outside

chapter 8

"Is it good, love?" Van asked from across the table, taking a sip of his orange juice. He had dragged me to a small little diner he saw on the way home last night and we were now sitting down to breakfast. A large stack of chocolate chip pancakes sat in front of Van on white plate that was bigger than my head, and a ham omelet sat in front me, steam rolling off of it as it had just been delivered to our little booth in the corner.

The diner was cute, it was one of those kinds that you'd see in movies, with black and white checkered floors and red leather booths and chairs. And of course, all the waitresses are sweet old ladies who care about your lives more than their own. Van and I both wanted chocolate chip pancakes and an omelet of some sort, so we decided to just share a little of each.

"Yeah, delicious. Here, try it." I said, picking up a fork full of the egg concoction and handing it to Van. He shook his head and opened his mouth instead, signaling for me to feed it to him. I laughed and did so, leaning across the table so that I could reach his mouth. He made a stared up at me as I placed the food into his mouth, his full lips closing around the fork. We held eye contact for a bit, his grey-blue eyes piercing into mine. I cleared my throat awkwardly and sank back into my side of the booth.

"So?" I raised my eyebrows, waiting for his response.

"Ace." He smiled at me with his full cheeks, resembling a chipmunk. I giggled and continued eating.

Once we had finished devouring our small feast, Van insisted he paid the bill, despite my constant protests. We walked out of the restaurant and the chilly air met my face, instantly taking my breath away. I smiled, it felt nice.

"Alright, love?" Van asked, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, worry etched across his face.

"Yeah, it's just colder than I expected." I chuckled, pulling my jacket closer around my body. I was now thankful that I had brought it.

Van and I continued down the streets of Kansas City, cute little window shops passing us by as we talked about the most random things. He told me how his favorite color was black and how he loved his mom to pieces. How he'd always been the outcast in high school and how Larry was pretty much his only friend back then. He went on and on about how music was really the only thing that allowed him to be himself. I smiled, falling deeper in love with this oblivious boy the farther we walked.

"Wait, there's a record store!" I squealed, noticing one of the small window shops that had "Tony's Records" painted across the display window, a vintage record player sitting just inside it. I grabbed his hand and pulled him through the door. A little bell rung over the door as we entered and I heard him laugh from behind me. The place looked kind of run-down. The walls were a yellowish-beige and the carpet was black. There was a rather large man behind the counter and he sat there with his arm propped up next to the old cash register, his head lying in his hand as he glumly stared off into space, not even welcoming us in. I didn't care though, I just ran over to where all the records were, eager to find some good albums.

All of the vinyls were shelved in alphabetical order, making it easy for me to sort through the good and the bad. I could still feel Van's cold hand in mine, but I didn't dare let go.

I scanned the "A" shelf, smiling as I saw AC/DC, Adele, and Aerosmith all filed there. Arctic Monkeys soon came into view and I squealed, taking out the vinyl to look at it. It was identical to the one I had in my collection at home.

"D'ya like that one, love?" Van asked from beside me.

"Yeah, but I already have this." I sighed, putting it back on the shelf.