My mood didn't improve when I got to the art store, a place that usually always calmed me. The thick, clean paper; the pencils, unused and waiting; the odds and ends; it was a cluttered chaos that fascinated me. But tonight, it was all a blur, as my main and rare objective was to get in, and get out. The rain had soaked me, which had at least gotten some of the soda out of my hair. Georgia's request had been an odd one, and it proved to be a difficult task to weave through the maze-like aisles to find them. Once I'd made the discovery that they were in the paper aisle, feeling as though I'd just found Atlantis, I attempted to get back to the front of the store, dodging feather boas and tipsy stacks of boxes and felt.
I'd gone through almost all of the aisles in search and found them to be vacant, so when I came to one that wasn't, I had to back up due to curiosity. I had no idea if it was luck, but there she was, inspecting the shelves of journals with a casual, yet determined expression on her face. Julia's hair was tied up in a damp ponytail, a few rebellious curls falling out. Even though I didn't know her very well, I knew he was the kind of person to select the pale yellow hoodie she was wearing out of her closet, perfectly aware of the darkness outside. That made me kind of smile, the thing that invited her to look up and smile back at me.
"Mason." She said, with the kind of enthusiasm you couldn't fake. "I remember you."
It struck me as unusual, yet kind of wonderful that she looked happy to see me, as we barely knew each other.
"No books this time?" I said, my attempt at charm not working very well.
"I like to keep them out of the rain when possible." She said, laughing lightly. Her eyes found the crayons on my hand. "Keeping in touch with your inner two-year-old?"
I looked down at them, remembering what I came here for in the first place.
"My sister was demanding art supplies-"
"And you were the designated driver?" She shook her head, grinning. "I know how that goes. My brother can't ever seem to have enough bubbles."
I laughed at the oddity if it, growing happier every minute.
She leaned closer to me, smelling my shoulder.
"I'm sorry," she said sheepishly. "But is that . . . orange soda?"
I sighed. "Yeah, it's . . . It's a long story."
"I can imagine. Hey if you show up on any Florida orange juice commercials, remember I want a bottle."
I liked how she was making fun of the situation, brushing off as nothing. Why couldn't I do that?
"I'll try to remember that. Did you get to the sad part of The Book Their yet?" I asked.
She eyes sparkled. "Not yet. You're scaring me! Is it really sad?"
I nodded. "It's pretty bad, but you see it coming."
"I'll buy some more tissues, then." She laughed, glancing down at the small stack of journals in her hands. She looked at me.
"Which one do you like the best?"
There was an old, worn looking one with a heavy, brown leather cover; a thin, red, paper back one, with a picture of a hot air balloon on it; and a teal one with a picture of two birds on a telephone wire. I had no idea what had gone through her head when she selected these, as they were so different from each other.
"I like the balloon one." I said with a smile. Julia set the others down in rejection and held it up, standing next to me.
"I approve." she said laughing.
We found our way back to the register together, the older woman behind the counter eyeing us with suspicion. On her way up, Julia grabbed a pack of Twizlers at the last minute. I paid for the crayons, feeling the stare of the cashier on me.
As we were walking out, a loud, angry clap of thunder rattled the walls. Julia jumped about a foot, looking out the windows with wide-eyes.
"Don't like thunderstorms?" I asked.
She shook her head. "Well, no, and I don't like them at this particular moment, as I walked here."
I bit my lip, thinking of how I must be late for my salty dinner already, and I had no time to drive her home. This is what I should have been thinking when I said this:
"I can drive you home, if you want."
She looked at me, narrowing her eyebrows, as if she was trying to see into my brain. Her expression lightened.
"I couldn't ask you to do that."
"I don't mind, really. I wouldn't . . . wouldn't want you to walk home alone in the rain."
"Well okay then. As long as you're not a serial killer or anything." I laughed, No, Julia. That's what I thought you were.
Before we were out the doors, she put her arm out in front of me, putting her hood up.
"Which car?" she asked intensely.
I hesitated, my eyebrows coming together.
"Why?"
"Just which car?"
"Blue Cadillac."
She bolted out the door as another clap of thunder rumbled above our heads. I ran after her, wondering what I've gotten myself into. She slipped into the passenger seat seconds before I got behind the wheel, feeling winded.
Julia gave me a sheepish smile.
"Sorry, I just . . . hate thunderstorms."
I was still trying to catch my breath. "My sister is too. I'm used to it."
After a few seconds getting onto the main road and the radio playing softly in the background, I saw her looking around herself out of the corner of my eye. She could've moved an inch and I would've noticed: I'd gotten in the habit of glancing at her too much, but I hardly considered it a bad thing.
"This is a really nice car." she said, sounding impressed.
"It's my parents'."
"My grandpa used to sell cars before he retired. I know a lot about them."
"I know."
She gave me a look clearly stating that she wanted me to elaborate.
"I do yard work for your grandparents." I said, grinning.
She looked relived, as if she really did think I was a serial killer prior to getting in the car.
"Oh yeah, they've told me. You're parents are the Gray's right?"
"Uh, yeah. That's them."
"Turn left." she said, even though I knew the way.
A flash of branch-like lightning lit up the darkening sky in front of us. I glanced at her, and found it impossible to look away. Her eyes were wide, peering up apprehensively through the windshield at the sky. They were a deep blue, like the ocean.
"That's so pretty." she murmured softly, her eyes still trained to the place where the flash had been.
"Never seen lightning before?" I asked.
She smirked. "I'm usually hiding in my closet." I laughed. She smiled wider. "That guy on the news channel said that it wasn't supposed to rain." she said, sighing.
I knew that this really wasn't the time to express my mutual annoyance of the local weatherman, and casually adding in that I lived with him. So I just kept quiet.
I felt the silence growing awkward and was about to say something until she beat me to it.
"This is such a good song." she said, turning the radio up a tad. Of course, the pretty girl sitting in my car loved the same song that I loved.
"You like OneRepublic?" I asked skeptically.
"They're one of my favorites." She said. "I hate all that mainstream stuff."
"Same here."
We smiled at each other before I pulled into her driveway.
"Thanks for the ride." She said. "I'll see you around."
"No problem." Something in me snapped as I watched her leave.
"Wait!"
She was about to close the car door, but stopped. "Yes?"
I looked down, my insides squirming. Looking up I found her smileing lightly with expectance.
"There's a new Barns and Noble in Middletown . . . would you want to go look around . . . with-with . . . me?"
She looked pleasantly surprised, assuring me that I hadn't said anything horrible.
"I'd love to." She said, grinning. "Six?"
"I'll be here." I said breathlessly, having an urge to throw confetti in celebration.
She gave me one last smile as she ran to the house through the now light rain.
Thanks for reading!
