When Life Gives You Lennon

Things Get Fruity

3. Things Get Fruity

I stared at Austin O'Malley's outstretched hand, raising an eyebrow, and trying desperately not to look scared out of my mind. Come on, it's just a handshake, I thought to myself. I glanced back up to his face, noticing the warmth in his brown eyes and his easy, crooked smile.

Tentatively, I placed my hand in his, looking warily in his eyes the entire time in case he got any other ideas about touching me. This was a one time thing. Yeah, a one time thing.

His hand was warm like the rest of him as it enveloped mine. It's comfortably steady, unlike my own shaking fingers. About three seconds later my hand was back, safe by my side and I thought, oh my god I just shook some guy's hand.

"I'm Lennon," I whispered, still shocked at how easy that was. I mean, I just shook his hand. That's a big step for me.  

Austin, completely unaffected by the handshake as if he touches random girls' hands all the time, crossed his arms. The action made the lean muscles in his forearms appear. "Well now I know why you moved here." 

What? Did I give too much away? How could he possibly know that from just a handshake?! "What?" I muttered weakly, and albeit, a little defeated. I was really hoping I could get lost here for a while. 

"Oh yeah. I mean, with a name like Lemon, you were probably bullied constantly. Hell, I don't blame you for moving to Middle Of Nowhere, Georgia. I sure would." The teasing glint in his eye made me almost sigh in relief, my shoulders returning to their natural position. He didn't know. 

Finn cracked up, and then his words started to sink in. I place my hands on my hips, the anxiety of before washing away, replaced by frustration. "It's Lennon. Not Lemon."

Finn jabbed an elbow into Austin's side. "She's a sour Lemon, ain't she Austin?"  

"Nah, she's just misunderstood. Like most angsty, urban teenagers," He replied while giving me a smirk. 

It's like this guy planted a bomb inside me that explodes into sarcasm. "Yeah, you would know. I mean, have you ever even been five miles out of this town before?" I said with an edge to my voice. He didn't know me. If urban teenagers were misunderstood, then I was a college-level math equation.

He seemed to ponder this, his eyebrows knitting together, making his crooked smile disappear. And I almost wished I could take it back, just so it could reappear. It was nice. Refreshing.

"You're right, Finn. She is a sour Lemon."

And that right there, that's what I do. I suck the life out of people so that they're just as royally fucked up as me. I felt really bad about it so I said, "It's okay. New York's not that great anyway."  

I wasn't prepared for the grin Austin O'Malley flashed me, making a chill run down my spine (which is totally messed up because it's a million degrees out here). "Well that just makes me even more determined to make sure you have a grand ol' time here in Stanton." 

"Oh Stanton," Finn sang, very off key might I add. "The land o' french fries an' broken dreams."

My eyebrows raised on their own accord. "That's not really your anthem is it? Because that's just depressing."  Since when did I talk this much? I was baffled by my own confidence. 

Finn's whole face lit up, and for a second I swore he looked just like an actual puppy. I think it's the eyes. "I wish. The real one's all about the Civil War an' the Confederacy. Puts me to sleep just thinkin' about it," he said.

"As much as I love talking about the reasons why Stanton bores us to tears," Austin interjected, throwing an arm over my shoulders. "I think we should bring our compelling intelligence to the diner or something."