Nosebleed

Chapter 4 -- Mia

What does a girl wear on a date when she doesn't even know what she's going to be doing? I pondered the thought over a bowl of Cheerios.

My whole family sat around the kitchen table in their Sunday best, my father reading the newspaper, my mother and little brother chowing down on eggs and French toast.

"I can't believe you aren't even going to go to church with us." My mother said, stabbing her fork into her breakfast.

"This isn't even fair. I have to go to church." My brother complained, and my mom wiped his face with a napkin.

"Don't worry. I'll pray later." I said, walking to the kitchen and putting my bowl in the dishwasher. My father just turned the page of the newspaper, disregarding the whole conversation as he usually does. He's a quiet man. That is until you make him mad. Luckily for the rest of us, he doesn't get mad very easily.

My parents piled into their SUV and left for church and lunch at my grandmothers, where they'd spend most of the day. I went upstairs and showered, and looked at myself in the mirror. I try not to do this very often. I beat myself up too much. I inspected my long stringy blonde hair, and my average looking smile. The sun poured through the blinds and shone on my pale skin. Freckles dotted my arms. As I stood naked in the middle of my bedroom, I took a second to breathe in the silence. Relax Mia, relax.

I walked to my closet and tried to find something to wear, but not knowing what the plans for the day were, I got stressed, and then I got frustrated and I threw myself into my bed and just laid there. Breathe. Relax. I get frustrated very easily. And stress is second nature to me. I'm really trying to work on it. I've collected ways to deal with stress from self help books. It's a work in progress, but I'm really trying to not care as much.

I text him, thinking that maybe if I knew how to dress, I'd calm down a bit.

Okay. Ease my brain. What do I wear?

What do you feel like wearing?

What are you wearing?

Currently a stained pair of sweatpants. What are you wearing?

Wouldn't you like to know ;) seriously what should I wear today??

Dress in something fairly comfortable. I'll pick you up in about an hour or so. Where do you live?

I gave him my address and retreated back to my closet, and decided on wearing a hoodie, jeans, and boots. I threw my wet hair into a messy bun, because I knew it would just frizz if I left it down. I brushed my teeth and put on some makeup to make my bland face look a little less bland. And I put my glasses on and looked at myself in the mirror. It's crazy how you can just look at yourself and not recognize your own face sometimes. I took my glasses off and put in my contacts, thinking my glasses may not be the most fashionable first date accessory. After adding all the final touches to my look, I checked myself one last time in the mirror. Still the same old me. 

I sat in bed on my laptop until I heard him honking the horn in the driveway. I looked out my window and there he was, standing beside his car, flowers in hand, a goofy grin on his face. I laughed at how adorable he was in his little black beanie and tight jeans. And of course, that award winning smile. I grabbed my bag and walked downstairs and out the door, greeting him at his car. I went in for a handshake when he went in for a hug, and then vice versa. We settled on a fist bump.

"These are, uh... for you." he said, handing my the flowers and smiling at me. Ugh. That smile.

"Thank you." I replied, trying not to blush. "Don't take this the wrong way, but what happened to your face?" He had a small cut just above his right eyebrow, and the bridge his nose was bruised. 

"Oh, uh.. it's kind of embarrassing. I, uh.. tripped walking outside. I must've hit my head when I fell. It doesn't hurt or anything so we're fine."

"Do you want me to drive?" I asked.

"Of course not. Get in the passenger seat." I obeyed his orders and he started up his car, driving us away from my house. 

"So where are we going?" 

"El parque. Do you know Spanish?" he asked me. He then proceeded to tell me lots of things in Spanish, things I barely comprehended. We had both already taken Spanish classes. He just happened to retain a little bit more from his.

"So what school do you go to?" I asked him.

"I take classes online. Public school really wasn't for me." We remained quiet for a while, taking in the scenery of beautiful Omaha. The ground was covered in frost. The evergreen trees were topped with snow. I could fall asleep it was so peaceful. The only sounds filling the car were the quiet hums of our breathing matching up to each others and the sound of the radio barely playing in the background. When he noticed me looking at his radio he said "My phone is hooked up if you want to go through my playlist." He handed me his phone and gave me his password (I know, we must be getting quite serious) and I began to go through his music library. He had such a wide variety. His collection went from Trey Songz, to the Rocky Horror Picture Show soundtrack, to All Time Low. So I hit shuffle. The first song to come on was Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time, one of Panic! at the Disco's new songs. 

"I love this song! And this band! You have excellent taste." I smirked at him. He laughed and leaned his head back on the seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the song, his long, skinny, pale fingers. His veiny wrists were revealing under his jean jacket. What a good looking dude. We let the sound of the music soak us up into serenity, embracing the peace, enjoying each other's company.