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Their car alarm starting wailing, and I immediately began to sweat through my long plum colored dress. It was my sisters when she went to prom, and I was already ruining it with killer pit stains. This was going to be the worst night ever. But what could I do??

I acted quickly and decided to get out of my car, clumsily slipping on my nude heels, and strutting back to the gym. My arms were shaking. I kept my eyes focused on all of the passing signs covering the brick walls of our school. Different lists for campaigns and clubs, some quite outdated. I let the neon flyers take my focus off of having to go ask everyone if their car was a Buick, because I fucking hit it.

The music was getting louder and louder... I could even recognize the song. "Midnight City" by M83 began to start up while I stumbled down the stairs, trying not to trip. I made it down, silently cheering for myself that I hadn't fallen and embarrassed my reputation and well being, well, I don't have a reputation actually. Walking alone to the bathroom is a task I can easily do. I have the confidence, just not the interest. We all drop each other after high school. What's the point?

I went up to the first group of people I saw- a short, curvy girl with brown hair and striking blue eyes, and a tall bleach blonde boy with teeth as white as pearls. Must've been her date. They were holding hands and slowly trying to get into a dance, awkwardly attempting to move as one. I can't say much- that would've been me in that situation too.

I tapped on her shoulder and their eyes both shot at me. I grabbed a piece of my long violet colored hair and brushed through it with my fingers.

"Hey I'm so sorry- do either of you drive a Buick? Um- blue I think..."

Damnit, was it blue?

They both shook their heads and went back to dancing. I turned around and asked a group of girls. Nope. I was now working my way through a maze full of people, constantly repeating myself.

"Do you guys own a Buick?"

"No."

"Okay, thanks."

I noticed I was actually starting a commotion between all of them. They were all looking back at me in their conversations. They were probably annoyed.

"Hey! Hey you." I felt a tap on my shoulder. My head whipped around to see the same boy who was in the bathroom with me. My breath caught in my throat. God not him.

"I heard you were asking who owned a Buick??"

I nodded, scanning him. He wasn't half bad looking: bushy eyebrows, sharp nose, really nice eyes-

Focus.

"Uh- yeah. Yeah, is it yours?? I hit it. But I am so unbelievably sorry-"

His mouth was gaping wide open, eyebrows furrowing with anger and frustration. Two seconds into meeting again and I have beyond pissed him off.

He grabbed his keys out of his back pocket and hurried out to the parking lot. I had to follow him, feeling like a clueless idiot.

He busted the doors open, the cool humid air hitting my face. Leaves danced around under my feet, the smell of dew fresh and traveling through my nostrils. Tonight's sunset paints pinks blues and oranges in a mesmerizing way. I used this moment to calm myself down, before looking at the damage.

The back of my Voltswagen was smashed good and well into the front of his car, the metal looking shriveled and wrinkled. They cut into eachother, or so it appeared that way. The hood of his car was lifted up higher than it was supposed to, and pieces of broken glass scattered all over it. The hole in his front window was ginormous.

I looked back from the ugly sight back to him. He turned to me, looked up, and laughed. I began to laugh too; a friendly laugh. Was he really okay with this? Then I noticed, his laugh was sarcastic. He locked his jaw and rubbed his temples.

Stop living in your head. Say something.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry,"

While repeating myself like a broken record, I felt more stupid than ever. His reaction didn't change, his expression never changed either. Just a cold, hard stare. How was I supposed to react to that? He wasn't giving me much to work with.

He sighed through his nose.

"I'm just going to call my mom, yeah? It's okay, I mean things happen."

His expression sweetened up a bit. The weight on my chest was lifted up only by that- the way he looked at me. It's amazing that such little things a person can do can have such an effect on the mind.

He delivered a weak smile; his hand sticking out to meet mine. My fingers intertwined with his briefly, shaking.

"I'm Austin." His low voice proclaimed.

"My name is Rhiannon."

Sketch (Austin Abrams)Where stories live. Discover now