Trapped in Forever

16 ~ Chick Flicks vs. The Caped Crusader

A/N: Hi, birdies. So Trapped in Forever is finally back, hopefully minus all of the hiatuses but I didn't get to write as many chapters as I had hoped. And a big thanks to Stephanie, who made the new TIF cover and a bunch of others I can't wait to show you, and to Scarlett as well who made a banner and a trailer! I love you, babes! :)

“See you, Orion!” I heard Juliette’s voice hollering over the sounds of birds chirping as they swooped and soared across the dusty, pink atmosphere and the sounds of the worn soles of our sneakers planting against the rested snowflakes on the dark pavement as we made our way through the maze of multicolored cars, twisting our hips and angling our elbows as not to hit them against side mirrors, with their own set of snowflakes laid on the surface and frosting the reflections. “And it was nice to meet you, Amanda.”

I glanced over my shoulder at this, still able to hear the crunch of Orion’s Nikes hitting the ice-covered asphalt as the hair tumbling down my shoulder tickled against my neck as I shifted my gaze in her direction but she had already turned away, the gloved hand she used to wave falling at her side, the tips of her fingers brushing against the top layer of snow on the hood of Grady’s car as he pulled down his sleeve, grasping it with his calloused fingers, and slid it across the door handle before, as he shook out his snowy hand, flakes falling from the cuff of his sleeve, yanking it open. I watched, briefly, as he leaned over the console, seeming to shove something out of his way, and manually unlocked the door for Juliette. It felt odd to hear those words come from the lips of someone who didn’t know who I was or what had happened. It wasn’t obligated or said in hopes of filling some kind of void that Roxanne left. It was just said, unattached, no underlining meaning that felt my throat burning and my heart clenched. And beneath the realization of this, all I found was confusion.

“Amanda?”

Turning my gaze away from them, just as Juliette grasped the door handle, pulled it open, and then climbed inside Grady’s car, already saying to him, her words muffled and drowned out by the sound of her door slamming, echoing over the chirping birds, revving engines, and the crunch of tires beginning to roll over the snowy ground, I looked in the direction of the voice that beckoned my name. He was already dusting the snow off of the windshield with his bare forearm, sparkling, white snowflakes embedding with the golden hairs adorning his arm, hazel eyes flickering in my route before giving Grady’s passing vehicle a mock salute with two, ashen fingers. As his car sped away, I could see the roll in his pupils but nonetheless lifted his fingers in a halfhearted wave with somewhat of a smile gracing his lips.

I stepped over the fresh tracks his tires left in the pristine, silver snow, flecks of dirt embedded with the tire treads, and in front of the bumper, my kneecap bumping against the corner of the orange license plate. I noticed the prickling Goosebumps on his skin and the way his biceps were tensed, as if he were making a conscious effort not to shiver. “I could do that,” I offered after a moment, watching as his muscles occasionally trembled, “since I have sleeves.”

He glanced at me, the windshield making a screech like sound as he ran his forearm down it, sliding the snow off and revealing the console where a Burger King medium drink rested in the cup holder, the bright red straw gnawed on at the tip, and three, plain CD cases resting on the surface of the gray console, one propped open and sprawled out across the others, the corner resting on the cup’s lid, and all with unreadable, white labels on the covers. “That’s okay,” he told me, after most of the snow had been removed from the windshield and he started for the back of the station wagon, brushing his arm against his jeans, layering the denim with white. “I should probably buy a snow brush anyway.”

I watched, awkwardly, shifting my weight from one sneaker to the next, hearing the snowflakes crunch between my sole and the pavement, as he brushed the snow off of the back window, revealing ribbon by ribbon bits and pieces of him—first his hip as his flat palm slid against the window and then his stomach, and then his other hip, and then, rubbing his hand against the window like a window wiper, exposed his face, blond hair flopping over his forehead before he shook it away from his eyes. Through the now clear windows, his gaze lifted to mine and for a moment, we just stared at each other, silently, and I wondered if maybe he was thinking the same thing I was.