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Things leading to the festival passed pretty quickly, so quickly in fact most of it was done without our knowledge, Anna sent me and Ethan the exact spot in campus where our booth was to be set up and told us "not to worry about it". I have a feeling this girl is somehow in the mafia.

So when Ethan rolled around my house at seven thirty in the morning I couldn't get the feeling that we were getting set up for some sort of trick away from my stomach.

"What's wrong?" Ethan asked, turning left at the end of my street.

"Nothing, I just feel uneasy," I look down and notice two cups of coffee from a local gas station resting in the cup-holder, "wow, didn't take you as a caffeine freak, Ethan."

"Oh, one of them is for you, actually thanks for reminding me, French Vanilla, right? It's the one in front." He seems so unbothered by the fact that I'm about to break into a screaming parrot of sorts when I spell kind of squeal:

"Aww! You remembered my favorite flavor?" I grab the cup without much asking because you do not reject free coffee. I mean, you should probably reject free coffee if it's given to you by some old lady beckoning you into a dark alleyway in a stormy night and who seems to be surrounded by flesh-eating rats -- but even then I'm sure she has good intentions at heart.

"Well we've gotten coffee a couple of times it'd be rude if I didn't."

"I don't know your favorite type of coffee."

He smiles, "I don't really have one I'm more of a tea guy."

"Right, London fog, then?" The cup is still warm as I take a sip, it's gas station coffee so probably half of it is made out of sugar rather than coffee, but he remembered what I like , and that just makes me kinda giddy. Don't you dare judge me.

"Yeah, you see, you know me kind of well." We stop at a red light, morning traffic making the drive to school longer than usual, at a weird moment like this I feel like biking would have been a lot easier, but I have coffee and I'm in a car with a guy I like, so I wouldn't change that for speed if given the chance. I just want to make this last longer.

"Do, I? I'm sure there's a ton of stuff I don't know about you." I tease, slouching a bit on his seat. His car isn't exactly made for comfort, if I had to guess it's probably a twelve to fifteen year old model -- what brand? Papa Jesus knows, I have no idea, I'm no car person. It's not a Mustang , that's for sure, we're middle class college students, not random corporate children.

"Well, what do you wanna know?"

Do you want the V? I nearly laugh at my own self, which happens too often and more than once has embarrassed me publicly. Instead I drink from my coffee and pretend I didn't think what I just did or the images that might have spontaneously caused in my mind.

"Okay I do have a question, but it's kind of personal and I honestly don't know if you would like to answer it or not." Besides, we're not too far away from school now and while i am very curious, I'd rather him taking his time to explain than giving me a quick answer and not entirely understanding the meaning behind it.

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