Ch10 - I'm Not The Way You Think I Am

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I walk out at 7:33, Pete's car in the driveway. I climb into the car and set my backpack in the floorboard, glance at him briefly, smile quickly, and then stare forwards. Why am I being awkward? Fuck it, I don't know how to do anything else.

"I gotta stop for gas on the way, that cool?"

"Yeah, sure," I say, as if I could tell him that he can't refill his own gas tank.

We sit in silence until we pull into the gas station. He exits the car and the scent of fresh, morning air mixed with gas drifts into the car. Pete leaves his door open as he fills the gas tank, then ducks his head back into the car.

"I'm gonna go in while this is filling up. You want anything?"

I turn my head back to him only to shake it. I'm so tired, I can't handle human interaction right now.

Up late - hah, late, try all night - thinking. Always thinking. Picturing his hands, maybe. Yes. Definitely. The veins in his beautiful hands, in my hair, please. My eyes dart to his hand draped over the top of the door. I shut my eyes and shake my head again. Not now. Don't make it even more awkward.

He frowns slightly, then closes the car door as he crosses the empty pseudo-parking lot on his way into the gas station. I watch him go, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his leather jacket rumpled slightly. It still looks good. It's hot, though, why does he need a jacket? Maybe it's windy. I didn't think it was, but I am not entirely coherent yet. Maybe I won't be at all today.

The gas pump clicks, signaling a full tank, just as Pete re-emerges from the gas station. He carries a small bag and jogs over to the car. I stare at his legs, the fabric framing them nicely.

The windows are tinted. He can't see me, I tell myself, excusing the stare.

He opens the car door and drops the bag on his seat before going over to the gas pump and pulling it out of the car. He pays for it and drops into his seat, grabbing the bag. He pulls two Redbulls out of it, handing one to me.

"You looked tired."

"Yeah. Thanks," I say, smiling. And I am grateful. I pop the tab open and drink a fourth of the can. Feeling immediately more awake, I stare forwards as Pete pulls through and leaves the gas station.

I drink more of the Redbull, drumming my fingers on my knee.

By the time we have arrived at school, I have already downed my entire Redbull.

"Shit," Pete says, slightly wide-eyed as I crush the can in my hand. I smile at him, feeling only slightly twitchy. "Just leave the can in the floorboard, I'll throw it away later."

I hesitate, but do as he says.

We begin to cross over from the extended parking lot into the schoolyard.

"You gonna be on the roof at lunch? I think we have the same lunch today, right?"

"Yeah, we do. I dunno, why?" I don't know why or since when I know his lunch schedules but I do.

"You should meet me there. I have something I wanna show you."

"Uh, okay," I say, my mind immediately sifting through the possibilities. Maybe he will bring a group and beat me up. Cynical as ever.

But I'll go anyways, because I want to have a reason to trust him.

I wave goodbye to him when we reach the school. I'll head straight for the door and he'll stay outside for a few more minutes, chatting with someone, like he always is.

"See you later," he says before I'm too far away.

"Yeah, see ya," I say, awkwardly wringing my hands.

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⏰ Last updated: Jan 19, 2017 ⏰

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