Freedom Train

January 28, 1963 cont.

"Hey Terry? Think you can get the beautiful Annabeth here settled making posters? I wanted to talk to Bobby about something real fast," Henry asked Terry with a friendly clap on his shoulder.

Bobby looked toward Annabeth for permission to leave her and she softly smiled her approval at him. She watched as he walked off with Henry. Then, she turned back toward where Terry was standing; only to see that he'd already moved on to a crafting supply table near the back of the room.

Annabeth took a deep breath, following him with her heart hammering in her chest at what had to have been a million miles per second. He was leaning over the homemade wooden table, his palms resting flat on the marred wood.

"Terry, I..."

"You're going to need a few bottles of paint. They're small so they don't last so long."

Annabeth sighed deeply and grabbed two bottles of black paint and a clean brush.

"Terry, listen..."

"There's a table in front, where they make the posters. You can use a slogan from another poster, or you can make up your own."

He wouldn't look up at her, his eyes trained on the lines in the wood beneath his hands. He was trying to appear uninterested in what she had to say to redeem herself. How could she blame him? How would she have felt had their positions been reversed?

Positively horrid, that's how.

"You have to let me explain," She whispered to him, her eyes darting around the room to be sure they weren't drawing any unnecessary attention to themselves.

"We can't do this here, Annabeth," he gritted out harshly, finally flickering his eyes to her face, albeit way too briefly.

"Tomorrow then? We're supposed to meet tomorrow night," She reminded him, her voice sounding desperate. "Will you still come?"

Annabeth looked around one more time before taking a hesitant step closer to him. She could see his body tense but she reached out, covering the back of his hand with her palm. She curled her fingers around the side of his hand and squeezed. He looked toward her again, his eyes finally meeting hers.

"Please, Terry."

The silence stretched between them for a moment. She thought for sure that he was going to turn her down flat. Instead, he nodded once, before pulling his hand out from underneath her and quickly walking toward the opposite end of the room and disappearing within another group of people.

Annabeth released the breath she'd been holding in anticipation of his rejection and grabbed her supplies with shaking hands. She tried to hold her head high as she walked toward the front tables and offered a forced but friendly smile to the people sitting there.

***

"You're awfully quiet," Bobby mentioned on the way home two hours later.

Bobby came back to Annabeth mere seconds after she settled herself with a poster board and paint. They spent the remainder of their time making posters, with Bobby disappearing every now and then to handle other business.

It appeared as if Bobby was way more invested in the cause than she would've ever imagined him to be. While she could imagine him sympathizing with the underground organization of activists, she never expected him to take such a dynamic part of it all.

Annabeth thought it was great that he wanted to make a difference. She just wished he were more open about telling her what he was doing- so that maybe she'd be able to help him more. She had a feeling, though, that soon Bobby wouldn't want anything to do with her at all.

Because who was she kidding? It wasn't like she was the queen of truthfulness or anything. Bobby had the right to his own secrets, for whatever reason he decided to keep them.

"Just thinking," Annabeth finally replied with a quick grin in his direction.

"Well what are you thinking of?" he chuckled.

Annabeth took a deep breath, leaning against the back of the seat, rolling her head to look at him.

"I feel like I need to be honest with you, but I just don't know how to be. You mean so much to me, Bobby. You're a great friend." She admitted with a grimace.

He glanced over at her, a frown etching its way into every feature of his handsome face.

"I don't ever want you to be anything but honest with me, Annabeth."

Annabeth nodded. Bobby was right. It was not fair that she was stringing Bobby along. Especially not when he had turned out to be such a stand-up guy. He deserved so much more than to be Annabeth's...Whatever he was.

"I really like you, Bobby..." She said, her words trailing off as she bit her bottom lip and turned her body toward him a little more.

"Why do I feel a 'but' coming on?" he mumbled.

"But it's just... I think I like you more as a good pal, not as my potential husband."

Bobby pulled up in front of Annabeth's house and turned off the truck. He was looking straight ahead but she could see the disappointment on his face clear as the stars.

"I don't remember asking you to marry me, AB," he said with a thin grin.

"Of course not," she frowned. "I don't want to lead you on, Bobby. I don't want to make you think there's something here that just isn't for me. And I wish it was, Bobby. With all my heart. I wish I felt for you the way I feel for..." Annabeth shut her mouth, keeping the words from slipping, and quickly recovered. "...The way I ought to feel for you."

Annabeth might have corrected herself, but she was not fast enough.

"Who is he?" Bobby asked, his tone more accusing than she was prepared for.

"There's no one else," Annabeth lied as she pulled her jacket closer to her body, as if clutching her coat would keep her necessary fib inside. "There hasn't been anyone else."

"I don't believe you," he said as he brought his gaze outside of the windshield once more.

He restarted the car and gripped the wheel tightly.

"Bobby, listen. I don't want to lose your friendship. You've come to mean a lot to me over these last few weeks."

He looked over at her, his expression blank.

"Goodnight, Annabeth," he said with a formality that made Annabeth's skin break out in goosebumps.

Annabeth lowered her head and opened the passenger side door of the truck. She had barely hopped out before the tires were squealing and Bobby was on his way back up their dirt road.

Annabeth stood staring after the truck, a fresh set of tears silently rolling down her face. She took a deep breath and reached up with her hands, wiping away the moisture before she had to face her father.

Once the tears started, it was hard to get them to stop.

She had started the morning with two men who loved her. She was ending her night alone.

Annabeth blamed only herself.