Chapter 33.

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When I rolled over, I realized that there was a crick in my neck and no pillow under my head. I frowned, my eyes still closed. I crumpled the blanket between my finger and buried my head in it and breathed in. A familiar scent infiltrated my nose and I opened my eyes. The blankets smelled like Parker. Soon, I sat up and all the memories of last night filtered into my brain.

*

"You know I know exactly how many stars are on that ceiling," Parker said, confidently, smiling up at the ceiling.

"You do not," I argued, also confident.

"I do," he insisted, slightly turning his head to face mine for second before he turned back to face the ceiling.

"How many?" I asked, challengingly.

"Forty-five," he said and began counting along the lines.

I waited silently as he counted all of the stars he had put on my ceiling so many years ago. He looked happy; he looked like he had left every little thing that was bothering him miles away and he was completely here with. His mind wasn't racing and thinking of a million things at once; he was wholly here, doing something as mundane as counting dusty stars on my ceiling.

"Forty, forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty .... four," his arm that he was holding up, pointing at each star, went limp and fell to his side, falling heavily on to the bed between us, "I know I put up forty-four stars, Alex. I'm positive. I wasn't very sure whether I could count well back then so I counted them about thrice. There's got to be one more. I'm going to count again."

"No," I laughed and grabbed the arm that he extended to the ceiling. I reached across the bed, under my pillow and pulled out on more star. "Forty-five." I held it up to Parker. He took it from my hand and turned it over in his own.

"Did you pull it off the ceiling?" he asked, widening his eyes.

I laughed. "No," I replied, "It fell off one day, a few years ago and I could didn't want to part with it because I love them and never actually put it back up because –,"

"Because you can't get two steps up a damn ladder," Parker chuckled, keeping his eyes trained on the star.

I shoved him and he chuckled some more.

He pushed himself to sit and then took off his shoes and socks and stood on my bed and reached the star up to the ceiling. He found the place it had fallen from and stuck it back on. Miraculously it stuck. Parker then plopped back down and laid down next to me to admire his handiwork.

"Tell me something," I said.

"Hmm?"

"Why forty-five?" I asked.

He turned his head to look at me. He smiled. "It's cheesy," he said, looking sheepish, "It's the addition of our birthdays. Fourteenth for me and thirty-first for you."

I breathed out a laugh, unable to say anything because of the breath constricting in my lungs. Parker had always been meaningful like that it had always overwhelmed me. "That is cheesy," I said, finally, making Parker chuckle.

We lapsed into silence.

"Why'd you keep the star?" Parker voiced, softly.

I sighed. "Because you put it up there," I confessed, "It was special to me. It's a reminder of a good time in life. And I love stars."

Parker nodded.

"Remember that time we started a water fight?" he asked.

I smiled. "Which time, Parker? There were so many."

He laughed. "The big one, I mean."

"Wait, was it the I was telling you a joke and you laughed so hard that juice came out of your nose?" I asked, laughing.

He turned slightly on to his side so that he was angled towards me, with an amused, yet indignant look on his face. "You told me, what I'm pretty sure was one of the lamest jokes ever."

I mirrored his position. "Do you even remember the joke?"

He smiled and shook his head. "No, but I'm pretty sure it was terrible. And I laughed so hard that juice spurted out of my nose and mouth and drenched you."

I laughed. "It was everywhere; I was wearing one of my favorite dresses and you got orange juice all over it and in my hair."

"And so, you chased me around my yard with my water gun until either you ran out of water or I tackled you to the ground," he cackled.

"I'm pretty sure it was both," I hardly managed to choke out because I was laughing.

"That was one of the most uncomfortable things ever. It was horrible. I'm pretty sure I cried orange juice tears that time," Parker grimaced.

And this conversation lead to so many memories recollected between the both of us. It was as easy as breathing, talking to him about everything we had been through as children; all the good times we had shared and all the things we'd done because of each other and how we had changes because of each other's influence. We talked into the night about the smallest things like how we had liked our pancakes to the big things like the times we sat in the tree house and watch the sun give way to the moon. It was like there was never a chasm between us and we had always been the way we were when we were kids. We never talked about the ugly parts because we both knew we needed to focus on the good; at least for tonight.

Somewhere during these memories, we had both fallen asleep on my bed, side by side.

*

I rubbed my eyes and my mind wandered to Blake. Immediately, my chest tightened and I realized that I needed to tell him what happened. Maybe he didn't need to hear it, but I needed to tell him because there's a million things that have gone on between me and Parker that I should have told him about, but never did, but this, I was pretty sure, I needed to tell him about.

I lifted myself off bed and went to the toilet to wash and change. I figured that Parker must have woken up and some time and gone home. I felt an odd sense of loneliness because I'd have thought that after the night we'd had, I at least deserved a note. Then I thought of what a couple like thing that was to do, so I shook it off.

I wandered downstairs and the moment my foot hit the ground landing, my nose filled with the wonderful smell of melted butter, bacon and eggs. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, wondering how long it had been since I had smelled all those things together, early on a Sunday morning. Immediately after I opened my eyes, the house seemed brighter and the world seemed happier.

The wonderful smells originated from the kitchen, where Parker had conquered and was now pouring a ladleful of pancake batter on to the griddle, humming to himself – something I was sure he hadn't done in a long time – with two plates lined up on the island counter, with a carton of orange juice and a pan of scrambled eggs and still sizzling bacon. Magnetically, I was drawn in; whether it was to the food or the person cooking it was unclear, but nevertheless, I found myself in the kitchen, standing across from Parker, smiling at him with a peaceful look on my face.

Looking up at me, a slow grin spread across his face.

"Morning, Sunshine," Parker said, chirpily. My mother had always called me that and he was the only one I had allowed to call me that after she died because he was the only one who could say it in the same comforting and loving manner.

"Morning," I said, sliding on to the stool in front of the bacon and picking a strip straight out of the pan. It was immediately taken out of my hand by Parker.

"Either water or juice first," he said.

I huffed and poured myself a glass of juice and downed it and then took my piece of bacon back. "What's all this?" I asked, gesturing to the massive amount of food Parker seemed to have produced in a pretty short amount of time.

"Breakfast," he quipped, "I was hungry and there was nothing at my place to eat. Oops. So, I decided that you needed breakfast, too. And it's mostly an apology." He glanced at me from underneath his eyelashes, before lifting his head to face me.

"An apology for what?" I asked.

"Being a jerk," he said, plainly, "I know that no amount of breakfast is going to make up for my douchebag like actions, but I'm hoping it's a start."

"It's wonderful," I told him and he smiled at me.

*

After a good breakfast which eventually spread into brunch making it impossible for me to eat any lunch, Parker took his leave to go do some grocery shopping and clean out his fridge, with a promise to return for dinner. That's also the time I took it upon myself to call Blake and ask him to meet me for a few minutes because I knew that after I procrastinated telling him about it once, I'll probably put it off forever.

I told him to meet me in the park a few blocks away from my house. I pulled on a coat and stepped outside into the late November chill. As I reached the park, I saw him there, sitting in the middle of the deserted playground on a bench, waiting for me. I approached him and sat down. He turned to me and smiled, pulled me closer and kissed the side of my head. I smiled back at him, unable to respond to his affection.

"What's up?" he asked, and then corrected himself, "Or what's down? You sounded a little upset on the phone."

"I know, Blake," I breathed.

"Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," I reassured his concerned gaze. I didn't have the heart to tell him, but I had to. "I just wanted to tell you something."

"Maybe you want to, but you don't need to," he told me.

I shook my head and looked ahead of me, instead of at him, because I didn't think I could bear to look at him right then. I didn't know why I was feeling so bad. It's not like I had cheated on him or anything, but it just felt so strange. Parker had kissed me twice while I was dating Blake and I had never really felt bad about not telling him because a – I was a horrible girlfriend and b – Parker had been drunk both times so I didn't feel like it was valid. However, this had happened when we were both awake and aware and sober.

"You need to know," I told him.

"OK," he sighed, "You can tell me when you're ready."

I let silence reign for a while, while we both sat there in the wind, me trying not to shiver even under my coat.

"Parker slept over last night."

The words hung in the air. Blake didn't say anything or even react in the slightest. It just seemed like he was waiting for me to say something else.

"Nothing happened," I assured him, turning to him, "Nothing happened between us. He just came over and we were talking, but we both fell asleep on my bed throughout the night."

It was some time before anything happened; Blake sighed.

"OK," he said, quietly.

"What?"

He turned to look at me. "OK." He gave me half a smile, which I half-heartedly returned.

"What do you mean OK?" I asked.

"I mean, I know that you two are friends and that you two must have things to talk about," he explained, "And it's OK that he fell asleep next to you as long as nothing happened."

"Nothing. I swear."

"And I believe you, Alex," he said, a strange looking crossing his eyes, "And it's OK. It's fine."

"Fine."

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