Chapter 45 Chapter Forty-Two
Demi's Point Of View
I didn't come over to Chris's place with any particular plan in mind.
That should've been my first clue that the afternoon was going to stretch and yawn and sprawl in weird, lazy ways, like a cat in a sunbeam that refuses to move even when you nudge it with your foot.
Chris's room had that familiar, half-lived-in look it always did.
Not messy, exactly, just... comfortably chaotic.
A hoodie draped over the arm of the couch like it had given up halfway through being folded-proof that his parents were away for the weekend-.
A stack of game cases on the coffee table, some neatly piled, some leaning like they were considering escape.
The faint smell of popcorn from earlier, mixed with that permanent background scent of lavender.
The blinds were half-open, letting in a muted gray light that made it feel later than it actually was.
I flopped onto the couch without thinking, the cushions sighing under me like they were used to this routine.
Chris stayed standing for a second, scrolling on his phone, his brow furrowed in that way he gets when he's not really reading anything but also doesn't want to admit he's bored.
"Your couch is trying to eat me Chris" I said, shifting as one of the cushions swallowed my leg at a weird angle.
Chris snorted as he side eyed me. "You say that every time"
"Because every time it's true," I said. "One day I'm just not going to come back up."
He tossed his phone onto the armchair and finally sat down at the other end of the couch, stretching his legs out until his socked feet nudged mine. We both paused for a second, then he pushed my foot away with his.
"Personal space" he said pretending to be annoyed with me.
"You literally invited me over" I replied.
"Yeah, but not to touch feet. That's gross"
I kicked him lightly anyway, more out of habit than spite. He didn't kick back, which told me a lot about his current energy level.
We sat there for a bit, the TV off, the room filled with that strange, heavy quiet that only happens when you're with someone you know well enough not to force conversation but not inspired enough to start one either.
I looked out from his room window and saw a car drove past, tires hissing on the road.
I then heard something clicked, probably the fridge in his room doing fridge things.
I leaned my head back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. There was a tiny crack near the corner of his room shaped vaguely like a lightning bolt.
I'd noticed it before. I wondered how long it had been there, and whether Chris and his brother-who he shared the room with before- had ever argued about fixing it.
"This is... kind of boring" I said eventually.
Chris let out a slow breath. "Yeah"
We let the word hang between us. It didn't feel dramatic. Just honest.
"I mean" I added, "I'm not saying hanging out with you is boring. I'm saying the... activity level is low."
"Oh, thank you for clarifying," he said dryly. "I was about to take that personally for the rest of my life."
"You would" I said, he really would. One thing I had learnt about Chris in our four years friendship was that he was petty as fuck.
He shrugged. "Fair."
I sat up and leaned forward, elbows on my knees, scanning the room like something exciting might materialize if I looked hard enough.
The game console sat under the TV, silent and accusing. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. Whatever it was, it probably wasn't going to save the afternoon.
"What do you want to do?" I asked.
Chris tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling too, like he was hoping the answer was written up there.
"I don't know. Everything sounds like too much effort."
"Wow," I said. "We're really living on the edge today."
"Hey," he said, "doing nothing is a skill."
"Yeah, but we're bad at it," I replied. "We're bored."
He sighed. "True."
Another stretch of silence followed, thicker this time. I could feel my legs starting to jitter, restless energy with nowhere to go.
I hated that feeling, like my brain was tapping its fingers on a desk, waiting for something to happen.
I stood up abruptly. "Okay. We need to do something."
Chris raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"
I gestured vaguely at the room. "I don't know, something? Anything."
He looked around too, mirroring my earlier scan, then his gaze landed on the TV. His expression shifted, not excitement, exactly, but the first spark of an idea.
"We could watch a movie," he said.