Muse

Eleven ~ Smock

Smock |sma'k| noun; a loose garment worn over one's clothes to protect them: an artist's smock. –New Oxford American Dictionary.

Chapter eleven; smock

I slept on the way home. Arthur didn't seem to mind but he also didn't go out of his way to make me comfortable seeing as when we began driving he cranked up the music and jammed out the whole way home. At least I'm assuming he did because Justin Bieber's Sorry was on full blast when he woke me up.

I sit up straight and stretch, feeling like a cat as my back bends and I let out a groan as my muscles stretch out. "Am I home yet?" I ask with squinted eyes.

Arthur looks around at our surroundings and raises an eyebrow at me. "Not exactly. I thought you'd be hungry considering I kept you until past breakfast and lunch." He laughs.

I blink at the McDonald's drive through menu and my eyes zero in on a picture of a double cheeseburger, my stomach responding immediately with an embarrassing grumble. "I guess I'm pretty hungry." I admit, rubbing my stomach.

His crooked smile appears and I find my gaze averting randomly to a strawberry milkshake.

"So. What does your little heart desire? My treat." He gestures to the board with a sparkle in his eye before rolling up the sleeves of his thin grey American Eagle shirt half way up his forearms, a few specks of clay remaining stubbornly on his blonde arm hair.

I lean forward and peer at all of my choices before deciding. "I can't argue with that. I'll take a...double cheeseburger, a medium fry, and chicken nuggets with buffalo sauce." I nod to him firmly and he whistles, looking me up and down.

"Nice. A girl who likes to eat, I like it." He winks at me jokingly and I laugh, not taking it too seriously.

He rolls down the window and places our order and just as he's listed off both of our choices he pauses and looks over at me before adding, "And, uh, can I get two small strawberry milkshakes with that please?"

"Sure thing. Pull up to the first window please." The muffled voiced employee replies.

My mouth drops open and I reach over to shove his arm. "How did you know?"

"Know what?" He asks mischievously with a toothy smile, his dimple appearing like a cherry on top.

I stay silent but force myself to stare out the window so he doesn't see my smile. I guess we really are true friends.

* * * * *

"So you're telling me that you and your friend –"

"Lila." I offer.

"Right, Lila. Went to this guy Phillip Derek's house, snuck through his window and stole a pair of his boxers?" He laughs a bellowing laugh with his mouth full of French fries.

I laugh so hard that I let out a snort which makes us laugh even harder. "H-have you ever seen that movie Sleepover with that chick from Spy Kids?" I ask.

When he realizes what I'm saying he bends over in his driver's seat as he laughs, clutching his stomach. "You're not saying what I think you're saying are you?"

I cover my mouth to contain my laughter. "We saw the movie, decided it would be a good idea to dare each other to do the same. Lila was less of a chicken than I was so while I waited outside his window, she snuck right in. Like the idiot she is she hid in his closet when we heard someone coming. I ducked down but apparently she covered her eyes just in time before he stripped stark naked and finally walked into his bathroom. I still to this day don't think she was telling the truth about not seeing anything." When I finally get the whole story out I allow myself to let out all the laughter I had been holding back, holding my hand to my chest.