Fix It

Chapter Two

Darren's hands are clutched tightly around the steering wheel as he directs his very focused gaze onto the road in front of him. His eyes are narrowed in concentration as the smooth concrete disappears beneath us. 

I bite down on my lip and turn to look out the window. We're about to arrive at the bar, and to be totally honest, I'm quite nervous. 

It seems totally ridiculous that I, a person who can barely utter more than a few sentences to him, am going to have drinks with this abnormally attractive person. I suppose he has his reasons.

I assume that money is not one of them, unless he assumes some random person working in a coffee shop for some reason has a large sum of money. Well, I don't, so I hope he won't be disappointed.

Darren's voice brings me out of my rather negative thoughts. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asks, watching me out of his peripheral vision. I blush, and look away.

What is a good way to tell your room-mate that you think you're nothing compared to someone?

"I'm not really thinking about anything," I lie smoothly, and continue watching the buildings as we pass by. I know we must be close by now; we've been driving for about 45 minutes.

Darren shakes his head but does not reply. He pulls into a parking lot in front of a fairly large building. I look up at the building, my anxiety returning full force. I basically sink into my seat, wishing for it to once again consume me. The thought is alarming and I force myself to sit up straight.

I won't go back to that time- not right now, not ever. 

"Ready?" Darren asks, turning to look at me. His dark brown eyes are filled with a gentleness that is not usually common for him. 

"I guess," I say with the most nonchalant shrug that I can muster. 

No, I'm not ready. I want to curl up in a ball or run home screaming. I want to hide under my bed from everyone and not come out until I'm prepared to make myself into something. Knowing me, it won't be ever, but that doesn't matter, so long as I don't have to get out of this car.

Still, there is some very deep part of myself that demands that I suck it up and go in there. Some deep -distant- part of myself wants to see that man. That part of myself is unknown to me, and I dislike the feelings that it conjures up. I'm strictly aromantic. I don't do relationships. I'm not supposed to want anyone, but especially not someone that I can barely talk to.

Darren rests his hand on my knee causing me to jump in surprise; the sudden contact of his cool hand shocking me. I look up at him, and notice that his eyebrows are furrowed in concern. 

"You know you don't have to do this right?" he asks, tipping his head to the side. A piece of his dark brown hair falls into his face as he does so, and I lean up to push it out of his face.

I bite my lip. Do I have to do this? Yes, yes I do. Because no matter how terrified I am, I know that I won't allow myself to walk away from this.

"I know," I say, opening my door and standing up. I lean down to say to him, "But I want to." He dips his head and gets out of the car as well. 

"It's your funeral, kid," he responds, and locks his car up as we walk up to the bar. 

I'm honestly somewhat opposed to alcohol, because of my father, but I drink anyway sometimes. I always end up feeling guilty and terrible the next day, though. In any case, I've already had a couple drinks tonight. None of which have helped to calm my nerves. 

As we walk in, I immediately notice him sitting at a table in the back corner of the bar. Next to him is a grinning, dark-haired boy, who looks very happy. I suppose I shouldn't be allowed to be jealous; I brought Darren with me.