More Than a Memory

11 | double date

Emma

Friday night, Corey's car. Parked at the bowling alley while we wait for Colt and Sophia to stop fighting. Music is low and so is the level of awkwardness. But only because we're all still in separate cars.

This should be fun.

---

"So... should we just go in?"

Corey's voice comes out in a whisper as though the two arguing people in the other car might hear us. Lucky for him, that won't happen unless Colt or Sophia have supersonic hearing. And lucky for all of us, Corey and I can't hear their conversation either.

It's better that way. Overhearing an argument is just as unpleasant as having one, let alone with others listening in. It's just a bad situation all around.

A defeated sigh falls from my lips. "There's no way to the entrance without passing by Colt's car and they'll know we saw them fighting."

"Okay," he answers, settling back into his seat. He glances over at me, eyes locked onto mine for a split second with a sweet, little grin on his lips before looking forward again.

It's still strange to see on him, that cute smile. It makes me weak. But it also fills me with a sense of satisfaction.

Corey was basically a moody, football wielding grump who enjoyed cigarettes and the company of random girls before we started seeing each other. He's still a bit of a grump but the other girls and the cigarettes are history, much to my overflowing delight.

Falling for him has been an interesting calamity to the pristine nature of my life thus far. For starters, his wardrobe consists of mostly dark clothing, there's some intimidating ink adorning his skin, and his taste in music is uncouth.

He has a motorcycle, his circle of friends is small, and he doesn't do much talking, more content to silently observe. Although when it's just the two of us, there are no gaps in conversation because he likes talking to me, which is kind of nice. He has all kinds of interesting thoughts and I hang on his every word.

Oh boy, that motorcycle. My dad can never know about the motorcycle.

My mouth is watering just thinking about it.

Good grief, Emma. Focus.

Where was I? Oh yes, Corey.

As far as auras go, his is sort of dark and, by most standards, that darkness exists in opposition to everything I am, what I've always associated with. Because of that, his presence wasn't always welcome among the softer things in which I've always found comfort. But as these matters often go, I couldn't help being drawn to him.

He asked me out seventeen times before I finally agreed to it and I have to admit, once I got to know him, well...

I wish I'd said yes the first time.

Contrary to my original closed up way of thinking, there's a softness to Corey Hoffman that I hadn't expected to find. I had to dig pretty deep to get there, almost lost my shovel in the abyss. But I found that plushy goodness.

And it's glorious.

It turns out, he fits perfectly in my world and he's become one more place I find comfort. And to think, I almost judged a book by it's cover. Harsh.

My eyes drift back to Colt's car, parked across from where we are and a few spots over. Sophia's arms are crossed stiffly in front of her chest and she's staring out the passenger side window as Colt waves his hands around, his mouth moving with the speed of an Olympic swimmer. After being friends with him since Kindergarten, I know a few things about the mannerisms of Colten Hart and right now, he's pleading, worried. He looks positively disheartened.