Half-glass full and cynical Calista Dames can sketch out her life in a series of plans, predictions and preparations. She's the girl who knows what she's doing and where she's going, the girl with all the questions answered, the girl with a foundati...
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CHAPTER SIX
Let's Talk About Our Vinyl Lives
The New York subway was the quintessential mode of transport you just have to take if you were ever within the city. I never knew why- maybe it was because of the movies that embedded these stereotypes about the city in my head.
Anyway, the train was flat-face, sleek and silver and by the time, we caught up to it, I was winded and sweaty, mind running with the disbelief that I just ditched all plans of tonight, entrusted my fate with a total stranger and followed him around in a city I had no idea how to navigate.
Don't ever listen to my advice, kids.
At the station, Flynn pointed at the subway map and squinted at it as if it was all in a different language. After a while, I got annoyed.
"Do you not know where to go?"
Flynn broke out of his trance, "Hmm? No, it's not that- I'm just wondering if Gordon's open tonight."
"Gordon?"
"A club. If you're going to take weed brownies, Gordon's the best place to do it."
I laughed, kind of in disbelief. "Okay."
"He should be open tonight," murmured Flynn, scratching his head, and took out a battered smartphone- a Samsung- with a jagged screen. "I'll text him that we're coming- pray that the bastard is awake."
His fingers worked in a flurry over the phone and after that, he hustled us to an e-ticket machine where he booked us two tickets to Williamsburg station. My hands tingled in excitement, despite the fear thudding in my chest, at what the night would bring. What Flynn would bring.
We checked in with no problem and the whole time, Flynn held my hand, guiding me through the unfamiliar routes of the station to the platform suggested on the display boards. If you saw us, I think you would assume we were a couple.
We were three minutes from departure, which caused us to start running for our train, and only once we were in the train, holding on the overhead handles, was I able to fully digest what I just did.
I was never the adventurous type but apparently, today I was.
I pretended to be engaged in my surroundings, observing the diverse crowds New York offered in the subway as I stole more looks at Flynn, who was deep in thought- it seemed. He got more beautiful every time my eyes landed on him- more fascinating. His face didn't all together fit and he wasn't traditionally good-looking, like the boys in my grade- Jem and Heath. He was not what you called hot. He just looked unique- like art. You know those girls who wore mismatched pieces that appeared as if it would never work but somehow it came together when they wore it together. Sort of like stripes and polka dots. Yeah, that was Flynn. I couldn't stop looking at him, no matter how many times I chidded myself.
