black & gold

Chapter 2

They drive in silence for a minute or two once Hannah pulls out of the high school
parking lot. It's not a bad silence, though. It's comfortable, which is strange to Grace.
She'd never felt that a silence between her and another human being was comfortable, so
for her to feel at ease with a stranger was certainly new. For Hannah, the silence was
appreciated. She always enjoyed the feeling of driving with somebody without speaking a
word, just listening to whatever the radio had to play and watching the city pass by.
As much as Grace likes the peace and quiet, she wants to know more about the brunette
sitting next to her with one hand hanging out of her window and the other settled on the
top of her steering wheel.
"So do you run track or do field events?" Grace asks, sliding her arms into the sleeves of
the Kennedy High School sweatshirt she had put into her duffel bag. She didn't think
she'd need it, but the chill of the air rushing through Hannah's car window had gotten to
her.
Hannah glances over at Grace and smiles, "Neither. I'm, uh... sort of like the team
manager."
"Oh," Grace nods, "Is that your passion in life? Being a track team manager?"
Hannah laughs, loud and full, and shakes her head, "Oh, God, no. I started doing it last
year mainly because I thought it would look good on college applications. But then I got
attached to the team and... I don't know, it's just kinda cool now. Getting water for
people, giving pep talks, that kind of thing. Which, I guess in a way that sort of is my
passion. Serving people. Communicating with them."
"You seem like you'd be good at that. The whole talking to people thing," Grace smiles
and turns to look out her window, watching Los Angeles speed by.
"What's your passion, then? I'm gonna go ahead and assume it's sprinting because I
don't think I've ever seen somebody run the 200 as fast as you did today," Hannah's lips
quirk up at the corners and she looks over at Grace, briefly mesmerized by the way the
city lights illuminate her face.
Grace smiles softly and shakes her head, "I don't even really like running. I only do it
because I'm good at it and it's sort of the only thing I actually am good at. Have you ever
done that? Only stuck with something because you were exceptional at it?"
Hannah focuses her attention back to the road ahead of her when her traffic light flashes
green. "I've never been exceptional at something, so I don't know."
Grace's lips draw into a frown and she looks away from Hannah and back out her
window, "I'm sure you'll find something. You seem like one of those people."
"What kind of people?"
"The kinds of people that are meant to do really good things," Grace responds, her voice
softening a bit.
It sort of hits Hannah's heart in a frighteningly real way. She's not sure if it's the words
themselves or the girl that's saying them, but it stirs something inside of her.
Hannah clears her throat, wanting to turn the focus away from herself, "So, uh... you
never told me what your passion was."
Grace smiles in the way that a person smiles when they think about the thing that they
truly love to do, "It's embarrassing."
"I'm sure it's not. Is it whittling? Because I used to want to be a whittler when I was
younger. It can't be much more embarrassing than that, can it?" Hannah grins, trying to
ease Grace's thoughts out of her.
Grace laughs, "Whittling? Seriously?"
"Hey, man, this is a no-judgment zone," Hannah says in mock-defense.
"Alright, alright. I'm sure you'd be a great whittler. You could open up a shop and name
it The Littlest Whittlest," Grace comments, ending her sentence with a laugh.
Hannah gasps, "What? You're making short jokes to a person you've known for like ten
minutes?! To the person that saved you from living the rest of your life on a street corner
outside of a high school?"
Grace laughs and holds up her hands in surrender, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
"The Littlest Whittlest. Jesus. Whittlest isn't even a word, Grace," Hannah mumbles,
pouting at the endless road ahead of her.
Grace sighs to halt her laughter and she smiles over at Hannah, "I want to make people
laugh. That's my passion."
Hannah doesn't respond, just nods and stares straight ahead, focusing on her driving
instead of the girl next to her. Grace waits for a comeback of some sort, but gives up after
a moment and looks back out her own window.
"I know it's stupid. You don't have to say anything. It's ju-"
As soon as the traffic light in front of her flicks to red, Hannah cuts Grace off and turns to
look at her, full attention on the blonde girl sitting in the passenger seat of her beat-up,
red Hyundai.
"It's not stupid. Don't say that. It's the most un-stupid thing I've ever heard. And you'd
be fucking amazing at it, by the way," Hannah states, her face painted with utter
earnestness and sincerity
Grace swallows, once, and breaks her gaze with the brunette, staring down at her own
hands. She really doesn't know how to respond to Hannah's sentiments. She'd never told
anyone - not a single soul - about her life passions. But here she was, sitting in the car of
a girl she'd only just met, spilling out everything she'd ever kept locked away inside of
her. There was just something about Hannah that made her want to tell her every secret,
every dream she'd ever had.
So, because she can't say anything else, Grace simply responds with, "Thanks."
Hannah smiles and studies the blonde's profile for a moment - trying to memorize the
curves and lines of her face.
"Are you hungry?" Hannah asks out of the blue.
Grace turns to her, "Yeah, but I don't... I didn't bring any money."
"It's cool. I'll pay," Hannah shrugs as if it's not a big deal, "Besides, I haven't eaten since
breakfast and I know that Kennedy girls always starve themselves on meet days."
Grace smiles softly, "I'll pay you back."
"You can buy me dinner next time, alright?" Hannah responds, looking over at Grace to
flash a grin at her before turning back towards the road.
Grace almost asks Hannah what she means by next time, but she restrains herself.
Because, really, she does want to see Hannah again. She wants to spend every waking
moment with her, if possible. The thought hits Grace like a freight truck, but it doesn't
frighten her. It makes her feel alive.
-
They end up going to some small diner off of the main highway that's empty except for
them and an older couple sitting by the window, sipping on black coffees.
"What can I get for you ladies?" An older waitress asks, smiling at the two girls.
"I'll get the blueberry pancakes," Grace says and pushes her menu out of the way.
Hannah laughs to herself at Grace's order, "Um, I'll get the soup and salad."
Their waitress jots down their orders before heading off towards the kitchen. When Grace
looks up at Hannah, the brunette is still laughing.
"What?" Grace questions, a frown slowly growing on her face.
"Nothing, it's just cute," Hannah shrugs, "Pancakes for dinner."
Grace glances down at the table to hide the blush that creeps onto her cheeks at the word
cute. "My parents are out of town, alright? I'm allowed to have breakfast for dinner. And besides, pancakes are great."
"Pancakes are disgusting," Hannah grimaces, unwrapping her utensils from her napkin.
"Says the girl that ordered soup for dinner. What are you, eighty?" Grace shoots back and
then lowers her head when the elderly couple glances at her.
Hannah gasps, "Soup is great, don't make fun of soup. Pancakes are for children, you are
a child."
Grace sits back in her chair and folds her arms, "How dare you."
Hannah gives up and laughs at Grace's strange comeback, running a hand through her
hair before leaning forward on the table, "So tell me, Grace. Where did you come from?
Because I'm pretty convinced you were sent straight from the track and field gods to
mess with all of the weaker sprinters."
Grace rolls her eyes, "I'm from the exact opposite of wherever the track and field gods
are from. I'm from New Jersey."
Hannah snorts and tilts her head, "Really? Can you do a Jersey accent?"
"Maybe," Grace smirks, "But we just met. I don't know if you're ready for that yet."
"Alright, alright. So why'd you move to Los Angeles?" Hannah asks, taking a sip of her
water.
"My parents divorced when I was younger and my mom just recently remarried this guy
that works out of LA. So we moved here," Grace shrugs.
"You don't sound to happy about that," Hannah comments, focusing on folding her
napkin into some sort of shape that Grace can't distinguish.
Grace purses her lips, "It's... I don't mind it. Los Angeles is nice. The people are nice,
too, for the most part. But I'd spent my whole life in New Jersey, y'know? It just kind of
sucks to have to move states and schools for your junior year of high school."
"I get that," Hannah nods, then slides over her folded napkin to Grace, "Here. Maybe this
will cheer you up."
Grace glances down at the small hexagon-shaped napkin in front of her. "What is it?"
"Origami! Blow it up!" Hannah says with a smile, clearly excited about her Japanese
napkin art.
Grace cautiously picks up the napkin and turns it in front of her, trying to figure out
where exactly she's supposed to blow.
"Blow into that tip, right there," Hannah points, reading Grace's mind.
Grace mumbles a soft, "That's what she said," before she blows into the napkin, eyes
widening when it blows up into a cube. "Whoa, magic!"
Hannah watches on with wide-eyes as Grace stares at the newly inflated box in her hands,
child-like joy painted across her face. She wonders what Grace would think of her if she
knew the kind of person that really she was. If she knew that she was the person that
would fuck girls she didn't even know in bathrooms and locker rooms. If she knew that
she only walked up to her in the first place because her best friend told her it would be a
good idea to ask her out just to fuck with her head a little bit. But before these thoughts
can consume her, Hannah remembers Grace's earlier comment. You seem like one of
those people. The kinds of people that are meant to do really good things. It makes
Hannah want to be better. It makes her want to live up to all of the preconceived,
misjudged expectations Grace has of her. So instead of shutting down and shying away,
she leans across the table and teaches Grace how to make an origami blow-up box.
-
Hannah pulls into the empty driveway of the large, lavish white house that Grace directed
her to. She opens her door and steps out, her jaw dropped at Grace's home.
"It's ridiculous, I know," Grace shakes her head, "My stepdad has a lot of money and he
likes to flaunt it. Believe me, I'm not rich at all, it's just him."
"It's amazing," Hannah says on an exhale.
Grace shrugs and turns back to Hannah, "So, um, I should probably go. I have practice
early tomorrow morning."
Hannah nods, forgetting that this was a night that had to come to an end eventually,
"Yeah, well... tonight was fun."
"It was," Grace agrees, smiling warmly at the girl standing across from her, "Thank you
again for everything, Hannah. I really appreciate it."
"Not a problem," Hannah responds and leans back up against her car, "I'll see you later,
Grace."
Hannah turns on her heel and gets back into her Hyundai, pulling out of the long, gravel
driveway and trying not to stare at Grace for too long. Once Grace's front door is shut,
Hannah lets out an exhale that she didn't know she'd been holding in all night.
-
Grace climbs into her bed and pulls her comforter close to her chin, staring at the faint
paint lines on her ceiling. Her thoughts immediately drift to Hannah Hart. She knows that
she likes Hannah. What she doesn't know is how much. Because, for Grace Helbig,
romantic feelings of any sort had always come in the form of men. What she feels for
Hannah is something she doesn't recognize as anything other than profound respect and friendship.
So, why then, when Grace's phone vibrates next to her and her screen flashes The Littlest
Whittlest, does her heart race in the same way it did when Ross Dyer kissed her in the
seventh grade? Grace tries to ignore the feeling and instead swipes her phone unlocked,
reading the message from Hannah:
What are you doing tomorrow night?
Grace smiles to herself and quickly texts back.
Nothing. Why?
I'll pick you up at seven :)
Grace stares at her phone for a moment and wonders why she actually wants to do
something with Hannah. Why her chest contracts at the thought of Hannah taking her
someplace special tomorrow evening. Because, before Hannah, Grace had grown
accustomed to coming up with excuses to get out of pretty much all social situations that
didn't involve the friends she was absolutely closest with. But there was something about
Hannah that made her just a little bit fearless.
Can't wait.
Twenty minutes away, in her own bed, Hannah clutches her phone to her chest and tries
to figure out what it is exactly about Grace that makes her want more than a 5-minute
relationship in a locker room. She wonders why the thought of holding Grace's hand and
kissing her cheek doesn't scare her, not even in the slightest.