Page 96 of Before We Fell

“No. Stay here.” Riley’s screams sounded like she was being attacked.

Another scream. Far more ear-piercing. I flinched at the sound and was moving out of my door, running through the house. I was breathless by the time I reached her bathroom. The door shut.

A vicious pounding sounding like something was banging against the vanity all while Riley continued screaming. “Ahh! Stupid! Stupid!”

I knocked on the door. “Riley. Open up.”

“No!” she shouted. My head jerked from the forcefulness of her scream.

The hell?

“Riley. Open up.”

“Go away!”

My hand curled around the doorknob and found it unlocked. Opening the door slowly, I didn’t know what to expect. Mangled body? Blood seeping from her pores? I had never, in my entire life heard her scream in such a terrifying manner.

“What is it?” I asked, opening the door and stepping inside. “You scared the hell out of me.”

I tried not to curse around her. The minor infraction seemed worth it due to the fact she’d just terrified me out of my mind.

My chest was heaving like I’d finished a race and my eyes widened with every ridiculous breath I heaved as I took in the sight in front of me.

Riley was dressed in an off-white sweater dress thing that went almost to her knees. She had fall colored striped tights in oranges, yellows, and browns. On her feet, she was already wearing her dark brown boots. The entire outfit I’d bought her last Wednesday at the mall on one of our nights out.

But in her hand, she held her hairbrush. And she was scowling at the mirror with a look of utter disgust.

“What’s going on? And why are you screaming? You scared me half to death.”

Her head swiveled in my direction. Swear to God. The Exorcist came to mind. And out of nowhere, she leaned forward and screamed, “My ponytail doesn’t look right!”

My hand was still on the doorknob, clutching it. And slowly, the fear and terror seeped out of my veins, quickly replaced with confusion. Then…what the hell? “You are screaming down the house…over…your hair?”

Was she kidding me? Had she lost her mind? She had to have. She had to have completely, irrevocably, lost her damn mind.

She slammed the hairbrush to the counter and stomped her feet. “It has a bump!”

I shoved my hands to my hair. Scrubbed them down my face. I’d expected an attacker. A nightmare. Someone with a machete in their hand and waving it in front of her face, threatening her with death from the sounds she’d made.

And this was over hair?

It took several deep breaths and I still couldn’t calm down.

Gaping at her, I looked at her reflection in the mirror. Back to her scrunched up, pissed off face and shook my head. “I can’t deal with you right now.”

It wasn’t the most mature response, not even close. But what the hell?

I turned, leaving the door open and entered the hallway.

Off the hall at the end, Lauren stood, shoulder resting against the doorframe. She was still wearing my white shirt but had found her black leggings from the night before. Her arms were crossed in front of her, lips pressed together like she was fighting a laugh.

“That is not funny.” I jammed a finger in her direction and then at the door. “That is not normal.”

Lauren lost the hold on her humor and laughed quietly. “You’re the one who wanted her to talk.”

This? This was her response. “That was not talking.”

She shook her head, laughed harder. “Just wait a few more years, Noah.”

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