After waiting two very long days, it's finally Sunday. Yesterday, I had gone out to buy some more beer for momma so she can be happy when she returns. Well, if she returns. I used twenty of the eighty dollars Mr. Pretty gave me. That leaves me with sixty bucks plus the two hundred and three dollar paycheck I earned that I cashed in the other day. All for tonight—our date as friends.
I won't be spending every last penny, duh. But I brought some extra cash in case we have fun and choose to do something afterwards.
Since it's spring, the streetlights go on when it's fairly light out. What time am I supposed to be at the diner? Seven o'clock? Eight? Ten?
I would text him and ask, but I decided to not annoy him. Can't have him canceling on me, can I?
When it hit 7:30, I began my walk to the diner. It's about a forty minute walk, which means it'll be getting dark around the time I get there. Plus, I highly, highly doubt he is going to be early for this little date-as-friends.
What's it called?
A hang up?
Hang out, Athalia. Geezus.
Thank goodness it's nice out tonight. I'm wearing a white summer dress covered with tiny blue flowers, and a baby blue sweater. I was going to wear sandals, but decided against letting Levi see my unpainted toes for free, so instead I'm wearing white socks with blue ruffles at the top paired white high-top sneakers. I also brought along a cute little purse to hold money and my cherry lipgloss.
It's my favorite outfit to wear because it doesn't consist of sweatpants and sweatshirts and any other baggy piece of clothing. It makes me feel pretty.
Momma says it makes me an attention-whore. Whatever that is.
I reach town pretty quickly. It's still another fifteen minutes to the diner. The sky has darkened, but not very much. I keep myself distracted by humming Make It Shine from Victorious and trying my best not to step on any cracks.
I'd rather not have momma come home with a broken back.
My thoughts trail to her. I hope she's okay, wherever she is. The chances are slim, but maybe she's getting help somewhere. Besides, I should be thankful she's away. I haven't been beaten in a while, and the break feels nice. My bruises are healed, I had to conceal only a little bit of green under my eye.
Lost in my head, I nearly fall on top of a woman sitting on the sidewalk. "I am so sorry!" I say to her. She's frail, her hair graying. I notice the dirt on her hands.
Aw, she's homeless.
She glances up at me. "That's okay, pumpkin. I am in your way, aren't I?"
The lady scoots back against one of the many buildings in town, moving her cardboard spot and her quilt as well. My heart breaks for her.
"Here," I say, reaching into my purse. I pull out two hundred-fifty dollars, and hold it out for her. "Please, buy yourself some food and water. And maybe a thicker blanket."
She shakes her head. "Oh, wow. Thank you so much, dear. But I can't take that---"
"Yes, you can!" I tell her, motioning for her to take it. I give her my kindest smile. "You need it more than I do."
Besides, that leaves me with thirteen dollars. That's enough for two baskets of fries!
"Thank you," the woman voiced her gratitude again and again. "Thank you."
"I'm Athalia," I greet, putting out my hand to shake hers. She does, and I almost pull away at how cold it is. It's spring, nearly summer, but it's also Boston. The nights get cold.
"Rose," she says. She looks at my outfit, somewhat sadly. I feel bad that all she has is a ripped t-shirt and dirty sweatpants. "Look at you, pretty girl! Where are you off to?"
Shoot, I basically forgot about meeting Levi. Although, he's probably not even there yet. Plus, the diner is only about seven minutes away. "I'm on my way to a date! Well, it's not really a date," I correct myself. "We are almost friends."
"Is it a boy?"
"Yes. I don't know how old he is, so he's probably a man, not a boy, but—"
She laughs a little. It amazes me how she can have such negativity in her life but still be able to laugh. "Be on your way, dear. Tell me all about it when you come back around here someday."
I smile. "Gladly. Have a nice night, Rose!"
☆☆☆
Well, I was right. He was, in fact, not early.
Sitting in the booth closest to the door so that he can easily find me when he walks in, I fiddle with the ends of my dress.
Maybe I'm too early. Maybe he's busy. Maybe he forgot. Maybe something came up. Maybe he meant next Sunday, or maybe I heard him wrong and he actually said Monday.
Maybe he doesn't want to be my friend.
"Athalia, you don't have a shift today," Big D sighs as he comes to the table I sit at. He pauses when he sees that I don't have an apron on. "What're ya doing sittin' here alone..." He trails off when I give him a sad look. He quickly adds, "Without a menu?"
He grabs one and sets it before me. "Thanks, Big D," I say. "I'm waiting for someone."
"Ah, that boy, eh?"
"Yep," I tell him, popping the 'p'. "Honestly, Big D, I don't know if he's going to show up. I mean, I hope he does. I want to tell someone about the lady I met today—Ooo! Do you want to hear about the lady I met today?"
It doesn't really matter what he says, because I'm going tell him either way.
He purses his lips, and I know he wants to decline, but I smile when he sits down. "I have a feeling you would tell me even if I said no."
"She's a homeless woman," I begin. "I was walking here when I nearly fell on top of her because I didn't see her sitting on the sidewalk. I gave her some money, and I think her and I might be friends, Big D! She told me to come see her again. That means she wants to talk to me again, right?"
"Right," he nods.
"Isn't that exciting?"
"Supah." (Super).
I sigh happily, slouching in the booth. "I know! I can't even be very mad that Levi didn't show up--"
Big D cuts me off, pointing his thumb to the tall figure behind him walking in, "Ya mean that Levi?"
I peek behind him, noting tattoos, dark hair, and all-black attire. "Yes!" I whisper-shout. "Shoo, Big D! It's time for me to make a friend!"
He shakes his head at me, murmuring a "Good luck" before scooting out of the booth. He makes a gesture at Levi, and Mr. Pretty slides into the booth. Big D sets two menu's down on the table before hurrying off into the kitchen.
I want to ask many questions. What are you going to order? Why were you late? How come you weren't here when I got here? Why are you so pretty?
"How do you manage to get your hair to look so soft?"
Well. Didn't see that coming.
But it's true. How does he do it? Without even touching it, I can just tell that it's as soft as clouds. Is that weird? Nah.
He shrugs. "I don't fuckin' know."
"Okay," I say slowly, dragging the word out. No need to swear. "Why were you late?"
He looks at me through his lashes as he scans at the menu. "Why were you early?"
"I wasn't."
"You were."
I huff, crossing my arms. "Fine. What're you gonna order?"
Levi shrugs again.
Are you kidding me? It's like talking to a deaf person!
Wait, no, not deaf.
Mute.
"Want to know what I'm getting?" I ask with a big smile. Maybe he's in a grumpy mood and needs some cheerfulness to cheer him up.
He makes a face that I think says, You're gonna tell me anyways, so f(bad word) it.
"I'm getting chicken tenders and fries! The chicken tendies are actually our best item on the menu, if you didn't know that already. I suggest you get those, too. Then we can twin!"
He seems repulsed by the idea, but when the waitress, Frannie, comes, he orders two baskets of chicken tenders and two baskets of fries. One for me, and one for him.
"So, friend," I start, leaning forward, "Tell me about yourself."
If we are going to be best friends by the end of this hangout, then I best know almost every detail about himself. I can't be best friends with a stranger!
He leans forward, too, his elbows on the table. "What do you want to know?"
Our faces are awfully close to each other, but I don't pay attention to it. Instead, I pull out a list of questions and conversation starters I made last night from the little pocket of my sweater.
"Hmm," I say aloud. "Where do I start..."
☆☆☆
She brought a fucking list of questions to ask me. Never in my life have I been asked what color toothbrush I own.
"Question number 23," Athalia announces. "If you were a fruit, what fruit would you be?"
"Fucking none," I respond, putting a fry between my teeth.
She cringes at my language. "I think you're a...raspberry!"
"Fuck no."
"Frick yes!"
I roll my eyes. God, she's annoying. "You talk too damn much."
"You swear too dang much," is her reply.
She takes a moment to search her list, poking her tongue out as if it'd help find the best fucking question to ask me. But then she decides to put her list away, stuffing it into her purse.
"Your turn," she states.
I give her a confused look.
"Ask me questions!"
"Absolutely fucking not."
She juts out her bottom lip in a pout. She notices she still has fries left in her basket, and shoved a few in her mouth. Her attention span is fucking unbelievable.
She swallows, and asks in a weird deep voice, "What do you want to know?"
Is she fucking mimicking me?
"I don't want to know a damn thing," I snap. I couldn't care less about her. If nothing is forcing me to tolerate her, then I'm not going to.
I'm about to stand out of the booth, and she seems to catch onto the fact that I want to leave, so she quickly shoots out of her seat.
Some-fucking-how, she knocks over her lemonade.
Want to know where it spills?
All. Over. Me.
I stand from the booth, clenching my fists to refrain from punching something. It's a new fucking shirt. There's a stain on my new fucking shirt.
A noticeable one, by the way.
"Oh, no!" Athalia says. "I am so, so sorry, Levi! Here, let me—" She runs off to grab a few napkins. When she returns, she starts cleaning off my shirt herself.
For some reason, I don't tell her to stop. Now that she's close to me, I can smell her perfume.
She smells fucking amazing.
What the hell? Why do I care what she smells like?
I don't.
She smells like strawberries and vanilla.
Shit.
"I'm really sorry, Levi," she continues patting down my shirt, even though it doesn't do anything.
I grab her hand and pull it off of me, even though her touch was all I wanted to feel. That's fucking weird.
"I'll see you around, Quinn."
I hope I fucking never see her again.
Then why do I keep remembering her smell, even when I'm no longer in the diner, and instead sitting in my car while it rains?
If I don't want to see her again, why am I imagining her touch on my chest, her free hand wrapped around my arm as she tried to get rid of the lemonade stain?
Why can't I get her out of my head?
☆Authors note☆
I think my computer is getting hacked at the moment, so updates won't be coming very quickly :/
This was a fairly short chapter, but the next one will make up for it <3
Spoiler alert (me editing): it doesn't but it's okay. I promise I'm trying to make them longer lol it's just hard to write when life gets in the way.
Wait for the one, but don't wait for someone to be the one - JH Hard
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Word count: 2089