Oliver and Joslyn

I

joslyn

hot sweat trickles down the back of my neck and my feet ache from standing up all day. i'm sweaty and tired and just want to go home and watch netflix. i roll my eyes at the memory of the rich middle-aged women who had yelled at me when her order of cupcakes apparently didn't have enough frosting. i left the cupcake shop on mainstreet without a backward glance that day. it was an okay job and the pay wasn't bad, but it wasn't really something i wanted to do for the rest of my life.

i am lost in thought when i feel a big, hairy hand on my back. i jump about a foot in the air.

'hey, joslyn.'

i have to crane my head back to see the face of Aiden Martinez—the jock to top all jocks. he was one of the graduates at school this year. i think he barely passed at all; all he seemed to care about was football, and girls.

a few girls i know have crushes on him. personally, i don't get what they see in him. he's really big and muscular, and gels his hair into something like a shark fin. i'm pretty sure he grew a permanent fur coat once he started high school. seriously though, that guy is hairy.

'um, hi. look, i have to get back—' my heartbeat quickens. i've watching things like this on the news. this will not end well.

'joslyn, joslyn. let me talk.' he was the one who interrupted me! 'i need to ask you something.' he grabs my arm. i try to shake him off, but he just presses his thick hot dog-like fingers harder against my skin.

'i really have to go!' i try and fail again to wrench my arm away. let go let go just let go. 

he ignores me. 'listen. do you want to come to a party tonight at my place?'

'um, actually—' i'm trying not to hyperventilate.

he pulls me closer. 'you know you want to.'

i scream.

'hey!'

we both turn. a boy is crossing the street in long strides. 'let go of her!'

aiden's grip had slackened a bit when he turned to look at the boy, and he tightens it again. 'yeah? why should i?'

'well, c-couple of reasons.' he scratched the back of his head. 'number one: she doesn't want to go to your little playdate.'

aiden starts sputtering, but the boy cuts him off.

'secondly; if you keep t-touching her i will call the police.' he has a little stutter. it's kind of cute.

aiden scoffs. 'haven't heard that one before.'

the boy pulls out his phone. it's an old flip phone from, like, the 1900s. in spite of myself, i choke back a laugh.

the boy looks at me, and i turn red. i probably sounded like i was coughing up a hairball or something.

aiden says, 'you wouldn't actually call. you don't have the guts.'

'don't i?' the boy dramatically punches in the 9.

'last time i checked? no'

1

'um..'

1

'ooh look at that pretty green call b-button! i think i'll p-press it—'

aiden bolts, with a sideways glance over his shoulder. 'you'll pay for that one, Mr. Stutter!'

the boy just laughs. i turn to face him. 'thanks.'

'no problem! it's not every d-day i get to rescue damsels in distress..especially not ones as p-p-pretty as you.' he reddens. 'i mean—'

i laugh, maybe a little hollowly. 'it's alright.' he smiles sheepishly, obviously relieved. i look him over; he's very tall, maybe six something? his longish reddish-brown hair keeps blowing into his eyes, which are a warm hazel.

'hey, are you okay?'

i realize my hands are shaking. i open my mouth to say yes, i'm fine, but what comes out instead is, 'no, i'm not okay!' my voice squeaks.

for a moment, he looks surprised. i don't blame him. it's not often someone relates what one is feeling to another human—a near stranger at that. he recovers himself quickly, though. 'i'm sorry. is t-there anything i can do?'

'yes, actually. could you walk me home?'

it was like someone else had spoken for me. i started to take it back, when i decided maybe it wouldn't be so bad to walk home with him. it didn't seem likely aiden would come back, but even so, i would feel safer with this boy. i don't know why. i don't even know his name.

'well, alright. hopefully we won't obtain any more p-party invitations tonight.' he smiled, crookedly.

i laugh. it feels good. 'well, technically, i'm the only one who got an invite.'

he laughs in return. 'that's true. anyway, what's the way?'

i point. 'it's just that way onto maple drive.'

he offers me his arm like an old english gentleman. 'onward?'

'onward.'

smiling, is underrated.