “I dare you,” my voice low, ending in a smirk.

Since as long as can I remember, any time I dared her to do something, she did. Didn’t matter how afraid she was or how nervous – didn’t matter if it was swimming lessons and the water was freezing, didn’t matter if the ocean was too loud and the waves crashing, didn’t matter if it was eating new food or watching a stupid movie, if I said it, she did it. To her, it shows how strong she is and to her then she gets to hold something over my head. To me, I get another memory of her being adorable.

Chest un-moving, eyes firey with life, her expression full of determination, she points to the foot of her bed. “Sit.”

Cocking a brow, I look down at her with an expression ‘oh yeah?’ She doesn’t say anything, so I don’t either. I sit as far back as I can, the edge of the bed right at my knees. Putting my hands behind me, honestly having no idea what to expect, I look up at her carefully.

No closing her eyes, no long breath, no fluttering chest, no moment of preparation. She knows exactly what she’s doing, exactly what she wants. First her hand comes for my shoulder, then she slips either knee in the space between my hips and hands. Lowering into my lap, she moves both her palms to my neck, fingers knotting in my hair. My chin is moved slightly up and before I know it her lips are on mine. Slowly, carefully, sensually… my eyes close and I move forward, hands going for her waist.

She moves us into French-kissing as I get under her three layers to her skin. Her back is warm, soft, and I grip her hard. Heart pounding, losing breath, mind blank – consumed by the moment, I didn’t know it could be like this.

She moves back ever so slightly, teeth soft against my bottom lip, a little tug. Eyes closed, chin tilted up, I feel her lips brush mine in one kiss, then a second, a third. I feel her forehead against mine as I can’t seem to catch my breath or catch up with any of my senses. The tip of her nose brushes mine, I can feel her rushed and hot breath against my lips.

There’s a moment and right as I open my eyes to look at her, she moves her head to whisper in my ear. She says what she always says after winning the dare, a snarky little “See?” and starts to move away.