Leading You Home

Second

Shifting my eyes, I catch a glimpse of Avery walking off with her friends. They surround her like bodyguards.

Relieved, I snicker and say, "Girl problems probably suck."

Bradley, stomping his cigarette out on the ground, smirks. "Only when you're good looking."

I give him a pointed look. "You're going to toss that out, right?"

"Now I know why we don't hang out much," he says, plucking the smashed cigarette off the ground and tossing it into the nearby trash bin. "You point out all my faults."

"Somebody has too whip you into shape," I quip, internally baffled by how comfortable we've become with joking with each other. "I mean, look at the kind of trouble you get into when I'm not around."

"Good point," he admits, sitting back down beside me. Then he gives me a sideways glance. "Did you say something about whipping?"

I let out a laugh and something makes a chiming sound. Reaching into his pocket, Bradley pulls out his phone. The screen lights up his face. Again, I wonder if I should leave. I wonder what time it is and if this headache will go away after I sleep, where ever I end up sleeping tonight.

There are dark clouds rolling toward us. Every year for as long as I can remember, it rains during the Turkey Festival a little while after the sun goes down. And when I say rain, I mean pours. This year, the forecast has given it a 50% chance.

Without a word, Bradley lifts his phone and shows me the screen. After my eyes adjust to the light, I see it's a message from Carrie.

You'll never know how to be in a lasting relationship. It's because you're a liar and a cheat.

Bradley groans angrily as he takes his phone back and begins to type a message. Secretly, I stretch my neck to look over his shoulder. As I do, I catch Bradley's scent of cigarettes and soap.

You don't even know my side of the story, dumb ass.

He erases the dumb ass part before hitting send.

"Wow," I say with a grin. "It sounds like you've decided the whole female population are complete dumb asses."

His eyebrows raise slightly. "It's not polite to read people's messages, Georgia."

I grab a lock of my hair. "Well, after you showed me the first one I had to see what you sent back," I say, shrugging. He chuckles and shakes his head.

"And, no. I don't think all females are dumb asses." He plucks another cigarette out of the box and lights it with a purple lighter. "I don't think you're a dumb ass."

After Bradley blows out the smoke, I watch it mangle and warp together as it flies higher and higher before disappearing.

"Really?" I say, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Yeah. You don't get wrapped up in it all," Bradley starts, gesturing toward the festival and the teenagers that infest it. "The he said, she said bullshit, the relationship drama. You know," he looks at me, "the stuff that no one should ever really care about in the first place." He leans back, takes a long drag from his cigarette, and blows it out. "And that makes you the most brilliant girl I've ever met."

I glance away and wrap my head around his words. "Thank you. But it's really not that hard to stay out of drama."

It's true. I'm a senior in high school and have never been in a fist fight. The only drama I'm ever in has something to do with me defending Carrie. That could easily be because of my lack of a social life though. I only ever went to dances because Carrie dragged me. I've been to parties but only because someone has to be Carrie's designated driver and sometimes, I don't even leave the car. That stuff is definitely more Carrie's element.