"Stuff it in your mouth," you tell Spencer, who's taking out a triangular slice of a sandwich you brought. Spencer brings the slice up to his mouth and you stuff it inside, earning laughter from the both of you.
"God," Spencer shouts through the moans and gargles, "don't do that Y/N you're gonna kill me."
You shove him back but he doesn't budge, which only makes you eager to do it again. He bites down on the sandwich then takes it and places the uneaten yet smashed part onto the plate next to him. He takes the water bottle next to him and unscrews the top, taking a long gulp.
He winces then twists the cap back on, throwing it to the side. It definitely isn't water. "Vodka?" you ask to make sure. He nods and grabs the bottle, handing it to you. You nod and unscrew the top, swallowing the warm liquid. You wince, the liquid burning your throat and disturbing your insides.
"After a summer of drinking you would think you're better at hiding all that," Spencer tells you, grabbing the sandwich and taking a bite out of it.
Your eyebrows turn down, taken aback by the assumption. "What made you think I spent all summer drinking? You were in Las Vegas playing chess."
He rolls his eyes, his boyband hair covering his right eye. He notices and lifts his hand, swiping away the hair. "I visited my dad and it was awful, so please don't ask about the details."
You turn and grab a lemonade from the small basket you brought. Spencer has taken one already, gulping it down in an instant. Now you have one left, reserved for Sunny. Sunny Hill. Sunny Hill is an eighteen year old teenage boy who was held back a year in third grade. He was placed in Miss Richard's third grade glass, the same one you were in with Spencer. You all got along well that Monday afternoon at recess and ever since, you have been glued together.
Sunny is considered cool, shades on, leather jacket kind of cool except he has no leather jacket, only jet black shades. He has smooth hair, sometimes curly, sometimes straight, but he always attempts slicking it back. It obviously doesn't work, so you mess it up for him.
Spencer pushes aside his bag and chips and lies down on the plaid blanket, his hands reaching for his sunglasses. He slides them onto his face then tucks his hands underneath his head, letting out a heavy sigh.
Spencer has been away for the summer at his dad's and you've been left alone, essentially. Sunny has been working at the guitar shop and your sister- Penelope- has been out with her friends Emily and Derek. "No time, sweetheart. You gotta' learn how to live on your own," she would tell you every day she went out.
You kept in contact with Spencer the entire summer, but he began distancing himself just a tad bit. You didn't think anything of it in the beginning because he was with his father, doing father and son things, but then you started thinking deeper. Perhaps you were overthinking, but Spencer always kept in close contact with you, even when he was away at Las Vegas.
You began to think that maybe he was speaking to someone, found a girl to chat with in Las Vegas and they hit it off. You had no way of proving you were correct, but you stuck to your assumptions.
On the contrary, you did not keep as close contact with Sunny. Sunny is the kind of person to not speak to you for a while, despite being super close, then snap back into himself and return to speaking to you as if nothing happened. He's odd, but you pay no mind to it because he's always nice to you and Spencer. You're all tight, even after every bump in the road you're crossed with.
You look up from the drink and find Sunny walking up to your seating area, his hand rubbing his neck like he's trying to hide something. You squint your eyes and see the reason he's acting so suspicious. "Holy shit," you whisper to yourself, your eyes widening and your mouth slowly parting.
Sunny notices and begins waving his hands up and down, shouting: "fuck off Y/N!" every inch he steps closer to you. You swat at Spencer's arm, waking him from the short nap he was taking. "Look," you exclaim, "Sunny was just attacked by a vampire."
Spencer jolts up and snatches his sunglasses off of his face, gripping them tightly in his right hand. He looks at Sunny and immediately begins laughing, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat. You look at his expression closely, taking in his teeth and his sharp jawline. He looks perfect. But the issue is, you've seen him grow into this eighteen-year old young adult that it's unnatural to think of him differently.
"Hey pretty girl, maybe next time you'll get one of these," Sunny says, hitting your shoulder.
You snap out of your stare and avert your gaze to Sunny's neck, which is littered with dark red- almost purple hickeys. You groan at the sight of his, what you call, injured neck. "No thanks, unless you're gonna give them to me," you tease.
"Haha," Sunny replies, his tone sarcastic. You place your left hand on his right shoulder and turn him so he's facing you. You bring your fingers to his skin and glide them over the marks, amused almost at what you're seeing. You've never received a hickey before so you have no idea what it feels like.
"Come on hon, don't do that, it's weird," Spencer interrupts, taking your arm and pulling it back. "He's probably infected with bacteria."
"He is," you state. You lean back and turn your head, inspecting his neck further although you've seen enough. "Who gave those to you anyway?"
Sunny swallows the lump in his throat, his bottom lip now teethed between his teeth. He doesn't want to say who, but he knows you and Spencer will force him to give it up. "Who is it man?" Spencer joins in.
He doesn't speak for a moment. He's building up the courage to say so, you suppose. "Delilah Walker," he finally says after a long silence.
"Short girl, small feet, red lips all the time?" Spencer asks, all of the non-objectifying questions like usual.
"Big tits, skinny waist, hair to her ass? Red plump lips, mhm."
You hit Sunny, earning a groan from him. "Sunny shut the hell up, don't say that. You could have just said 'petite girl with hair to her ass' and we would have known."
They stare blankly, only Spencer's eyebrows raising angrily at Sunny. Sunny knows you hate it when he makes comments such as the one he made a second ago. Those comments were at an all time high in seventh grade, but you slapped him with such force that he stopped for a couple of years. Then puberty hit him like a bus and he... Sunny began changing during and after puberty, so his comments returned. You talked to him about it and he promised he would keep it at a minimum, and he has, but at a minimum. He has not fully retired from those jack-ass comments.
"Sorry," he mumbles. "Well her, Reid. I picked her up after work and we drove around for a while because damn does it get dark late. It'll be nine o'clock and the sun will still be out." Sunny leans in and so does Spencer, both engaged in what's shared. You could care less because to be quite honest, you are protective of your friends.
You have always cared about your friends, but as you grew older it became different. You were the only girl in the group and you were the glue that not only kept the group together, but them as well. But that wasn't the reasoning behind your protectiveness, well not fully. They've had dozens of crushes before, some leading into relationships, such as Maeve.
Maeve Donovan, blond hair that was dyed brown in middle school because supposedly she had a stalker. Her hair grew out into its natural blonde color and rested in beautiful waves on her shoulders. She was perfection, matched Spencer's type and of course, he fell for her. They spoke for a couple of months then they dated for a year.
Oh how many times Spencer said they were soulmates, that they would last forever, but that was not the case. Maeve claimed that her families stalker had returned which meant she had to leave the state. She stayed true to her word; she left, though no 'good-bye Spencer', no 'I'll miss you', nothing. He was heartbroken, but it dissipated after a couple months.
And Sunny is a different story. He is semi-known for playing girls, the other being known for playing the guitar. Since he plays the guitar, he's like a chick magnet. He's brought girls to trio dates, but none returned. Surprisingly, he's still got his virginity (or so you think). He's made out with girls, kissed both you and Spencer, but he has not gone further.
He says he's saving his card for "someone special." Whatever that means.
You pick at the flowers next to the blanket, taking out the roots and flicking them to the side out of boredom. You take a glance at your nails, the dirt underneath making you uncomfortable and shameful.
Sunny rubs your knee, running warmth through your body. "Don't be all protective, special girl. This was a little thing... for my summer project."
"That makes it worse Sun. You used her for a stupid summer project, that's fucked up," you mutter. You lay your chin on your shoulder and look at him, his smirk dimming your anger. You should still be mad. Sunny is such a fuckup, but so are you and Spencer.
"Not gonna lie to you, it is fucked up," Spencer says. "I could have done that for you, you know that."
Sunny takes in a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds then exhaling. "I think I just wanted some hickeys," he admits.
"Nice one," Spencer replies in a dull tone.
You roll your eyes, upset with Sunny once again. "Sunny, I will slap you into next year."
"Don't do that hon, it's not worth it," Spencer tells you. He grabs your hand and opens your fist, running his soft fingers on the lines of your palms.
"Oh look at Reid, defending the girl who can defend herself," Sunny mimics, his fingers running through today's curly hair.
"Sun, come on man. Look, be nice to her 'kay? I have to go get some meds for my mom." Spencer lets go of your hand and stands up, dusting his brown corduroy pants off with his hands. He bends down and grabs his bag, slinging it over his shoulder.
Sunny extends his hand up to Spencer, to which he rejects. "I don't know where that hand's been," he says. Sunny scoffs, taking his hand and wiping his nose as if nothing happened.
"Bye," you call out, "see you tomorrow at 8:00! Don't be late please."
"I won't!" he returns in the same tone. He disappears into the long, tree filled path, his slim body hiding in the summer leaves.
You let out an inhibited breath, your body limp without Spencer around. Spencer can be boring, but he still remains livening the room every time he walks in. Sunny is still bright and star-like, but he cannot compare to Spencer.
You gaze at Sunny, taking in him and his fellow purple buddies. "You look like shit," you admit.
"Awe thanks. You look beautiful too, pretty girl. The soles to them boots worn out yet?" Sunny jokes, pressing on the bottoms of your Docs.
You shoo away his hand, pushing it back to his bubble. "No, they're completely fine."
He reaches out and begins ticking your stomach, attacking you like the times he would come back from summer camp. You push his hands away, hitting him every chance you get. He's stronger than you think, but you're still given some power. "Sun, get off," you pant. "I don't like it."
"Fine," he laughs between each jab. He stops tickling you but remains on top of you, his hands on either side of your head, his curls covering part of his eye. He breathes heavily, as though he's came back from running a marathon.
You look into his dirty blue eyes, sweaty ones that have rejected the sun for too long. He's stayed inside of that guitar shop all summer, no trips to the beach, simply staying inside like he's some vampire. His skin color matches that as well.
He remains silent, but you have questions; questions that don't involve him. You catch your breath and begin with question one. "Okay, Sun. I have a question."
"Mhm," he answers.
You bite down on your lip, wondering if you should even ask what's been bothering you since mid-June. You want to know if your bestfriend has some kind of secret girlfriend. You have no problem with Spencer having a girlfriend, but you want to at least know if he has one. He's been so private lately, so unlike him. Spencer blabbers, more than the average person does. Therefore, how hasn't he said anything yet?
Then, you let out the question. One way to start off your senior year, right? "Does Spencer have a girlfriend?"
"Reid?" He asks. Such a stupid question, you think. Sunny knows what you don't know, but as he's said before, "you cannot break the bro code." To which you replied, "oh shut up Sunny, I have been your friend for nine years."
"Tell me," you whisper to him.
Sunny climbs off of you and sits down in his spot, wariness splattered across his soft face. He clicks his tongue, his head turning and turning from side to side. He wants to tell you, but that stupid bro code he set in fourth grade is still glued to him. You've told him year after year that it doesn't matter anymore because their secrets are spilled to you regardless of the wall built, but he remains thinking what he thinks.
"Yeah," he says after a second.
"Who?" you continue with your string of questions. You want to know who your bestfriend is dating, albeit your heart being shattered from the lack of honesty in just a second.
Your mouth opens wide, catching one, ten, hundreds of flies. You could never top Jennifer Jareau, even if you tried. You aren't jealous of her taking Spencer, but about how soft and innocent she is.
She's a Christian, from what you've heard, but everyone has grown out of their "religious stage" after junior year. Maybe Jennifer has changed, turned into some goth girl over the summer where the bright blonde hair of hers is dyed black; her eyes are black, only her blue eyes being the source of color. But even if she didn't change and she remains "Christian girl Jenni," she still has more power than you.
Jennifer Jareau huh, you think. "She's cool."
a/n: short chapter. enjoyable? You tell me lovelies:) I love the thought of High School Spence, I hope you guys do too. And yes, Sunny is Kyle Gallner, who I believe was in Heathridge Manor. I am in love with him... Anyways, love you all!