12:51 Blaze It ( Julian Casablancas Fic )

Part 9

Days go by, then weeks as I settle down. I find an apartment and move in, and I feel like it should have made me feel better. But I just feel empty. I find a job as a waitress, but I don't feel like I can be happy. I thought staying would do that, but it's obviously because Julian isn't with me.

One day after work, I head out and go to a cafe. I notice a cute punk girl sitting at a table by herself, so I sit next to her. "Hey," I start, putting myself out there.

She looks up at me through the lengthy bangs of the Oli-Sykes-esque haircut. "Hello."

"Mind if I sit?"

"Not at all." She smiles weakly.

I take a seat. "Sorry if I'm bothering you," I say right away.

"No, it's fine, gosh." She smiles again.

"Well, it's just that I recently moved here. I mean, I grew up here, then I moved to New York, and now I'm back."

"Oh, exciting. Say, what's your name?"

"I'm Lizzie, sorry for not introducing myself."

"Hey, Lizzie, I'm Zara." She sticks out her hand, which I shake gently. Her hand is soft, and my fingers brush gently against the sleeve of her black sweater.

We talk for hours about music and books, until finally I need to get home.

"Um, could I maybe have your cell number?" I blurt out.

She smiles. "Yeah, of course." She takes out a pad of post-it notes and scribbles her number down with a nearby pen. She hands it to me with a shy smile.

"Thanks. I, uh, I'll text you later."

"Alright. Bye, Lizzie."

"Bye." I give her a small wave before leaving the cafe and heading home.

The next day, I send her a text, anxiously awaiting a reply. She answers in a couple minutes, which makes me smile. We agree to meet up at a bar later that night, and my anticipation for that grows wildly. I dress in my red leggings and ripped skinny jeans, putting on a low tank and leather jacket on top.

I look all around for her, but I can't find her. Soon I decide to give up. Just as I head out, I run into someone by accident. "Sorry," I mumble.

"Lizzie?" the boy asks, his hair dyed green.

I look over. "Um, hi?"

The guy smiles. "It's me."

I raise my eyebrows. "Zara . . .?" She looks like a guy. Nothing like the girl I saw yesterday.

"Yeah, technically, but, uh . . . it's Oliver." She smiles. "Or Oli."

I'm confused. "Oliver?"

"I'm genderfluid," Oli explains. "But you can keep the pronouns the same."

Then I get it. "Ahh, I see." I smile. "Damn, Oli. Guy looks good on you."

She chuckles. "Thanks." Then she grabs my hand. "Come on." She leads me through the pub and to a table, where we sit at the stools and talk some more. The night flies by, and soon I need to get home. "Well, listen," I tell him with a smile, standing up. "I really enjoy spending time with you. We should hang out more often."

She grins and stands up with me. "Yeah, okay."

I nod. "Later, Oli."

"Well, wait," she pleads, suddenly sounding uncertain.

I tilt my head. "What's up?"

She looks down and grabs my hands, intertwining her fingers with mine before standing on tiptoe and pressing a solid kiss to my lips.