Avoiding August (ONGOING)

Chapter 8

"A drive-in movie?"

He seemed pleased with himself as he slowed to a stop in a queue of other cars waiting to receive their tickets. "Mm-hmm. Are you impressed?"

I didn't answer, and looked down at my hands. Was he genuinely interested in me and taking me out a date? Or did he have some other motive? Maybe he secretly hated me and was planning to embarrass me somehow.

His face was unreadable, for the most part, however, his lips stayed upturned as he leaned his head out the window -probably to count how many cars were in front of us, with the way he was mouthing words to himself as he looked at them.

August went to turn his head toward me, but then he stopped. He kind of squinted over at the ticket booth and did a lightning-quick double take, then faced away from whatever he saw, cursing. One of his hands came up to obscure his profile while he locked eyes with me.

I felt alarm spike inside my chest.

"Quinn." His voice was low and urgent, making me even more anxious. "Do you have anything to cover my face, or disguise me, or something? Anything." He was leaning in towards me, looking hopefully at my clutch.

I pulled a face. "Why?"

"There's a guy at the ticket booth, and -shit the cars are moving up- he-he doesn't like me, okay? I'm being serious when I say I need to stop him from recognising me." His voice was shaking, and I could have sworn that his hands were as well.

My mouth was dry, but I managed to choke out, "What would he do if he recognised you?"

His eyes wouldn't leave mine. "He'd... He would kill me, Quinn."

"Then, can't we just leave?"

"No, no." He shook his head vehemently, his hair rustling. His brown eyes turned deathly desperate. "I spent so much time thinking about this date, and I'm not going to leave it for another night."

I just about choked. "I didn't think you were that serious about this date."

The look he gave me made me shrink back against the cold, leather seat. "Well, I am. Now, do you have anything that I could use?"

"I didn't bring much with me, August. Only a scarf, eyeliner, and the foundation you bought."

His eyes lit up, sparking to life like a struck match. "That'll do, won't it?"

"How will that do?" God, what was he thinking?

Without warning, he swiped my clutch away from me, not seeming to care that it was resting between my legs. I yelped, but he didn't react. Instead, he unzipped it, placed it on the console between us and leaned close to me. "I need you to give me a really fast makeover."

"What?"

"You're the girl here; make me look different, and I'll put a scarf on my head."

I hesitated. To be honest, I felt a bit uncomfortable about touching his face... But, if he didn't have some sort of disguise, his life would be in dire danger...

That's how I ended up rubbing my almost-white-foundation-smeared hands all over August Right's face. I had been scared to even come close to him, yet now my hands were harshly rubbing the creamy cosmetic into his cheeks. He made a soft, whining sound of complaint as I did this, but I ignored them, leaning back and inspecting the evenness of the job. It was ridiculous to see August with pale skin when his usual natural skin was golden.

I dwelled no longer when I saw we were five cars away from the ticket booth. I squealed in panic, and popped the cap off of the eyeliner.

"Don't blink."

"Hey, don't poke my eyes! Ow ow ow ow ow!" He tried to squirm away. I gripped his jaw harder and smeared the strokes of black around his eyes, hurriedly adding feminine flicks at the outer corner of both his eyes. I smudged it carefully.

I checked to see if it was satisfactory, before pulling back and tossing my scarf at his face. It was an exotic shade of purple, with sparkling gold henna-esque patterns swirling all about it.

He used the rear view mirror to adjust the scarf, wrapping it in a way that resembled a Middle Eastern headdress.

Two cars. He stole my clutch and shoved it down his shirt, somehow managing to keep it up on his chest to mimic a woman's breasts.

One car.

We rolled up to the ticket booth. Our eyes met anxiously, and I leaned forward to say to the guy manning the booth, "Two tickets, please."

"$14." The man replied, and I tried not to stare at the gold tooth filling in his mouth, or the split knuckles his hands bared.

As my money was currently underneath August's shirt, I let him pay for my ticket.

August snatched the tickets from the man, and hurriedly drove into the outside theatre area. He quickly parked, unclipped his seatbelt, and slumped into his seat.

"Oh my god." He sighed out, hands weaving into his fringe as he gazed over at me. A slow smile spread across his lips, and he began to laugh, looking amazed.

"He didn't recognise me." One of his hands covered his mouth. "Oh my god." As August returned my scarf and clutch, he took his hands in mine. "Thank you so much, Quinn."

My heart fluttered in my chest. I mean, I guess any girl's heart would flutter, if a boy as handsome as August praised them with such an infinite smile.

"No problem."

He sighed; it sounded content. He settled comfortably into the car and swung his legs up to rest on the dashboard. His dark hair contrasted dramatically with the hastily-applied, ivory foundation on his face.

As he turned his head and caught me looking, I quickly asked, "So, um, what movie are we seeing?"

He smirked and fixed his eyes to the blank wall, where the projector light started showing the opening to the film.

Eerie music box music. It was really dark. I tried to get him to speak. "A-August? It's not a horror movie, i-is it?" He looked over when I stumbled over my words.

He bit his lips, and showed me the smuggest look I have ever beheld. "Don't worry. Just hold my hand if you get scared."

He rested a hand on the console between our seats.

Dickhead.

How do you like this so far, hm? Who do you reckon the ticket booth man is? ;)