folklore: the novel

9. august

Even though it's been almost three weeks since their conversation at the lookout that marked the start of... well, them... James still asked Augustine to meet him behind the mall today. She hadn't heard from him for four whole days before his short text this morning, not since the last time they did this. It had been two days of radio-silence before that meet-up. She suspects the next time he decides to go awol will last five, maybe even six or seven, days.

It shouldn't have surprised her. Definitely shouldn't have left her a bit crestfallen. But she can admit to herself that she'd thought the arrival of fall break would mean... no more hiding. No more only meeting in secret when they could use their free time to go anywhere, do anything, with no worries about who might see.

Well, she knows James is hardly worried about everyone seeing them together. More like one person in particular—the one.

She also knows that this fact shouldn't sting. But it does. It does.

Nearly a whole month dedicated to him, to trying to help him heal and find new happiness and... Hell, to convince him that she's worth caring about, too. But he's still hung up on her. On Betty. The sunshiney blonde that radiates so much goodness that Augustine can't even bring herself to dislike her, much less hate her.

It shouldn't have disappointed her, the brusque message that included nothing more than their usual time and place, but it did. The one taste she'd got of a real date with him, their one and only outing to the beach several days ago, set her standards too high. Parked on an empty stretch of beach with some sheets thrown in the bed of her truck, they'd enjoyed the salt air and sunshine with a bottle of wine James had brought with him. She remembers thinking that if this was how she spent the rest of her life, she'd never need anything more. It had been... special to her, special enough that she agreed to give him something she had never allowed anyone else.

And now here he is, still treating her like his dirty little secret. She deserves better—yet another thing she's well aware of—but she wants James to be the one that's deserving. They could be... happy, if he would just allow it of himself like he did that day.

With only two days left of fall break, Augustine isn't going to push for another date. A real date. At this point, she'd be thankful for a decent conversation with him. She wondered if it would make him angry today if she denied him what he obviously came for?

"I told you not to smoke in here. My mom will notice the smell, and I don't need her thinking I'm smoking."

James rolls his green eyes, huffing another cloud of smoke without even bothering to turn to the cracked window. Without a word, he climbs out of her truck to finish his cigarette and slams the door harder than necessary behind him. Through the side mirror, Augustine watches him lean his back against the faded, rusting exterior, one leg raising to rest his foot on her muddy rear tire.

It hurts to remember that, not that long ago, she was tracing her name on that same back with her finger. Wishing, hoping that their summer fling would turn to... love. For her, it already felt like it was.

But August has long-since slipped away and, with it, so has any silly, naive notions that James was—or will ever—do something like fall in love with her. If she's honest with herself, she knows he was never hers to lose in the first place. That spot was reserved long before she moved to this town.

Despite her heart sinking to the bottom of her stomach, Augustine slides across the seat and climbs out on James' side. He doesn't even open his eyes when she shuts the door, nor when her shoes scuff against the concrete parking lot as she moves to face him.

"You're not going to talk to me at all today?"

A deep drag of the cigarette followed by a plume of smoke drifting toward the setting sun is her only response.