Polaroids and Postcards | ✔️

Chapter 10: Motels & Text Messages

I realized in that moment, as much as I hated to admit it to myself, that I found Della Rae... interesting. Not in a creepy way, of course! And definitely not in a romantic way either, just so we're clear. But Della had a way of holding my attention with her wildness. Granted, it was overwhelming for me nine times out of ten, but she still intrigued me.

How can a person be so free and wild and untamed and expressive all at once? It doesn't add up.

But then again, Della was like an unsolvable equation. An answerless riddle. A colorfully confusing and mixed up puzzle. I just didn't understand her. But slowly and surely, a secret part of me started to finally want to try.

Ring-riiinnngggg...

Both of us snapped out of our silent reflective moments, our eyes falling onto Della's glittery cellphone.

"Derrick Dawson" strikes again.

Della blushed and swiftly rejected the call. A quick, almost undetectable glance fell on me before she turned back to the road. Was she embarrassed? Or ashamed? The flush finally started to fade, so I waited for an explanation. But it never came. And I finally grasped that I wasn't ever going to get an excuse unless I requested one.

"Della," I swallowed, suddenly afraid to ask, "why do you always—?"

"Oh, look, there's a motel up ahead!" Della said far too brightly, even for her. "Let's go see if they have any rooms left. It's almost ten o'clock."

Yikes.

Della Rae shut me down. And it stung.

•••

There was one room left. One... Not two. ONE. Totally not awkward at all. One guy, one girl, and one room in a crappy motel doesn't look bad at all either.

"Home sweet home!" Della sang out when we opened the door.

I can't tell if that's actually sarcasm or not. If it is, her sarcasm is so unbelievably advanced, even I don't get it. Sheesh.

It was a dump. A ratty quilt decorated the tiny bed, which was complete with mismatched pillow shams and an ugly, green comforter. The table lamp beside this whole setup didn't even have a shade on it. Just a suspicious-looking bulb. And I dare not forget to mention the amazing couch in the corner nearest the door, made exceptional by the holes torn into it and the nameless stains.

"I hope it doesn't rain tonight," I stated, looking up at the telltale stains on the ceiling.

"Mr. Negativity, give it a rest. It's shelter for the night and it was cheap."

"Not cheap enough," I muttered, tossing my backpack onto the floor. "If I see roaches OR rats, we're leaving. You hear me?"

"Kay!" she smiled, settling into a crisscross position on the bed. "I need to do another update on the ole blog."

The clicking of her laptop keyboard soon filled the room, and I fell onto the questionable couch as the sound lulled me into stupor.

"Hey, we need to find a post office or something before we leave tomorrow, okay?"

I jumped a little and forced my eyes to open again. "Yeah, sure, whatever..."

"I have to get these postcards in the mail. I found a couple that I lost in my bag and forgot to send before."

"Okay..."

So, sooo sleepy...

"Oh! And after this blog post is up, I need to do a page or two in my scrapbook. And then I wanna upload a few pictures onto my Instagram. You're actually quite popular with my female followers already."