Take Me Home | ✔

Chapter Four

        ↠  friday - precisely a week before graduation   

     If I could only reach out and touch the awkwardness with my hands, I would. But since we were sitting in a cramped two-star coffee shop in a one-star hotel, that would mean slapping in the face. I ran into another problem when I couldn't come up with the money I'd promised to pay for his coffee. I ended up looking like a liar and an extreme cheapskate in front of Elliot, who was apparently on puberty's good side.

 Just as I was about to make a small effort on even smaller-talk, he abruptly interrupted. 

 "You don't have to do this, Vienna," he says casually. "I'm fine, really, and I wasn't even crying." 

 I gave him a  skeptical look. If I had a mirror, I would flash it right up against his face so he could see his own bloodshot eyes. 

 "You don't have to talk about it, but don't lie about it either," I said. 

 "I'm not lying. I was cutting onions before you found me in the hallway." 

 "You're a terrible liar." 

 "I know." 

 I sigh, and take a good glimpse of the boy who I thought had fallen off the face of the earth. "It's fine, I realize how nosy I'm being right now anyways." 

 "No, you're alright, because it's nothing," he shrugs. "You've changed a lot, Vienna." 

 Surprisingly, I chuckle at his comment. 

"I feel the same, crappy self," I admittedly said, but added hastily, "You've changed over the years too. You got. . . older, and bigger, and taller. Yep." 

He laughs at my awkward jumble of words and brings a warm feeling to my stomach. I was glad to find a friend in this strange place, where I was sure to crumble in my loneliness and panic, eventually becoming a homeless person on the street. But no, I had Elliot, the man who had crushed my petty childhood kiss.  

Looking down at my cup of stale coffee, I didn't know whether to casually break the favor or beg him while on my knees. I needed to get back to California fast, and paranoia was slowly seeping in, making my palms sweat. 

"Why are you here in North Carolina anyways?" he asks me. 

And with this one simple question, I finally saw my chance to ask him to take me home. 

"It was supposed to be a small overnight cross-country graduation trip, for like, three or four days," I said, "But instead, I'll be staying here for about a month." 

His eyebrows ruffle in confusion. "How so?" 

"Well, I had overslept and my stupid self had forgotten that the buses would leave at ten, and therefore, I missed my ride back home." 

"That's impossible. If I were you, and this was a school sponsored trip, I would sue the school," he said all-knowingly, making me wonder for a minute where he suddenly got so smart-sounding. He sure didn't look like it. 

"I don't have time to sue. Graduation is next week and I have no money, a dead phone which is in my luggage which was stolen when I turned around for two seconds, and no way back home to California," I casually remark, and I prayed my six months of taking that dreaded drama class in junior year would pay off, as I sighed a deep, forlorn breath. But instead of a small pithy sigh, I groaned like the world was ending.

But my dramatic slip-up was payed well, by a few, simple words. 

"Well if you're so bummed about not getting back home, why not I take you?"