I let out a deep breath before leaned in again and pecked his lips once more. It was probably for three seconds this time around. I pulled back and August and I gazed into each other's eyes. I felt blood rush into my cheeks as he placed his hand on...
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"This is too funny." Faye giggled. "So you telling me if August Baylor teaches you how to drive, you will give him a chance?" Faye asked me with an overtly entertained expression on her face. I had an overwhelming urge to smack her.
"Yes," I answered with a nod.
I can't say why I agreed to his ridiculous offer.
"That's actually hilarious. I'm assuming he must not be serious because that's impossible." Faye chuckled.
I watched her dunk her potato chip into the ridiculous amount of ranch dressing she squirted on the plate in front of her. That girl puts ranch on everything.
"Shut up. I'm not that bad." I pouted.
"Car, come on. Yes you are. You can't drive to save your life. I think it's time for you to come to terms that you are never going to get your license." Faye continued to laugh.
I should smack the fuck out of her.
"It's such a beautiful day." Faye quickly changed the subject when she saw I was about to let her have it.
I turn my neck to take in the scenery of the park. Faye was right. It was a beautiful day. It's just that I would much rather be inside. The sun was soaring. I felt as if my skin was going to melt off. The cold weather cannot come fast enough. I'm not a fan of the heat. Faye however, loves it. I don't know how she convinced me to have a picnic in the park, but here we are.
I took a bite out of my turkey sandwich and skimmed around my surroundings. I have not been to this specific park since Jude and I broke up. We used to come out here after school and walk hand in hand around the park. I sort of miss it.
"What's the matter with you now?" Faye sighed at me.
It was evident I was not enjoying this.
I lifted my arm and pointed at the beehive on the tree behind her. Being that close to something so potentially dangerous made me anxious. Although I don't have any definitive proof, I have a suspicion that I might be allergic to bees. When I was eight, I got stung by a bee at my grandma's house. My sweet grandmother being an elderly Haitian woman she is, did not bother to bring me to the emergency room. Even though my arm swelled up twice its size, she told me to take a shower and go to bed, and I would be fine. Somehow the next morning the swelling miraculously went down. I don't think I would be as lucky the next time. So I've taken extra precautions to avoid bees as much as possible.
Faye lay on her back. For a few seconds, she stared up at the clear sky. It appeared as if she was processing what to say.
"What do you think about him anyway?" I asked to get a little insight into my best friend's point of view of this very bizarre ordeal.
"Who?"
"August," I uttered his name.
"I don't know, he's cute, but it doesn't matter what I think. What do you think about him?"
