Not That Girl

Chapter 11

As soon the bell goes off, I'm out the door. The next thing I know, I'm out of breath as the doors to the school's entrance swing shut behind me. I don't think I've ran that much since tenth grade gym. I collapse onto the curb, burying my face in my hands

Even though the sun is out, the mid-April air is deceptively chilly. Isn't it supposed to be Spring? Unfortunately, in my mad dash to escape any potential inquisition I hadn't thought to grab my coat from my locker. Given if I did, it would've created the possibility of Peyton cornering me.

In hindsight, running away was probably not the best idea. Actually, I take that back. It was the worst possible idea. What happened really wasn't that bad. Mowing down hoards of freshmen while trying not to cry was probably a whole lot worse.

I decide to let myself wallow in my self-pity for a bit, figuring I'll wait for the hallways the clear out and just sneak into second period a bit late. I don't know how long I've been sitting there when I notice a figure standing in front of me, blocking the sun.

He clears his throat before he speaks and I look up at him.

"Do you wanna go for a ride?"

---

Brayden doesn't tell me where we're going and he doesn't ask if I am okay. We drive in complete silence for nearly fifteen minutes before he pulls into an almost vacant gas station.

"There are closer gas stations," I tell him. We passed at least two on our way here.

"I know," he responds before parking. "Wait here."

He leaves me in his truck before heading inside the shop. A few minutes later, he returns clutching a receipt and a roll of mints. He backs out of the parking stall and drives around to the back of the building, pulling up next to the keypad in front of a large garage-style door with the words 'Fully Automatic No-Touch Car Wash; printed on the outside.

"We're here for a car wash?"

"Yup." He rolls down his window and reaches out to punch in the number on the receipt onto the keypad. "Make sure your window's closed."

I reach down and turn the window crank until it won't budge. Brayden finishes putting in the code and does the same. The door opens and the truck creeps inside, he carefully drives up to the stop line before putting it into park. He tugs on the window crank one more time before relaxing back into his seat and turning to me as the water starts.

"I'm so glad I could come accompany you on your errands." I have to raise my voice a bit to be heard over the jets spraying the sides of the car.

"I'm skipping second period for this," he smirks. "Thought you would at least be a little more grateful."

I look straight into his eyes, holding them for only a second before rolling mine as deliberately as I can. Taking time to complete the full 360 degrees before speaking. "We're only here because you skipped first period."

"I had a spare," he shrugs. "The whole team does for-" he makes air-quotes "-Conditioning and Fitness."

"Is that why you were all able to invade my Calc class a few days ago?"

"Yup." He turns and watches the windshield is covered by bubbles of white soap.

"It looks like snow,"

He nods, keeping his eyes fixed on the windshield as the suds melt away with a spray of water.

"Why are we-"

"Shh," he interrupts. "This is the best part."

The car is covered with a thin layer of foam. Little blobs of full pastel pink, yellow and blue coat the windows. It kinda looks like fruit loops.

Brayden turns to me, grinning. "I paid extra for the tri-colour foam."

The inside of the truck is darkened. The light from the windows is filtered through the colourful sheen. It almost feels like we're living inside an Instagram filter.

Brayden basks in it and I take a moment to get a good look at him. His sandy brown hair flops over his eyebrows, the colour appears duller with the filtered lighting. The grin on his face has softened and his eyes slowly pass along the windshield, like he's tracing the rainbow blobs with his mind. Taking the time to watch how each one melts into the next.

Suddenly, the bubbles are blasted away by another jet of water. They mix together into a gross grey, like sea foam on a badly polluted beach.

Finally, the truck is surrounded by one last rinse. This one has none of the force of the others. The water falls like raindrops during the worst two minutes of a cloudy day. Where people on the street with umbrellas go into stores where they don't intend to by anything but are just seeking shelter for the brief time until the downpour lessens.

The dryer starts whirring and flashing lights tell us to move forward. A timer on a screen starts counting down from 60 and we slowly drive through.

The remaining drops on the windshield run towards the top as they're blasted by the dryer.

The harsh sunlight of the outside is a shock so I shield my eyes. By the time I adjust and open them again, Brayden's turning back on to the main road.

"So, what was that for?" I ask.

"Hmm?"

"The car wash."

"Oh," he exclaims. "Did you like it?"

How am I supposed to respond to that?

"I mean, I'm sure your truck is squeaky clean now."

"That's not what I asked." We reach a stoplight, he flips his indicator on before turning towards me. "I asked if you liked it."

And he looks at me with such focus, like I might spontaneously combust if he turns away. He waits for my answer like a man down on one knee with shaking hands.

"I did."

He exhales without making any sound and the corners of his mouth sneak into a smile. "Good."

His gaze fills with contentment and still stays fixed on me. Like I just lit up his entire world and it's hard not to think that in this moment it's me.

And that's what it is: a moment. The type you talk about with your friends when you can't find the words to describe how electricity filled the air and muted everything else around you.

I ruin it. "The light's changed."

He snaps out of it quickly and scans the intersection. He's careful and thorough as he turns left but I can't help but notice how his focus lacks something from the way he looked at me.

When we reach the school, he drops me off at the front before going to park because of course he does. This boy eats 'polite' for breakfast and farts out 'chivalry' in his sleep.

I ran out of the school for time to think. But by the time I walk back through the doors, I've only figured out one thing: there's a chance that I might like Brayden Erickson just a tiny bit.