Intertwined

Twenty Three

Cassidy

I woke up to the sweet smell of eggs and bacon in the kitchen, and the worst headache imaginable. Last night was a hazy blur of events as I managed to piece the grainy photographs together in my mind, and slowly everything came to fruition. Between the drunk karaoke and the multiple tequila shots, there were confessions made and words left unsaid.

As I sat up on the couch and gazed around the familiar living room, my brother kneeled closer to me with a concoction of sorts in a glass. He smiled, "You're finally awake, Cassie. I thought I was going to have to call an ambulance, after the night you had."

Beckett thrust the glass into my hands and I asked, "What happened last night?"

"As the older brother, I should be the one asking that," Beckett answered with his hands on his hips, like a stern father. "All I know is that you, Avery, Houston, and Houston's brother came home blasted drunk at four in the morning. Thankfully, Mom and Dad didn't wake up."

Avoiding his question, I sipped on the hangover cure Beckett forced me to drink:  a concoction of cranberry juice, vitamins, and my brother's protein powder. I would rather suffer with a hangover again than drink whatever Beckett swears by when he's hungover.

"Cassie, you still haven't answered my question," Beckett said again, leaning against the back door as I searched the room for the one guy I wanted to fix everything with. "What happened last night that I don't know about?"

I shrugged my shoulders, setting the glass on the coffee table and noticing my best friend sleeping on the couch opposite from me. "Nothing eventful happened. We celebrated Avery's birthday, Josh didn't give a shit to show up, and we all hung out together."

"Why was Houston at the party?"

Finally, I was tired of my brother's accusatorial questions and stood up from the couch. "Is this an investigation for you to feed all the information I give you back to Mom and Dad? Houston-"

I stopped myself from uttering his name as I walked into the kitchen, spying the same man who confessed those three words hours before. His light brunette curls were pushed up in every direction as he anxiously ran his hands through his hair, his stubbled jaw clenched tightly and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. Underneath the dark sunglasses he wore, his dark blue eyes were ringed with dark circles and he finally noticed my gaze.

Houston dropped the cup of coffee, the black liquid splashing up and spilling onto the table. He muttered anger hinting in his tone, "I'm leaving."

He wiped his face with the napkin and threw it onto the plate, then pushed past me to cross the threshold of the kitchen. He never said a word to me, and I was left fixing my gaze on his retreating back. This one time I wished Houston wasn't so stubborn or set in his ways.

Beckett uttered a whisper with a playful smile, "That was just awkward."

I spun on my heels and sauntered through the house, finally catching up to Houston who was getting into his truck. Maybe I was still drunk from the night before, or maybe I was just stupid. I needed answers to why Houston said it.

I spat the words at his beautiful face, "What is your problem, Houston?"

He paused and then got out of his truck, "What are you talking about, Mitchell?"

"I'm talking about you. You're my problem, Ford," I shouted, scaring off the birds and cattle with my shrill voice. "You told me you loved me, and then you, not only, take it back but treat me like I'm invisible."

"You left me standing!" Houston was one step away from me and I had to look up at his face, his dark blue eyes ablaze with heat and anger. "Mitchell, you never said anything back!"