No really, I'm okay. I'm also a great liar.

semi-noodly messes play rock-paper scissors and i doodle my datemate

August comes around, and with it a heat wave that I just really don't want to deal with. My skin doesn't tan or burn, just gets freckly. I've stopped trying to keep track of the amount, but they are populating my face, shoulders, back, and arms in a multitude.

I spend a lot of time in my bedroom, either in my house or Jenna's, Skyping Annabelle. I could go and visit here, sure, but I don't have a car and if I tried to walk for that long my limbs would melt into a semi-noodly mess on the pavement.

Annabelle says I'm being dramatic, but her truck is getting repaired and I don't see her walking anywhere.

I'm in Jenna's basement now, listening to Oscar fiddle around on the piano. I'm bored out of my mind — piano is pleasant to hear, but it has been a couple hours.

I hear him stop playing and get up. (Well, actually, I can hear the bench pushing against the carpet as he stands up.)

I feel something large and flag flop on my bare stomach then something else that feels suspiciously sharp briefly poke into my thigh.

"I found a bunch of your old sketchbooks under your bed," comes his voice. "Why do you never draw in any of them?"

I think he expects it to be a rhetorical question, but I mumble out an answer. "What would be on the inside isn't worthy of the exterior."

I can't see him, but I know Oscar just rolled his eyes.

"Haze, You should do something productive."

"What's productive?"

"Draw, Hazel," he says, poking me in the squishy skin of my stomach.

I pick up the sketchbook and just start doodling small, cute pictures of Annabelle. Annabelle laughing; Annabelle sleeping; Annabelle reading; Annabelle swinging her legs back and forth while she sits on a counter, chatting with me while I bake.

I miss her, even though it's barely been a day. She's in every corner of my brain, keeping me company and making puns.

The first thing I see when my eyes open back up is red. Lots and lots of it. Then I try to take a breath and it's there too.

I shove Jenna out of my face. "Blech. J-babe, your hair was in my mouth."

"Good evening, Hazel Ava. Sleep well?"

"Skip the pleasantries, darling. I know by this point I shouldn't be surprised, but why is your first instinct upon seeing me asleep always to climb on top of me?"

To be honest, I should just be glad Jacob isn't here. He'd climb on top of both of us and stay there.

He calls it a group hug. I call it slow, painful death by cuddle suffocation.

She just shrugs. "Meh. It's fun." She catches sight of my sketchbook on the ground. "I looked through your sketchbook, too. Annabelle looks very cute."

"Why?" I ask the ceiling fan, which is moving sluggishly against the light blue paint. It doesn't respond.

"Hey, what are friends for? Besides," she says, laying back down on top of me, "you're very warm."

"So I've been told."

Jacob drives the three of us to Annabelle's apartment on August thirteenth, where we're going to help her pack her things.

All the windows in the home have been thrown open. She's got on this long white skirt that flows about near her calves and a pink tank top that makes her warm skin warmer. I can see the freckles scattered about on her shoulders and collarbones. (I don't think I'll ever get used to how stunning she is.)

"M'kay, so," she says, sounding a bit breathless, "it's all in boxes, we just gotta put 'em in the car." Her voice sounds so much prettier in person than over the phone. She rushedly walks over to me, pecks me in the cheek in greeting, then rushedly walks back into another room.

Around two hours later, she's all packed up and ready to go. She's not leaving until later on in the evening, which I'm glad for.

I decide to treat us all to food.

"Annabelle, hun. Since it's your parting party, you get to choose what we consume," Jacob drawls into a pillow.

"Japanese," she blurts immediately.

"You sound like you've been thinking about that a lot," Jenna observes. I snicker.

"I have."

And so our Japanese food quest begins. 

By that, I mean Jenna, Jacob, and I play rock-paper scissors to decide who has to go pick up the food because delivery is expensive and making a delivery person go out in this heat would be bordering cruel.

Jenna loses (she always picks scissors), so Jacob puts in Annabelle's copy of Disney Hercules and we all share her biggest blanket.

When it's finally time to drive to the airport, we split up into two cars (me and Annabelle, and Jenna and Jacob). Bonnie and Felicity are going to meet us there.

She takes a CD out of her backpack before starting the car, and pushes it into the player. The first couple notes of Hometown start playing.

"Wait." I look at Annabelle, whose eyes are sparkling. "Is this ..."

She nods. "I'll tell you, I made this CD the day I met you." I smile, remembering that day. I try to tone it down a bit, but I just end up smiling more and eventually give it up. 

"The second I saw you," she continues, "the second I talked to you, I knew I wanted that night to happen. And though I didn't quite imagine this in my future, I want it to happen. I want us to happen."

I unbuckle my seat belt, then climb over the stick shift into her lap and bury my face into her neck.

"I'm gonna miss you so much."

"I'm gonna miss you too, love," she sighs into my hair, rubbing her hands up and down my back. "Wait, is this my cardigan?"

I giggle, and I know she can feel it. "Maybe."

"Not like I can blame you. I have about four of your sweatshirts in those boxes."

"Ooh, which ones?" I sit back against the steering wheel, my nose only inches from Annabelle's. I count the crinkles in her smile, trying to take a mental picture of her.

Our hometown's in the dark

"Um," she bites her lip in concentration, eyebrows furrowed, "the twenty one pilots one, and the one with like the stuff on it, and then the blue one with the flowers on the back, and I think the really soft cream one."

I shrug. "As many as it takes for you to not forget me."

She snorts. "I could never forget you, Hazel Ava."

Annabelle reaches out and brushes my hair from under my ear, tracing the black words there, her alluring chocolate eyes sparkling brighter than the stars on that night. She leans forward and kisses me.

When I climb back into my own seat and buckle back up, we're both smiling. It is a bit bittersweet, but honestly I feel like I won't actually be missing from her.

She said hello, she was letting me know

I dig in my own backpack, and bring out what Oscar took one look at and ruffled my hair affectionately, saying I need to show her.

I push the sketchbook into her lap. "For the plane." She looks down at it, then at me, and nods, sliding it into her bag. Then she starts the car.

a/n: so i've decided that the actual school year will go by very quickly, because it'd drag on and probably end up boring (you don't wanna read that, i don't wanna write that, kapeesh?)

i have a very clear image in my mind of how i want this story to end, and i'm really excited for it!

have a wonderful day/night/morning, loves