Saturday came, providing temporary relief from the amount of work I had piling up. The urge to make an excuse for the birthday party was strong but I figured a few hours wouldn't hurt. I'm an early morning riser so I got up and made good progress on my calculus homework. Calculus takes the most time because maths is my least favorite subject but my degree requires it. I'll save the coding homework for tomorrow. On top of homework, I was also assigned a ton of reading. The reading material is dense so I have to read it several times for it to sink in.
When it was time for lunch, I went outside to smoke and responded to a few messages I put off on responding. Rob reminded me of the party so I sent him a quick text telling him that I planned to stop by after I was done with the driving lesson.
She's close to ready. Today, I planned for her to drive on the motorway. She already knows how to drive on the motorway in America but I wanted her to get a feel for driving a manual transmission. It's a pain in the arse to drive when you're in stop and go traffic but it's the weekend so I figured it wouldn't be as bad. I was a bit early and texted her that I was here and got out of the car. I placed a cigarette in my mouth, lit it, and leant against the car. I never really took the time to study her neighborhood. We always left as soon as she got in. Which house does the cat live in? Footsteps in the distance caused me to snap back to reality and I was conflicted about finishing my cigarette as I didn't want to delay her any further.
"When did you start smoking?" she questioned, curious.
Despite knowing each other for almost half a year, I try not to smoke when I'm with her but she's caught me a few times. It wasn't that I was afraid she would disapprove; I just did it out of respect as most people don't like the smell.
"Ever since I was a young boy. Maybe 14 or 15," I answered. I've not thought about how long I've been smoking and the plan was to quit someday if I ever found the right person. Maybe it's her. "Just a few more minutes and I'm done, sorry."
She told me to take my time and stood there with her arms crossed, looking in the distance. I took the opportunity to look at her, studying her features. She doesn't wear flashy clothes nor wear a ton of makeup but she's effortlessly beautiful. There's a natural beauty that radiates from her—either that or I'm in too deep. I followed her gaze to what she was looking at but didn't see anything.
"What are you looking at?" I asked.
"I'm wondering where Atlas is." It took a split second to realize she meant the cat as I couldn't fathom who'd name their child Atlas.
"Oh, your boyfriend?" Her cheeks turned red at the memory and I chuckled, enjoying her reaction.
"Knowing me, I'll never have a boyfriend. I'll be a cat lady."
"Why's that? You're the sweetest person I know. There's no doubt someone will fall for you."
"Do you really think so?" she asked, surprised. I didn't answer but nodded my head, afraid I'd give myself away. "What about you? Do you think someone will love you?"
I shrugged my shoulders. My dream is to get married and have a family some day but I realize I've got things to work on. I've learnt a lot about myself through relationships and I don't always like what I see. It's difficult for me to express feelings because of my insecurities which baffles people as they see me as a confident person.
"Fuck if I knew. I'm not the easiest person to love."
"Why do you think that?"
"I've had past girlfriends tell me that."
Her smile went away and I wondered if she was thinking I had a string of relationships which couldn't be farther from the truth. Although I'm flirty, I don't go after every lass I fancy. I've only had two somewhat serious relationships, both of which didn't last very long. By the sound of things, Clara doesn't seem as experienced. Maybe she's had flings but it's difficult for her to hold a relationship.
"We're doing it wrong, aren't we?" I continued, grinning at our bad luck. "Tell ya what...if we're 27 and still single, we should just marry each other."
Clara's expression was unreadable. She didn't turn red in embarrassment nor did she laugh at my proposal. Her hazel eyes stared into mine as if wondering if I meant what I said. Telling her the truth about how I felt crossed my mind but something told me it wasn't the right time.
"W-We should get going. I've got that party later, remember?" I reminded her, discarding my cigarette. She was snapped from her trance and nodded her head.
We had previously discussed the plan for today so she went to the driver's side with ease, adjusting her seat and mirrors. Meanwhile, I sat down in the passenger seat. Last week, I went on the motorway and explained every step I took and this week, she was to take what I said and practice it. She started the engine and pulled onto the road, making her way to the motorway. She told me she wasn't worried about changing lanes or merging in traffic—more so shifting gears to higher speeds and getting stuck in stop and go traffic.
The entire ride there was silent. I took the time to think back to what I said. I'm not sure where that came from. I've heard of people making these pacts and love hearing stories about how it went. Some end in marriage while others end in heartbreak. What worried me most was how silent she got. Perhaps I should've said I was joking and that I actually didn't mean it. But you never joke about those things. A part of you always means it. You just laugh it off in fear of how the other person would take it.
Here I was sat next to her fretting that I've ruined our friendship for good. The way I asked about her relationship status, joked about her writing me a love letter, teased her about her "boyfriend," and made a marriage pact. She must be wondering where this came from. Perhaps she values our friendship so much that she's willing to put up with it. The fact that she's still here means something, right?
Although she's quite expressive, she's very good at keeping a straight face when it comes to feelings. I can usually tell if a lass is interested or not, but with her, I get mixed signals. It could be that she's trying to figure out how she feels about me. Love isn't black and white. I could see the motorway up ahead and she waited at the traffic light to get on, hand ready on the gear stick. There wasn't much traffic which was a relief.
When the light turned green, she shifted to first gear and pressed on the accelerator, slowly coming off the clutch. And when the speed was right, she shifted to second and then third gear. It was slow merging onto the motorway but she remained focus, keeping a good distance in front of her. Once we were on the motorway, she shifted to a higher gear and got comfortable staying behind a lorry.
"I want you to pass the lorry in front of us," I told her. "Remember what I taught you about passing a vehicle."
She nodded her head and downshifted to a lower gear, putting her indicator on. Once the coast was clear, she moved into the neighboring lane and pressed on the accelerator. She was overtaking the lorry and I looked behind me to see if the coast was clear. Her eyes moved to the rear view mirror and once she saw there was enough distance between us and the lorry, she put her indicator back on and moved back into the lane. Her foot went on the clutch and she shifted to gear four, then five.
"Well done," I praised, grinning.
We were nearing the city center where there will be more traffic. In the outlying areas, there's not much traffic which makes for an easy drive. There was a mass of cars up ahead so she shifted down a gear in anticipation of a slowdown. Luckily the slowdown was brief so she was able to shift up again.
"This is easier than driving in the city," she noted and I nodded my head.
"That's until you hit traffic. I still worry about stalling in stop and go traffic," I told her truthfully.
We were on the motorway for fifteen minutes before I told her to take the exit. She put her indicator on but there was a car in the neighboring lane so she waited for them to pass, taking her foot off the accelerator to coast. Once the car passed us, she switched lanes and her foot went back to the accelerator. She slowly downshifted and took the exit. It wasn't until we were nearing the stoplight that she shifted down into neutral.
"How was it?" I asked, checking on her.
"Not as bad as I thought!" she replied, amazed. Her hands were trembling but she gripped the wheel. "Where to next?"
"Why don't we go back home?"
We weren't familiar with this area so it took some turning around to get back onto the motorway and she did the same, practicing how to shift up and shift down. This time, I didn't have to ask her to pass the slow cars. She took it upon herself to pass them.
"Look at you overtaking grandad!" I teased and she laughed. She lost focus momentarily but kept her eyes on the road.
"Instead of going home, why don't you direct me to the party?" Clara suggested. I looked at her, surprised.
"I thought you didn't want to go."
"Yeah...well, I changed my mind."
I took my phone out and opened the text message from Rob containing his friend's address. I was surprised his friend lived in Warrington and unfortunately for us, we were heading in the wrong direction.
"Well if you wanna go, we're headed in the wrong direction. We have to exit."
We just passed an exit but we weren't in the right lane so she switched lanes and took the next exit. Eventually, we got on the right path towards Warrington. It was a bit of a drive so I thought I'd ask her why she changed her mind.
"What made you want to go?" I questioned. "I honestly thought you weren't going."
"You don't want me to go?" she asked, hesitant about her decision.
"No! 'Course not! I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't want you there." It was silent so I spoke again. "What're you gonna tell your parents?" She's usually home for dinner so I'm curious what she's going to tell them.
"I'll just tell them I'm eating out."
I was reminded of how she never told her parents about me. She always hid me from them and I don't know why. It reminded me of my first girlfriend who wasn't allowed to have a boyfriend. I was a horny teenager so I'd convince her to sneak out but eventually her parents caught on and were upset. We're not teenagers anymore. She shouldn't have to hide me.
"Do your parents know about me?" I asked. She shook her head no.
"I never told them about you."
"Why's that? Are you embarrassed?"
"No! Of course not. I just don't want them asking about you because that's what they'll do. They'll want to know everything about you and if they find something they don't like, they'll try to end our friendship. They've done it before and they'll do it again. My worst fear is losing you."