The Two Month Bet

Staying Out

Im not going home. I'm not at all ready for the arguments, punishments and yelling.

So that's how I'm here; walking the streets of Gainesville at seven o'clock at night. I only know what time it is because I found my phone along with some wadded up bills in the pocket of these jeans.

For the past hour and a half I've just been walking around watching people, as creepy as that sounds. There are so many different kinds of people here.

In the short amount of time that I've been here I've already seen more than your normal amount of homeless man and wemen, the busy professionals going home from work, a select few tourists and about a hand full of families, most of which had crying children they were trying to take care of.

Its so different here. Where I live, there's no smoke making it hard for you to breathe, no noisy cars and busses, and definetly no hookers on the sides of buildings.

I might as well get a room for tonight...I'm not going home now..

Walking up to a bus stop, I check my phone and send Kat a text telling her that I'll be staying here for a little while to get away from things.

I check the bus schedule and, surprise surprise, it doesn't stop here for another half hour. Sighing, I sit on a bench near the bus stop and look for a nearby hotel that's not only cheap, but safe. Finding one that's about two miles away, I make an online reservation then close the tab to play a game of pINKy that I have absolutely no chance of winning.

After about only fifteen minutes or so, a boy about my age sits down next to me on the bench and puts his head between his knees. That's a thing people do when they're about to pass out, right? I watch him. He's breathing heavily, his coat rising up and down with his raggid breathing. His dyed white hair is touslled and little strands are sticking up, begging me to fix them. Pocketing my phone, I reach out and touch his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

The strangers body tenses up when I touch him and he lifts his head, staring at me with blood dripping down his cheek from a cut near his eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm good." He says, his voice cracking.

"Holy sweet honey iced tea...." I whisper, reaching out and touching the sticky blood dripping down his face. The stranger flinches again, then looks at me with a puzzled expression.

"What are you doing?" He breathes, watching me as I take off my make shift bandaid. I give him a small grin and scoot closer. "Fixing you." He stays quiet as I stick the paper towel to his eyebrow, my tounge poking out in concentration. Once I'm sure the 'bandaid' will stay in place, I take my sleeve and gently wipe the blood from his face.

"Thanks." The stranger smiles at me and looks down at the ground, hands clasped between his knees. "No problem," I tell him. "What's your name?" He gives a half hearted laugh and looks at me.

"No asking for an explanation? All you want is a name?" My smile falters and I look at the ground. I guess that was pretty dumb. "Adam. My name's Adam." I grin at him.

"My name's Eve." Adam's eyes widen dramatically and he shoots off the bench. "What?! Are you serious?!" He yells, his smile impossibly wide. I nod, grinning back at him.

He grabs my hands and pulls me off the bench, jumping up and down dramatically. I laugh, his sudden change of moods is a bit...odd, to say the least. Its refreshing though, so I don't mind.

"That is so cool! We were meant to meet here!" He faces the sky and throws out his arms. "It is destiny!" He yells, catching the attention of almost everyone else on the street. I shush him and pull him back down to the bench. "I know its cool but hey, let's not be so eccentric." I laugh.