Jovie & Bash

Seventeen || Synchronization

|SEVENTEEN|

The relationship I had with my mother always felt like a cloudy, grey day on the brink of a thunderstorm. You walked through it cautiously, with your umbrella halfway open, praying it'd just be over with and rain.

And, now it finally had, the sun was new and foreign and blinding in an overwhelming way I couldn't explain. It felt good, warm on my skin and comforting. Yet, I couldn't fully open my eyes. They were sore from being shaded so long.

Because of this, my mother and I found we couldn't just sit and expose ourselves for long periods of time. We would both grow uncomfortable and shut down. So, we found a solution. During dinner we each allowed ourselves to ask one thing about each other to discuss. We had to answer and be one-hundred percent honest, but we got to choose how much was divulged.

It was a simple strategy, and it worked well for us. For the first time we spoke more than a couple sentences to each other a week. We actually talked-and I heard her laugh-really laugh-and it was the closest I'd ever felt to her. She didn't just feel like Meredith Sinclair, mayor of Ashwood Creek, anymore. She felt like Mom-not the home-makery type, or the soccer mom type, or the working mom type-but someone I could relate to, someone who was more than just surface level.

Things were changing and everyone noticed. My eyes were clear, my heart was open, and I felt like free falling.

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"So, where is he?" Quinn sat perched on the arm of the chair opposite of mine, the one Bash usually fell into after dropping a new book in my lap.

I glanced down the aisle, listening for the book cart that never used to squeak but had started to recently. All I got was a whiff of dust and yellowing pages. We'd been sitting here for fifteen minutes, and still, there was no sign of Bash anywhere. It never took him this long to appear.

I shrugged. "Don't know. He usually senses I'm here. Maybe he took the day off."

A part of me was happy he hadn't shown. I didn't want to bring Quinn with me, but she insisted she get to meet Bash again since the last time she saw him was an embarrassing memory for me, to say the least.

I didn't want to share Bash with Quinn. She was always bubbly and flirty around guys, like her personality suddenly got dipped in sugar when one entered the room. And, maybe it was ridiculous to feel possessive of Bash because of my best friend, but I'd worked so hard to make sure Bash was my haven, my special person. I hated the idea of tainting that.

Quinn sighed and slipped down into the cushions boredly. After a moment of inspecting the ends of her dirty blonde hair, she looked up at me. "Can I be honest with you?"

I hated that question. It always made my insides seize up in panic. Nevertheless, I calmly answered, "Sure."

Her lips pursed. "He's not as cute as I thought he'd be."

The relief I felt made me giggle. "Oh?"

She nodded and then leaned across the end table between us to whisper, "He looks like one of our forefathers with that hair, don't you think? And, he works here, in the library? Shouldn't he be at a university?"

My face flushed, and I struggled to gather a coherent sentence when I heard a newly familiar squeaking sound and turned to see Bash rounding the corner. Seeing me, his lips stretched into a smile.

"Jovial," he crowed, "Now, what on Earth are you doing here? I thought I wasn't going to see you until this weekend-Oh...Hi." Bash stopped rolling the cart forward, and looked to Quinn.