"Casey! Hurry up! Alex is here!" shouted Leigh-Ann from the kitchen.
I heard the roaring laughter between Alex and Leigh-Ann and was convinced that I could take my time. They seemed to be getting along very well. Thank heavens for that. I dressed myself in a pair of black yoga pants that were tucked into my tan, leather Sperry Alpine winter boots. I slipped on a faded blue button down, and I threw my hair up into a loose ponytail. I put on the warmest jacket I could find, which was a fur-lined, army green military jacket. After wrapping a faded yellow scarf around my neck, I slung my cross-body purse over my shoulder across my chest, and walked to the kitchen, where Alex and Leigh-Ann were snacking on a bowl of kettle corn popcorn. Alex was the first to see me.
"Hi-ya, stranger," he smiled.
"Hey homeboy," I replied. There was this one time we were both video chatting on Skype, and I was playing country music in the background. Alex gave me a list of songs he liked, and I would play them for him. I got a taste of the kind of music he liked and he got a gist of mine. He enjoyed his rap by Mac Miller. We joked around and played really "lowclass rap," as he liked to call it. We jammed to "Look at Me Now" and "Rack City" and a whole other set of songs that exceeded the definition of "hot mess." Ever since then, we called each other "homegirl" and "homeboy." Lame, I know.
"Aye yo homegirl, you lookin' mighty foiiine," he laughed, trying to sound ghetto like that night we Skyped over terrible rap.
"Nah, no dude. Just, just stop. You can't do it," I snorted.
"Fine then," he eyeballed me recklessly. "But hey, do you have any Hawks stuff with you?"
"Yeah, actually. I was planning to mess with you sometime when I was here, so I brought my Keith jersey. But, I guess you ruined my joke."
"Aww shucks, for me?"
I made the duck face and nodded my head.
"Well go get it! You'll need it for today!" he added.
Oh my. I'm going to get in a fight, or "scrap" with someone, as Alex liked to say (Canadian lingo, I guess). I'll probably be the first person in Toronto to ever be murdered! I was setting myself up to be attacked by a handful of puck bunnies and die-hard, Canadian hockey fans. Besides, I mean the Blackhawks are #1 in the league! I really wondered where we were going today. I usually take surprises well, but Alex has mastered surprising me lately, and I'm not sure if I can handle all this anxious excitement. I'm curious to find out where we're going with a hockey jersey. I dashed to my room and retrieved my red Duncan Keith jersey from the wooden hanger. I caught Alex whispering his plans into Leigh-Ann's ear when I returned to the kitchen.
"What?!" I asked curiously.
Leigh-Ann shook her head from side to side and began blushing.
"You've got yourself a keeper, darlin'. You're gonna have the time of your life today," she winked at me.
I smirked and furrowed my eyebrows. "Alright, I'll take your word for it. I'm ready," I said, looking at Alex now, holding up my Blackhawks jersey.
"Cool, let's go," he grinned a crooked smile at me, then turned to face Leigh-Ann who was eyeing the two of us back and forth like we were a live movie. "Thank you for your hospitality, Leigh-Ann. She'll be home right when... well, you know --"
"-- I got you," Leigh-Ann smiled. "You two have a great time, okay? Call me if you need anything!"
"Will do, Leigh-Ann. See you later! Love you," I exclaimed over my shoulder as Alex and I proceeded to the door.
Leigh-Ann blew a kiss and shooed us away. Alex and I left for his trademark Jeep Wrangler, and drove off into the great city of Toronto.
"So, what's on the agenda today, Mr. 'Thank-you-for-your-hospitality?" I teased.
YOU ARE READING
An Hour Ahead
Teen FictionCasey was a typical 16 year old girl living in the heart of Chicago. Her life was plain and bland until she met a boy. A boy online. His name was Alex. He seemed perfect for her, until she learned that he was miles away from her, residing in Canada...
