Avery

Avery

I brush through my hair as this weird taste coats my tongue. It started a few days ago, every time I wake up in the morning there’s this salty taste. First it was only on my lips but now it’s also on my tongue. Maybe I’m getting sick as my throat is somehow sore too.

It actually started when Uncle Jake arrived. Maybe he gave me some kind of weird flu.

“Avery, are you up?” my other uncle, Greg, bellows from the kitchen.

I groan and shift on my feet as I tie my hair up. “Yes, I’m up!” I yell back.

My foster parents kicked me out when I turned eighteen. And even though that’s already 6 years ago, I still haven’t managed to find a place for my own. I’ve been living with my uncle Greg for the last six months. Or at least, I call him uncle. We aren’t really blood related. He was just a close friend to my dad. But not close enough to take me in when my parents died. Meaning, I got thrown into foster care.

It was okay, it had its ups and downs.

“Mostly downs,” I mumble as I graze my fingers over the scars on my under arms.

But it’s okay now, I got a job here to keep me out of trouble and to keep myself busy. I even get a bit of pay that I use to save up for my own place.

I pull on some simple jeans and search for a shirt. I grab a dark blue one from the floor and glide into it. My brows knit as realize this isn’t mine. It’s way too big and smells like cigarettes.

“Avery! Come on!” Greg calls out.

I tie up the bottom of the shirt and grab some socks before hurrying out.

“Sorry, sorry,” I mutter as I step into the kitchen. The scent of bacon and eggs makes my stomach growl and I snag some from the pan onto a plate.

“You got to drive with Jake, I’ve got to go Avery.” He sighs and turns toward me. “Don’t forget…” his voice dies down as he stares at my shirt. “Ehm, where did you get that?”

I peek up at him, my mouth filled with bacon and egg as I shrug.

“Never mind,” he mutters. “See you there.”

And with that he runs out the door.

I finish my breakfast in a few quick bites, the weird salty taste finally leaving my mouth. I rinse the plate and set it neatly besides the sink before I walk down the hall toward Jake’s room.

His door slightly open, but not enough to peer inside. I knock twice, my knuckles rapping against the dark-stained wood.

“Jake?” I call out. “You up? We’ve got to leave soon.”

Silence.

I wait a beat longer before speaking again, louder this time. “Jake?”

Still nothing.

The hair on the back of my neck prickles as I press my palm against the cool surface of the door and push it open gently. The hinges creak softly and warm air rushes out from the room—a mix of cigarette smoke with something like unwashed sheets and faint cologne.

Slivers of sunlight cut through half-closed blinds. His desk is cluttered with empty soda cans and ashtrays brimming with stubbed-out cigarettes. The faint sound of a fan whirs somewhere near his bed.

I step inside cautiously. Each step muffled by the soft carpet. I can’t stop the slight pickup in my pulse as I approach his bed. I’ve always had a crush on these guys when I was younger. The crush faded over the years when I realized they are way too old for me but still, they’re easy on the eyes. Perhaps a bit too easy. Greg with his broody dad vibes and Jake, the teasing bad guy.

“Jake,” I whisper as he lies sprawled under dark sheets.

He doesn’t stir, not even a change in his breathing.

I reach out and place a hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly. “Jake,” I repeat more firmly this time. “Wake up.”

Suddenly, his body jolts upright. His hand shoots out and grabs me by the wrist. A sharp gasp escapes my lips as he yanks me off balance. The world tilts as I’m pulled downward; my back hits the carpeted floor with a dull thud and his breath trails over my face.

“For fuck sake, Avery.” His voice is hoarse from sleep as he pulls himself back. His strong painful grip leaving me.

And then I do something I shouldn’t. I shamelessly let my eyes wander down.

“O my god!” I shriek as I notice’s he’s fully naked and look away. Why did I have to look down?

Jake groans, his hands running through his mess of dark hair as he quickly reaches for the rumpled blanket on the floor to cover himself. His movements are slow and heavy with sleep, but there’s a hint of amusement in the curve of his lips. He catches my reaction—my face burning what must be a furious shade of red—and lets out a low chuckle.

“Well,” he says, voice still rough but edged with humor, “that’s one way to wake up.”

I splutter as I spin around on the spot and fumble toward the door.

“Put some clothes on!” I manage to squeak out, yanking his door open and stumbling into the hallway without daring to look back.

I hear him laugh behind me and I shake my head. Yeah, the teasing bad guy everyone should stay away from.

“You barged in here,” he calls after me. “Not exactly my fault you got more than you bargained for.”

I grumble under my breath as I lean against the cool wall. “Why do I even put up with him?” I mutter to myself.

A few minutes later, his door creaks open. I glance over just in time to see Jake step out fully dressed, thank god, in his usual worn jeans and plain shirt that clings just slightly to his broad shoulders. There’s a cigarette tucked behind one ear and his trademark smirk plastered across his face. He looks far too pleased with himself.

“All set,” he says, as though nothing completely mortifying just happened between us.

I scowl at him but say nothing as I march toward the kitchen to put on my shoes. Jake trails lazily behind me, whistling an off-key tune that only irritates me further.

As I tie my shoes, he glances down at me and a frown edges into his features. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

My movements freeze and I peek up. “The better question would be, why was it in my room?”

Jake snorts and pulls the cigarette from behind his ear, twirling it between two fingers. Then he laughs, low and deep. I narrow my eyes at him as heat creeps up my neck for the second time in ten minutes.

“You’re unbelievable,” I mutter, double-knotting my laces with more force than necessary.

“So,” he says. “What’s the plan now that you’re shacking up with Greg for six months? Gonna redecorate his place? Throw some wild parties while he’s at work?”

“Shacking up?” I ask. “It’s hardly ‘shacking up.’ He’s practically family.”

Jake raises an eyebrow, his smirk tilting just enough to make me feel like I’ve said something naive. “Yeah, yeah,” he drawls. “Uncle Greg and all that. Still doesn’t answer my question.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do than torment me?” I snap, standing and grazing my hands down my borrowed—his—shirt.

Jake shrugs, shoving the cigarette between his lips. “Nah. Tormenting you is my favorite pastime.” He pats at his pockets until he finds his lighter, flicking it open with a quick spark. The flame catches the tip of the cigarette, and he takes a long drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke that wafts lazily toward the ceiling.

I cross my arms and he tilts his head slightly and says, “So… what’s the plan?”

I blink at him. “The plan for what?”

He gestures vaguely with two fingers that are holding the cigarette. “For you. What’re you gonna do? Spend the whole time stealing my clothes and glowering at me?”

“First of all,” I snap, pointing a finger at him. “I didn’t steal your clothes. Second of all, why do you even care?”

Jake exhales a stream of smoke and grins around the cigarette still dangling from his lips. “Just curious.”

“You? Curious?” I scoff.

He pushes off the doorframe with one shoulder and steps closer until we’re nearly toe-to-toe. His eyes flicker over my face—lingering a little too long on my lips—and then back up to my eyes. “Yeah,” he says softly, almost teasingly. “About you? Always.”

My breath hitches for half a second before I shove past him with a huff. He’s impossible to deal with when he gets like this—when he’s all lazy grins and subtle innuendos that make me question whether he’s actually flirting or just trying to get under my skin for fun.

“Yeah, well,” I call over my shoulder without turning around, “don’t hold your breath waiting for me to entertain you.”

Behind me, Jake chuckles again—a low sound that sends a shiver down my spine—and I hear him say something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “too late”.