Change for Me?

Going to the Movies

The picture on the side is of the outfit Ashlyn wears to the movies

ENJOY :D

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“So, who was that kid?” Kolby asks, running a little faster than our usual pace, but not so fast that I wasn’t able to match him.

“He isn’t a kid, he’s eighteen,” I tell him; thinking to myself I wonder if he considers me a kid, seeing as I am the same age as him.

“Oh, he’s eighteen? My bad, I didn’t realize that he was eighteen,” he says in a tone that holds so much sarcasm that I am left gaping.

“Well I’m eighteen, am I considered a child?” I ask him, not knowing if he was going to tell me that he thought of me as a child, “Is that why you’re running with me? You and my Father are ‘friends, so you didn’t want his little child getting hurt running by herself.”

“I don’t consider you a child--”

“Well, you must! I mean, you just said that he was a child; we are the same age… Actually I think that I am younger,” I can tell that I am becoming hostile, but I can’t stop myself from becoming offended.

“You are mature; he seems like the type of kid that only talks to girls to get into their pants, so when I called him a kid—I only meant that he seemed immature,” he tells me, trying to keep me from getting angry at him, again.

“What gives you the right to automatically assume that he is trying to get into my pants, as you so kindly put it? All he did was ask me if I would want to run with him, as opposed to running by myself,” I tell him, not liking that he thinks he can just assume that someone was talking to me only to get into my pants.

“What gives me the right? Well, how about the fact that I was once a teenage boy just like him; so I know how they think, and their motives behind every little thing they do,” he says defensively. Breathing heavily, I decide to take the highroad and not reply back to him—not wanting to start another argument where we get mad at each other.

“Aren’t you going to say anything? Tell me that just because I was a pervert when I was younger doesn’t mean that everyone else is?”

“It isn’t a good idea for me to say anything; I would rather not start a fight with you over something so insignificant,” I tell him, not breaking my pace at all and ignoring the fact that he is bewilderedly staring at me.

 “I agree, and just for the record, I am sorry that I called him a kid, therefor calling you a kid indirectly,” he says to me, in a serious tone, but I can hear the underlying tone of amusement.

“Now that that is over with, how about we just finish this run so that I can go home and go to bed,” I say, with a groan, as I am finally hit with a wave of fatigue.

“Why don’t we just call it a night?” Kolby asks, slowing his pace down; giving him a disapproving glance, I speed up so that he has no choice but to run faster to catch up to me.

“Just for that we are going to do an extra two miles,” I tell him, internally groaning at the punishment I had unintentionally given to myself alongside of Kolby.

“Whatever,” he says in a teasing tone, “I can run longer than that; the question is…. Can you keep up?” he asks, winking at me and speeding up to a fast paced run. Feeling my competitive edge coming to the surface, I sped up to match and then surpassed him, running slightly faster—just to show him that I could keep up.