Late Night Out

*11:45pm*

11:45pm.

I trail behind my best friend, listening to the sloppy rhythm of her shoes slap against the stone hard gravel. Her steps were matched more steadily with the unnamed stranger's. Now I notice that he's wearing beat up runners - not fancy, black dress shoes that I assumed an unpredictable man like him would possess.

After a long, unbearable tranquility had washed over us, I take in a puff of air to work up my courage and quicken my pace to reach where the two were ahead of me.

Once I've fallen in step with him to his left, I finally ask the question that had been itching at the back of my mind.

"This question may have been long overdue, but I didn't catch a name anywhere between the few conversations we've shared." I point out wistfully.

His eyes are still staring straight up but it suggests that he's given me a side glance when he lets out a deep, throaty chuckle.

Jeez, now it's confirmed that he's either undergoing or has already undergone his puberty stage.

"That seems too genuine of a question to come from a girl like you."

Comments like that make my head snap quick towards the noise box that uttered it. An eyebrow coaxes up is defiance, "what makes you think you know me? Just because I may have come off as a hard-headed girl in the first - what, five minutes we met? Besides, doesn't your overconfident ass deserve to be referred to by something other than a pronoun? Think about it." I tap my temple to emphasize my point.

It's a one-eighty turn in our timely relationship when he firmly replies, "you're right." He abruptly stops for a second to turn towards me the best he can with Cassie on his other arm.

"Quinn."

I must've had a deer-in-headlights look reflecting off my face with my mouth gaping open.

Hey, the night is full of surprises.

"This isn't such an intelligent look on you."

I can't hold back the urge to roll my eyes.

"Again, let's remind ourselves that you just gave me your name."

Quinn shoots me back and equally knowing glare. "Now that you know what to properly call me by, I guess it's only fair I do the same for you."

"Abigale, isn't that what you called me earlier today?" I query with a teasing smirk gracing my lips.

He sighs deeply, "no sweetie, your real name - that can't be too bad right?"

I raise my hands up as if I were surrendering.

"Amethy."

When did I start having the will to utter my full name to random people I just recently met - I will never know.

"That's more like it." He coos after I had obliged.

I clear my throat before correcting myself. "It's just Amy."

"Alright 'Just Amy',"he grins like a fiend.

I stare at him in shock, "he has read The Fault in Our Stars."

What used to hold a smug look turned bashful and sheepish.

"Actually, my girlfriend roped me into watching it and I succumbed involuntarily."

I nod, "I see now. You males don't have enough courtesy for your testosterone to admit that a film/novel has touched your heart. What is with that?"

He gives me an almost glare of disbelief. "You know, not all guys are cold and heartless. Sometimes we'll throw hissy fits and will occasionally break down into tears. Rarely though, because our gender is expected to act like these macho, nothing-can-faze-me kind of men."