shakespeare . dallas winston

24; waterfall

"Huh," he grunted, "didn't take you as impatient."

"Oh, shut up."

Before, Tulsa was a bore. Teenagers that ran the streets wanting nothing more than to be accepted, wearing sweater vests and designer slacks, rough kids slicking their hair back to show pride. I didn't want to live somewhere were personality was defined by the amount of money you made, or the amount of power you had over someone else was decided by the family you were born into. It was full of fake people showing fake love and fake hate.

But it turned into something so much more. Hanson died. God, I was so naive. Idealistic is too nice of a word to describe myself. I was stupid. He knew he was sick. His son knew he was sick. I did, deep down, with his sunken eyes and the harsh changes. Tulsa was a bad memory because I'd never walk the 580 steps to that convenience store again.

It wasn't easy to go from dreaming to facing reality. But it was a pill I'd have to swallow.

"I promised you, didn't I? So quit worrying. You know, you worry a whole damn lot."

I should have worried more. It might have kept me from heartbreak. "Whatever, Winston. Where's this place you wanted to show me?"

"Couple more minutes."

"Alright."

Heartbreak was more like an identity crisis than anything. Once you got over the tears and mangled thoughts, at least. The only thing that propelled me forward was the thought of Hanson not wanting me to be hung up on it. That would be impossible, but I could at least get out of my room.

"Here," he pointed toward an opening of rocks.

I didn't know Dallas could be so sentimental. There was nothing more romantic than a waterfall under a setting sun. The ravine with slightly murky water was littered with stones, and bushes, amid a circle of trees where the leaves had all sorts of autumn colors. The placid area sounded like a light buzzing from afar, but the beating of the water was akin to an earthquake up close. I never knew Oklahoma could have such picturesque views: rocks like the color of fall, streaming water plummeting to the calm creek in curves. Even the green color of the river was beautiful.

"Dallas." I gaped.

"I knew you'd like it. You like these kinda things."

I wanted to ask who wouldn't like this, but I kept my trap shut instead.

"Come down with me." I grabbed his hand.

The rocks were slippery but I climbed down with caution until I stood on the pebbles lining the water. The waterfall seemed to echo through the rock walls. Dallas shuffled and tossed his jacket away.

"This has got to be the prettiest thing I've ever seen." I gave him a suspicious look. "You've got to be lyin'. There's no way you passed by here without coming down."

"Never had a reason to."

I believed that. Dallas was the type of guy that could look at something beautiful and barely give it a second glance. He didn't fuss over those sort of things. Landscapes, nature. He grew up on the rough New York streets, anyways.

"Take your shirt off," I said.

He raised his brows. "You sure it's even safe to go in there?"

"Only one way to find out." I slipped off my top and unbuttoned my jeans. Dallas shrugged and followed, stripping down to his boxers.

Normally I would have been apprehensive, but I trusted Dallas. It was strange that I trusted him more than anybody else.

The water was cold. It stung my toes all the way up to my midsection until I decided to tip-toe deeper into the water, just under my breasts.