The Delinquents

The Delinquents - chpt. 8

The Delinquents

Chapter Eight

 

            “We have to be back by ten,” Derek told me as we walked, “Evan is pretty strict about timing.” I pressed my palms to my thighs, hoping to channel out some of my nervous energy. Every time Derek talked my eyes strayed to his lips. Was I going to have to kiss him?

            I smiled wryly, “Where are we going?”

            “It’s this tiny little Italian restaurant just down the road, they have really good ice cream, it’s homemade.” I looked Derek over and almost smiled at who cute he was. He had dressed nice for the occasion―or at least as nicely as he could considering he lived out of suitcase. Derek wore a nice dress shirt―which he had borrowed from Evan―and dark jeans; his hair was carefully combed to the side.

            I grinned. “Ice cream is a weakness of mine.”

            “See, I could tell, that’s why we’re going to get the best ice cream in town." Something told me that the place we were going was one of the few places you could get ice cream around here. This town was an empty one.

            I laughed aloud and watched as Derek smiled, his cheeks rounding. “You never told me you were psychic, how long have you had that talent?” I was surprised by how easy it was to talk to Derek, despite my inability to stop watching his mouth.

            Derek puffed out his chest in a long exhale. “It comes and goes.”

            I rolled my eyes. “I was expecting a more creative answer, maybe something like: ‘A black cat jumped onto my car and I was transported into the future where everyone had two heads and eyes like tigers, and that’s when I realised I was special’.”

            Derek  looked at me with amazement. “Do you even listen to yourself?” I shrugged and kicked a lose stone as we walked, cheeks heating a little.

            “You want to know what I think?” I asked him as my face cooled.

            He nodded. "I’d love to know what goes on up there.” He laughed as he pointed to my head, the sound was deep and full. Not like Keegan's thunderous laugh, but it was pleasant.

            “I think that you just got lucky with the fact that I like ice cream,” I told him, bumping my shoulder into his as we walked.

            Derek looked down, a small smile on his face. “You’re right, I’m not psychic.” We walked a few more minutes down the road and came across a small shopping centre. There wasn't much to the plaza.

            A shabby looking supermarket inhabited the largest building, it's yellow sign peeling and whitewashed from the sun. Beside it was a hairdressing salon with an old fashioned spinning red, white, and red pole; from what I could see there was only one chair in the place. Beside the out of business convenience store was a Italian restaurant that shone in comparison to the other businesses.

            “Charming,” I murmured, heart fluttering. No boy had ever taken me to dinner before. Not in a place as nice as this. We walked into the restaurant and found only one other couple dining. The sign said to seat ourselves so we did, opting for a window seat. I liked to look around while I ate.

            A waitress came around and took our drink orders before handing us menus. In the end I chose the spaghetti while Derek chose an Italian dish I had never heard of before.