Alora Jones; a shy, 20-year-old who has spent all of her life struggling with her weight. It doesn't help that the main cause of that is because of her parents. Growing up with constant negativity and hurtful words being thrown at her by the two tha...
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Alora
Harry and I say our goodbyes after finishing the paperwork needed for me to start on Friday. I grab my bag and head towards the door before the sound of his voice stops me.
"Are you walking home?" he says putting papers in his brown, leather messenger bag. He grabs his keys off of the counter before walking my way.
"Yeah, it's just a short walk. I'll be fine." I fidget with the strap that's laying on my shoulder.
"Let me drive you home, it's getting pretty dark outside and we wouldn't want anything to happen to you before your first day now would we?" He flashes me that toothy grin that makes my knees shake every time. One thing I've noticed about Harry is that he's very persistent. I know I'm not going to win this but I will try my best.
"No, it's ok. I wouldn't want you to inconvenience yourself. I've got pepper spray in my purse and I'm not as weak as I may seem" I give him a wink.
"I never said you were weak Alora, but my mother raised a gentleman. I don't doubt that she'd have my head if I let a girl walk home. Besides, it's on my way. It's not an inconvenience at all."
He reaches for me, hand hovering over the small of my back. His fingertips just barely feather against me before pulling back just a hair. It's almost as if I could feel the hesitation on my skin. It's like there's this force drawing us together, one that won't rest until we're chest-to-chest, hearts beating to the same rhythm.
"I'm not going to win this am I?" I try to regulate my breathing and distract my racing mind from the small interaction we just had.
This time he doesn't hesitate. He places his hand right on the small of my back and leans closer to me to whisper in my ear "Not a chance darling," sending shivers down my spine. I'm sure he could feel the bumps covering my skin.
"Now, shall we?" He asks, opening the door leading to the outside. I walk outside before letting him lead the way around the building to his car.
A look of shock comes over my face when the car comes into my view. A 1963 Chevy Corvette in an almost burnt orange color. I notice that Harry is waiting for me with the passenger door open.
Still in awe, I walk towards the car and get in. He closes the door and walks around to the other side, getting in himself. He starts the car and I hear it roar with life. He looks at me before pulling out of the parking lot.
There is a silence in the air. It's not uncomfortable or awkward. Just silent. It's kind of nice.
"So I saw you ogling my car. Do you know what kind of car this is?" He sparks up conversation, breaking the silence.
"If I remember correctly it's a 1963 Chevrolet Corvette Convertible. I love the burnt orange color of it. Very vintage looking." I brush my fingertips along the smooth dashboard.
