Blue-Eyes is still a little butt-hurt and frosty when I climb into the passenger seat of his ink-colored mustang the next morning, though I have to admit, the injury is very well hidden. He greets me with his usual, "Good morning, babe. You look stunning today," and he even flashes me a crooked smile as I buckle my seat belt.
But I can still see the annoyance that clouds his vivid baby blues, and tugs at the corners of his lips.
That and the tense, metaphorical elephant that sits between us kind of takes up most of the car space.
The ride to school is remotely quiet, and when we pull into the usual parking spot, he is quick to wrench the key from its slot and climb out of the car. I linger, thumb pressing into the little red button that releases my seat belt, and try not to be as obvious as I watch him round the front of the car. He holds his hand out for my backpack as I open the door and start to climb out. I pass it to him as I pull myself free of the car, and then frown as he starts to shoulder it.
"I can hold my backpack now," I remark as I slam the car door shut. The hollow memory of metal against the insides of my arms haunts me; I feel so bare without my crutches.
He wordlessly holds out the backpack and I worm my arms through the straps.
His hand slips into mine and we walk toward our first period class. My stomach churns nervously as we approach the doors to the building; we are a good five minutes early, which gives us plenty of time to make out in our usual spot. But as we near the door, and the silence between us becomes oppressing, a small shard of worry prickles my gut. I have a feeling that Blue-Eyes doesn’t really feel like a passionate make out session this morning.
His hand grasps the door handle, and he holds the door open for me. I step inside, and then pause a few steps in for my boyfriend. I shiver at the sudden onslaught of cold air, and my gaze flickers around the hallway. It lands on our usual spot; the small alcove between two sets of lockers. Blue-Eyes squeezes my hand and we start walking again.
My suspicions are confirmed when we stroll right past the usual make-out spot and continue on toward the classroom. I press my lips into a firm line. He holds the door open for me once again, and the troll sitting behind his desk actually has the audacity to feign a surprised expression.
"Well," our teacher lets out a throaty gasp, complete with a palm pressed to his chest for dramatic flair, "Look who actually showed up on time!"
I ignore the old fart and slink toward my seat, as graceful as the giant boot I’m forced to wear will allow. I slide into it and slip my backpack from my shoulders. Blue-Eyes snatches the seat in front of me, and almost immediately whirls around to look at my face. He shoots me a cheeky grin and I arch an eyebrow.
"What?" his tone is coated with innocence.
"Nothing," I shrug slightly.
The rest of the morning passes in a fuzzy, disappointing blur, as Blue-Eyes continues to keep a good two foot space between our bodies at all times, like a nun at a formal dance. He walks me to every single class, and his fingers are always intertwined with mine, and, like normal, I find myself loathing the idea of parting with him –even though he refuses to kiss me anywhere else other than my cheek.
And after each parting, I find myself doodling in my notebook while my teachers prattle on about unimportant topics, trying to ignore my gut’s desperate scream for attention. Something is very wrong, and a tiny voice in the back of my head is convinced that it’s because of last night. Now that I think about it, I was so stupid last night. He is probably going to break up with me soon, and the distance is just something to make it easier for him.
So I decide to confront him about it at lunch, as we sit across from each other in the back of an old, country-style diner –complete with chipped honey-wood chairs and doily-covered tables. I fiddle with my napkin in my lap.
If he’s going to try to dump me, then he’s going to have to grow a pair and rip the Band-Aid off now.
“Seth,” I start, and then trail off with a cough as a bundle of nerves seizes me. I avoid his questioning gaze, my eyes glued to the bubbles of brown soda sitting on a snow-flake like doily in front of me. I sip on the straw.
He clears his throat, and then presses the tips of his fingers together in front of his mouth. He’s waiting for me to continue, I realize. So I sigh and steel my nerves, gesturing toward the space between us, “What is this?”
“It looks like a table, but I'm not one hundred percent sure...”
I ignore the urge to roll my eyes and lean back in my chair, its hard wooden rods pressing into my back. I cross my arms over my chest. “No,” I meet his gaze, “What’s with the space…the coldness. Before last night you always touched me.”
“Well,” his lips twitch back into a small smile, “That was before I learned that you didn’t want to be touched. And who am I to disrespect my lovely girlfriend’s wishes?”
I scowl at him, “You didn’t have to go overboard. I don’t mind making out in the hallway, or playing footsie under the table.”
Blue-Eyes is silent for a while and the waitress decides to meander over with our plates; mine a porcelain affair with painted blue-lace decoration and a mountain of mashed potatoes, and crispy chicken fingers. I drown my potatoes in the thick gravy offered with my plate, and Blue-Eyes shoves a fork into his cheesy pasta.
The second I take a giant bite of chicken, Blue-Eyes decides to speak up. "I'm sorry," he says, as his fork gently clicks against his plate. He stares at his own weird, flowery patterned doily beneath his drink.
My stomach immediately drops through my feet, and the chicken in my mouth becomes inedible. I force myself to swallow the mush and lift my head. This is it. This is where he's going to break my heart into tiny little pieces.
"I've been acting like a real jerk lately," he continues with a tight-lipped frown. "I've been really selfish and kind of focused on something else today. I didn't mean to come across frosty, Al."
I stare at him like he's sprouted an extra head.
"You mean you're not going to break up with me?" The shock-coated words fumble past my lips before I can completely understand what is happening, and his expression morphs into a mixture of horror and disgust.
"No!" his voice rises into an appalled shout. "Did you honestly think I was? Just because you don't feel comfortable moving forward in our relationship? Alice, I'm not that kind of guy!"
I press my lips into a skewed line. I've totally messed this up now.
His fingers rub agitated circles into his temples. He mutters several unintelligible things beneath his breath and then lets out a sigh, "Alice, I would never do that to you, and I'm sorry that I made you think that. I just," he let out a groan and rubbed at his face, "I keep messing this up. I'm sorry, I'm nervous."
"That's my line," I snort softly.
He glances up, an eyebrow arched. I shake my head and gesture for him to continue babbling on with my wrist. The relief is still blissfully sweet in my veins, and I'm curious to see what he's so nervous about.
A thin smile stretches across his lips, "Can you wait until tonight?"
"Not really," I take a small bite of my chicken.
But I somehow manage to do it anyways. If he can handle waiting a good six or so months to get me into a bed, then I should be able to wait a few hours for nighttime to stretch across the sky. School is once again just a blur --only this time, he does a little more then just hold my hand between classes.
Once we're free of the legal eight hours of torture, Blue-Eyes speeds toward whatever unknown destination he has planned. I rest my cheek against my fist, elbow propped against the armrest attached to the passenger side door of his car. I don't even bother asking him, as he refused to tell me whenever I asked during school. Rock music blasts through the speakers on the dash, and Blue-Eyes mumbles along to the smooth chorus as he drives.
It's kind of entertaining, considering he sounds like a dying walrus.
"Let's go drop your stuff off," he announces suddenly, as the car pulls into my driveway. I feel my eyebrows crinkle in confusion. He puts the car into park but doesn't cut the engine as he unbuckles his seat belt and climbs from the car.
I flounder out after him and we walk toward the front door. I unlock it and throw it open, stepping inside and aside so he can follow. He doesn't bother shutting it behind him, and I frown when he disappears around the corner.
"What the heck is he doing?" I grumble to myself as I toss my backpack to the ground, watching it fall into an unattractive lump beside the door.
Within seconds Blue-Eyes reappears around the bend and grabs my arm, "Alright, let's go," he says to me with a chuckle at my bewildered expression. Then he calls back to my mother, "Thanks again! I'll have her home before eight."
I skewer him with my eyes as he leads me back toward the car, and we climb back in. "What are you doing?" I voice my earlier thoughts as the car rolls down the driveway.
"You'll see," he shoots me a nervous grin. He remains silent as he drives, and I mildly glare at the side of his face for a while before turning my attention toward the scenery flashing by my window. The blurry buildings have become sparse and spread out, and I can see flashes of ocean blue between them. We must be driving adjacent to the beach, I decide.
"Are we doing something on the beach?" I ask, returning to my favored position while trapped within his car: my head propped up by my palm, elbow pressing into the arm rest. Blue-Eyes hums in response, the sound neither a confirmation or a denial. I scowl, "You know I live like right on the beach. We could have just done this in my backyard."
He doesn't answer at all this time.
Another long wave of silence passes between us as the minutes ticking by turn into a solid hour, and I mutter under my breath, "Help. I'm being kidnapped by my crazy boyfriend."
Blue-Eyes snorts, "I wouldn't have taken you home first if I was. Your mother knows you're with me," his eyes flicker toward me, clouded with amusement. "She's crazy. I wouldn't want to get on her bad side."
"True," I grin at him.
He smiles back and the tension starts to ease away as I keep him talking, careful to avoid anything having to do with his plans for tonight. We drive around for a little while longer, into parts of Daytona that I'd never seen before, until he pulls into a small sandy square of parking spots. He takes up several slots, parking at an awkward angle, and then cuts the engine.
"Really?" I shoot him an unimpressed look.
"What?" he crinkles his eyebrows at me as he unbuckles his seat belt and starts to get out of the car.
"Your parking sucks," I climb out and crinkle my nose at the salty air that assaults my nostrils.
He ignores my comment and rounds the front of the car, holding his hand out for me. I press my palm into his and we start walking toward beach. The weathered wooden walkway between the beach and the parking lot creaks as we make our way across it, and then we step down into the snow white sand. I swear I sink several inches.
We walk around for a while, watching the waves crash into the shore and then fizzle out like carbonated soda. Our hands dangled in between us, fingers curled around each other like a lifeline.
I shoot him a sideways glance after a while of peaceful walking, "Alright. Seriously, where are we going?"
"Do you like seafood?" is his answer.
I actually don't, but he ignores me when I voice my opinion.
He drags me toward a long expanse of dark wood in front of us, and as I get closer, I realize that it is a pier, crowded with tacky, colorful restaurants. We stop inside one and are seated almost immediately, by an overly friendly waiter. We're lead to a crooked booth outside, one that hovered over the water. I stare at my boyfriend with suspicious eyes as he glances through the menu, avoiding my gaze.
The waiter takes forever to come over and ask for our drink, despite the fact that the place is practically devoid of people. I drum my fingers atop the table and stare out into the sea, watching the sun as it inches closer to the water.
"You seem irritated," Blue-Eyes sounds worried.
I glance at him, and make a face. "I'm not irritated. Just...thirsty, I guess. And I'm not very fond of surprises. I have no idea what's going on and what to expect."
He cracks a thin smile, "At least you know I'm not going to dump you now, right?"
I harrumph.
The waiter appears then, holding two iced glasses of brown soda. He sets them down in front of us and I squint at the cup. He disappears before I can ask him anything. "How did he know I wanted a soda?" I ask my boyfriend.
Blue-Eyes laughs a little sheepishly and scratches at the back of his head. His response is muffled and I don't understand it at all. I sigh and take a sip of my drink. "You're so weird," I grumble under my breath.
He flashes a grin. "You love it."
I mumble a response and sit back in my seat. It's almost night time; the sun has already kissed the ocean, and waves of sherbet orange dance across its surface. My attention tears away from the view as the waiter bustles over to our table, and covers it in an arrangement of candles. My eyebrows crinkle and I glance up at Blue-Eyes, taking in his expectant expression. He's focused on the waiter.
My eyes narrow at the waiter. The strange man is in on whatever Blue-Eyes is hiding from me.
The waiter smiles gently in my direction as he lowers the last of the candles. He waves a lighter over each wick, and the candles sparkle to life. Then he lowers a tray of cookies down in front of me and passes a bouquet of roses to Blue-Eyes.
"Enjoy," the waiter beams at us, and then vanishes back into the main part of the restaurant.
"What's this?" I frown at the display set out before me.
Blue-Eyes presses his lips together into a tight line. His face flushes with a ruby-red blush as he gestures toward the candles. My gaze follows his hands, and as I peer closer, my eyes widen. The tops of the wide, creamy white candles are covered in a splash of black and red glitter, including sequin-covered letters, spelling out the word, "Homecoming?"
My lips stretch back into a wide grin, and I look up at Blue-Eyes, "Really?" I press my palm against my mouth as my gaze becomes blurry. "I'd love to," I giggle and gesture toward the arrangement before me, "This is the sweetest thing anybody has ever done for me."
"I'm sorry for being so weird today," he blushes, and then holds out the bundle of bright red flowers. "I just didn't want to blow it. I'm horrible at keeping secrets."
I giggle and take the roses, pressing my nose into the multitude of soft petals, inhaling the sweet scent. "It was totally worth it," I lower the flowers to the table and stand slightly, leaning across the barrier between us to press my lips to his.
He kisses back with an equal amount of passion, and I dissolve into a puddle of emotion and happiness.