Page 60 of Some Things Never Change

I laughed. “We? You mean, you and the boys? Who could forget how you guys always stayed up until the sun rose, playing video games or watching horror movies. I’m glad I never stayed up that late and always slept in my room instead.”

“Not in the winter, though. It was always too cold to sleep in the living room. Why do you think I always came crawling to your bedroom instead? It was always the warmest.”

During the winters, when heating our entire home was expensive and having warm bedrooms and bathrooms was more important, our living room was always the coldest room in our home. The boys hardly ever slept there during the winter months. Instead of fighting to sleep on the bed with Jonathan like Anthony always did, Andy would always opt to sleep on a futon on the floor. I never asked, but he always found his way to sleeping on the floor of my small bedroom.

I laughed. “That was so long ago, wasn’t it?”

I became nostalgic over how excited I used to be whenever the air got nippy and frosty. These were the secret moments I treasured the most as a teen. What teenager wouldn’t mind waking up on a Saturday morning to find their crush sleeping in their room and respectfully on the ground? I sure didn’t.

“I miss those times, to be honest. I always loved sleeping on the floor of your room the most whenever it came to your place.” He sounded wistful.

“Really? I’m surprised you’re not complaining about how cold the floor was.”

Andy laughed. “I think I loved the idea of sneaking into your room at night more than complaining about sleeping on a cold floor.”

The apples of my cheeks flushed red hot at his comment. My heart pitter pattered against my chest, knowing our conversation would soon transition to the confession I once chose never to expose. Even now, despite my firm decision to tell Andy the truth, the thought of doing so was still nerve-wracking.

“I love your mom. She’s always so easygoing, kind, and sweet. Meanwhile, my parents would never.”

“Oh, come on,” I said. “Your parents weren’t that bad. Besides, my mom’s only like that with you and Anthony. She's a stickler for rules when it comes to Jonathan and me.”

“My parents forced us to be in bed by eleven o’clock, Tink. How were our sleepovers supposed to be fun with that rule?” He let out a small scoff. “Besides, Mom and Dad are super lax with you and Jonathan, too.”

“You act as if you’re not asleep by 11 o’clock now,” I mentioned.

I could practically hear Andy roll his eyes. "Yeah, but that's because I have to wake up early for the gym. If it were up to me, I'd stay up all night with you.” His voice lowered slightly on the last part.

A shiver ran down my spine at the suggestive tone in his voice. "Well, maybe we can stay up all night soon. For old time’s sake.”

"Sure, it’d be fun.”

“Maybe you can sleep in my bed instead of the floor this time around.”

“Sure, but I bite.”

I smiled. “And I kick.”

“Fuck, yeah, you do. I take back what I said earlier. I’d rather sleep on the floor than in your bed.”

“Fine by me. More space for me to roll around.”

“I’m sure you need it all, too.” Andy let out a hearty laugh. "You know, since we’re reminiscing and all, there's something I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

I held my breath as I urged him on. “What is it?”

“I don’t know how to say this properly, but...” His words tumbled into an incoherent mumble.

“What?”

“I said I used to be jealous of you and Jonathan.”

“Of what?”

Jealous? What was there to be jealous of? I was the one that grew up jealous of the twins instead. They had both of their parents—alive and healthy—and they were well-liked by practically everyone.

“Anthony and I used to think Mom and Dad loved you both more as kids. After your dad passed away, most of their focus was on you two for a while and we felt like we didn’t matter as much to them. I remembered being jealous and angry at you both for taking my parents away, but I eventually realized that you two didn’t deserve it. You both lost your dad, and he was never going to come back.” His voice was soft and light, as if he was confessing something he never would have liked to admit out loud.

It had been so long ago that I hardly even remember what happened. My dad passed away when I was eight, almost nine. I was so young then, so I hardly remember much of the events that followed his funeral. All I remember from then was the deep grief I couldn't comprehend and the longing to see my dad walk through the front door. But even as a kid, I knew the loss of him was going to immensely change my small family.

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