Annie shook her head, tucking a stray lock of black hair behind her ear. The sting of Kyson's words was still too fresh, too ugly to repeat. If she told Ethan that his best friend suspected them of... that, she wasn't sure what would happen. Ethan's temper was a slow-burning fuse, and the last thing she wanted was to be the reason he lost his closest friend.
"It's nothing, Ethan. Really," she said, her voice a bit too thin to be convincing. "Just family stuff. You know how it is. My dad's tired, Margaret's... Margaret. I don't want to talk about it."
Ethan's jaw tightened. He clearly didn't believe her- he knew the shadows under her eyes too well, but he respected her enough to drop the subject. He saw the way she was picking at the hem of her sleeve and knew she needed a way out of her own head.
"Fair enough," he said softly, his expression shifting into something gentler, more focused. "In that case, I think you owe me. I sat through a two-hour lecture on engine displacement today, and I need something that doesn't smell like grease."
He leaned back against his window frame, nodding toward the nightstand behind her. "Get the book, Annie. It's my turn to listen."
Annie felt the tension in her shoulders drop an inch. Their nightly routine had become her lifeline. Since her mother passed, she'd struggled to speak her own feelings, but reading the words of others felt like a safe bridge. And what a good way to read the poetry book her mother left her, than in the safe presence of Ethan.
She reached back and grabbed the weathered, leather-bound anthology of poetry she kept by her pillow. She settled onto her own windowsill, her knees tucked to her chest, the patchwork dress blooming around her like a garden in the moonlight.
"Where did we leave off?" she asked, her voice finally steadying.
"Page ten," Ethan said immediately, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "The one about the stars being old memories. It reminded me of you."
Annie blushed, flipping through the cream-colored pages until she found the poem. As she began to read, her soft, melodic voice drifted across the narrow gap between their lives. Ethan closed his eyes, his head resting against the glass, listening to her with a devotion that proved Kyson wrong without him having to say a single word.
Annie took a breath, the scent of the old paper mingling with the cool night air. She traced the ink of the poem her mother had underlined years ago, and began to read softly:
The Quiet Constellation
There are stars we see that died a thousand years ago,
Yet their light still finds us, steady and slow.
Like a hand in the dark, or a voice in the hall,
A promise that lingers, though the seasons may fall.
It is not the fire that burns through the night,
But the soft, silver glow of a gentler light.
It is patience in silence, the strength to just stay,
When the world is too loud and the sun turns to gray.
To love is a mountain, to climb and to fear,
But to care is the valley, always right here.
A bridge made of whispers, a debt without gold,
The greatest of stories that needn't be told.
As the last word trailed off, the only sound was the distant hum of a cricket in the yard below. Annie looked up, her fingers still resting on the page.
Ethan hadn't opened his eyes yet. He looked uncharacteristically peaceful, the moonlight catching the edge of his leather jacket and the sharp line of his jaw. When he finally looked at her, the usual flirtatious spark was gone, replaced by something much deeper- a quiet, fierce loyalty that made her breath hitch.
"The light that finds us in the dark," Ethan repeated quietly, his voice like velvet. He reached out, his fingers grazing the wood of his window frame. "That's a good one, Annie."
He lingered for a moment, his gaze dropping to her lips before he caught himself and moved his eyes back to hers, honoring the boundary she hadn't even had to voice. "Get some sleep, Doll. I'll be out front at 7:30 sharp tomorrow. Don't make me honk, your dad's a doctor, he needs his rest."
Annie smiled, a real one this time. "I'll be there, Ethan. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Annie."
*~*~*~*~*
[16 Day's Home]
Another week had passed, they days started to feel like they had repeated themselves.
Annie would wake up, get ready for school, meet Ethan for a drive. Go to school, go home, stay up almost all night. Repeate.
But the only break to that routine happened to be Ethan. He kept her on her toes when it was just them.
What excited Annie was Ethan's birthday was the next day, and the surprise painting was for him- and his mother too. Annie had bought a special wooden frame for each canvas, extenuating her artwork. They were beautiful, some of her best work, since she had time she picked away at the finished painting- adding more detail.
She had wrapped them up, and set them in a gift bag- mostly used for transportation, but Annie felt like the occasion called.
Annie quickly walked to the cafeteria, she wanted to pick Ellie's brain, a question lingering in her mind.
The loud chatter of the teenagers who were littered around the room rang in Annie's ears. Annie's eyes dart around the room until their placed on a short brunette. Hurrying her pace Annie slides onto the bench.
"Gotta minute?" Annie asks, Ellie's eyes dart up to meet Annie's, a questioning look in her eye.
"Plenty, whats going on?" She asked skeptically.
"So you know I paint," Annie stated, her blue eyes darting around the room quickly before landing back onto Ellie's brown ones.
"Beautifully, yes," Ellie nods on.
Annie brings her voice down to a whisper, "I made a painting and I think I need some advice. Come to my house later."