*Cora*
That weird summer boredom had officially sunk in. We'd made it over halfway through the summer and it was the point that we realized school was starting up soon. It's that time when you run out of things to do, but you still want to do something.
Elle was vacationing with her mom in Brazil and I was left at home with no other friends and parents who worked crazy hours. What was she thinking, not taking me with her?
No, I don't really think she should have taken me with her, but at this point having something to do would be worth the complete and total intrusion.
I was going stir crazy in this stupid house. It was huge, it was nice, and it was boring as crap. I had every luxury I could ever really want, but they were no fun when you didn't have an Elle to share them with.
Knowing that sitting on the couch staring at the TV or my phone was just going to make the boredom worse, I decided to get up and go do something.
I made my way to my room and grabbed my phone off the bed. I never felt the need to have it with me at all times because I only ever talked to Elle and, at the moment, she was probably zip lining through the tropical rain forest and meeting hot Brazilian guys.
Yeah, I'm not salty at all.
I didn't rush getting ready. I threw on some clothes and curled my hair into thick, big curls. I never did that, and it was nice to see how good it looked. I took the most time with my makeup, being sure to apply everything as Elle had carefully instructed me to do. Elle would've been proud of my effort today.
I had no timetable for the day, and I was glad because it was closing in on 11 am before I was ready to leave.
Stepping out my front door and locking it behind me, I looked back and forth down the street before I realized that I wouldn't be seeing Elle's car coming to pick me up.
Sighing, I pulled out my phone to call a cab. I didn't want to, but it was a really long walk.
I had also convinced myself to wear the outfit I'd gotten with Elle that day last week at the beach. I decided to never tell her that I was wearing it voluntarily because I could already hear the loud "I told you so!" coming from her if I did.
I never used to understand why girls wore this kind of stuff, but now I do. Wearing this, I felt confident. Not confident to, say, start twerking on the beach, but confident enough that I could walk around with my head up and meet people's eyes. I've never been able to do that.
I had the cab drop me off on the edge of town and started trudging through the streets. Thanks to the summer heat, I was already regretting the decision to come out today.
I sighed again and kept walking.
***
"Oh. My. Gosh. That looks incredible on you!" The lady gushed. I would've been flattered if I hadn't been trying so hard to hold back extreme laughter. The lady sounded like Janice from "Friends" and I couldn't handle it.
I was in this weird little boutique called La Vie and was trying on a selection of overpriced French-themed clothing. Elle and I always went to the mall, so I took this time by myself to hit all the little stores in LA that we never visited, and it turns out that I love little stores like La Vie.
It was the name that caught my attention to start. La Vie. Life. I love French sayings and la vie and mon ami have always been two of my favorites.
I spun in front of the full length, tri fold mirror and smiled. Janice was right, the dress did look incredible. It was a plain black halter top that hugged every curve perfectly and had a blue, teal, and purple swirly skirt that spun out fabulously when I twirled. I wanted it so bad.
I checked the price tag and my mouth fell open as my eyes were assaulted with a phone number instead of a price. I should've expected that I'm in a boutique in downtown LA, not some mall in the suburbs.
My movement immediately became more ginger, moving with an ease so as not to hurt the dress. I slid back over to the dressing room, thanking Janice, and slipped the dress off.
I was about to put it back when I realized that I could actually get this. My parents had given me a credit card a few years ago to spend whatever amount I wanted at any time. I had never used it. They both believed that giving me thousands of dollars to spend was the equivalent of spending time with me, actually parenting, and making up for the accident, and I never felt like encouraging that. I had only kept the card for emergencies but had yet to actually put it to use.
A thought hit me as I was looking at the dress in my hand. They never knew if I used the card or not. They never checked and they were rich, so they paid someone else to do their finances, getting updates on the important accounts, which, thanks to lack of use, mine was not.
I got the dress. It was an impulse buy with money I swore I'd never touch, but I didn't care. I changed into the dress in the bathroom of La Vie and walked out of the store feeling like the thousands of bucks I just spent.
The rest of the day followed unremarkably, and I found myself sitting at a little coffee shop hours later eating a panini for dinner.
I was people watching more than anything though. Before my parents were the rich folks they are today, it was a family hobby. We'd sit somewhere busy and just watch all sorts of people walk by. Dad and I would always make up stories about each person while Mom watched and shook her head. She always laughed because Dad and I shared the same sense of humor and could make up almost the same story about the same person without knowing the other had done the same.
I found myself doing the same thing today. A miserable looking man walked quickly by in a business suit and tie with a briefcase and my brain got to work.
Bill Spaulding. 46. Married. Works in stocks and hates every second of it. He's running late on his way home today because he got caught up at work and is rushing home to see his beautiful pregnant wife. He missed his bus though, so he's pissed.
I grinned. Not bad for not having done this in years.
A beautiful woman walked by at a snail's pace clinging to the arm of what had to be an 80-year-old man who was wearing a smile that showed how happy he was to be with her.
Martin Worthington and Candi Cane. 84 and 23. He wants beauty and she wants money. The perfect relationship. They met at a strip club on the south side of town. She was a stripper and he was lonely after his wife of 40 years passed away. One thing led to another and...
I grinned. Dad would be proud.
I sat for there for half an hour before I decided to leave. It was about quarter after 8 at this point and I had a hard time believing that I'd been out on my own for nine hours and actually had a fun day.
I was wandering around, starting on my way home when I rounded a corner to the backside of a strip of stores and restaurants and saw a guy pull a girl out of a restaurant by her elbow. I could barely see the name of it, and from the few tables I could see through the window, it was fancy. The only thing I could see about the name was the font and I seriously doubted that I could pronounce it.
Hey, I know French, not whatever that curly scrawl is.
They guy started to say something but paused and moved the girl from the light of the restaurant into the shade by the next building before he continued talking. I crept forward a few more steps, just wanting to get past them and head for home, but I didn't want to intrude. Judging by their body language, the girl seemed put off and horribly offended and the guy seemed... happy? relaxed?
It was an odd image and I didn't want to get myself into trouble.
Then, even as I watched, the girl slapped the living crap outta the guy. Like, his head whipped back and forth hard.
Somehow though, his head came to a stop and I saw a very out of place grin situated on his lips.
"I guess that's a bye then?" he said. That voice, though. It was so familiar.
"You're a douche." the girl replied.
The dude let out a deep resonating laugh that lasted for several seconds, then shrugged and said, "'Kay. Bye." He turned on his heel and starting marching away from her, not literally that would be really odd. Can you imagine if he had though? That'd be funny.
But no, instead he started walking straight as yours truly, swinging on a hoodie as he went. He pulled the hood up to shade his eyes and something about the action struck me. Like listening to a song from your childhood that you haven't heard in 15 years and you don't remember it, but you do remember it. This was like that.
I panicked. I couldn't move thanks to being frozen with fear because he had to know that I'd just heard and seen everything and would think that I want to do something about it which, of course, I didn't.
In fact, I had no wish to be anywhere near the guy.
My mouth disagreed with my brain though and just as he started to pass me on the sidewalk, I spat out "You shouldn't be that rude."
He stopped dead. "What?"
I must've drank my courageous juice this morning or something because I actually had the nerve to repeat myself. Well repeat myself... and then some. "I said that you shouldn't be that rude, you jerk."
He looked at me for a long time. I assume that he was trying to gauge if I was being serious or not. Well, I was.
His look of curiosity was replaced by a small sneer. "Just fuck off," he said quietly and in a low voice that was, might I say, quite sexy and yes, I swear I do know how messed up that sounds.
"Now see that's what I mean!" I exclaimed. I've no idea why I kept trying to talk to him. He was a lot bigger than me which already made me slightly scared and then there was the small part that I was telling him off. I tried to remember taking a bath in that courageous juice this morning. I didn't remember it. It was just the familiarity of him brought out some unheard bravery in me.
He stared at me for another minute before an expression I didn't know came over the few features I could see. Even now, the more I looked, the more familiar he seemed. "What?" I said defensively. "There might be little old ladies around who take great offense at words like that!" When he continued to stare, I continued, "Or! Or there could be small children and you'd be giving them a truly awful role model!" The second the words left my lips, I knew how dumb they sounded. We were literally the only two people around for miles.
Still he stared.
I began to worry that I had turned green or something and looked down at my hands which were still entwined in my bag from La Vie. Nope, still pale pink.
When I looked back up, the guy was still staring at me and my courage left me.
"Sorry," I muttered. "Don't kill me."
Ever so slowly, he reached a hand up and pushed back his hood and I found myself looking into his beautiful blue eyes.
"Want to tell me why I want to kill you, Pip?"
~~~~~~~
A/N: ooooo look drama!
fun fact: mon ami is french for "my friend" and ami is male while amie is female.
so enjoy and comment and vote please and thanks :D