The Game of Life {Completed}

Six

"Hey, there you are!" Phil exclaimed when I made it to his car; it car was almost as bright a blue as his hair. His back was to the car, leg up behind him, a cigarette between his pointer and middle finger.

"You smoke?" I asked, fixing my bag on my shoulder.

"Yeah, but not too often," he said, throwing the finished cigarette on the ground and stomping it out with his foot. "You okay? You look like you don't want to be here. We don't have to go, you know." Why was he so nice?

"No, I'm good. Just got a lot of stuff on mind."

"Oh, okay. Well, hop in, let's go!" He was also confident as heck. I got in the passenger seat and watched him struggle to start the car.

"Sorry, it does this every time, fucking piece of-"

"Hey," I interrupted. "Don't swear." I hated swearing; I heard it so often from my mother, and father when he was around, that I hated hearing it. I was used to Sandy swearing occasionally now, but I didn't want Phil to start.

"Oooh, you're a goody-two-shoes," he snickered.

"Don't call me that," I retorted.

"Oooh, he's feisty too," he laughed. I sunk in the seat and he drove off.

"So," he started after a moment. "Tell me about yourself?" He phrased it like a question, as if I had the choice to tell him or not; and maybe I did.

"Um, what do you want to know?" This was one of my least favourite questions, as I could never come up with an answer.

"Honestly, why you were at the hospital-"

"I told you, I had a doctor's appointment," I lied.

"But what for? Anyway, I know you probably don't want to answer that, which I get, so, um, favourite subject?" I thought for a minute. I tried to think of a favourite subject but I could only think of one other thing- should I tell him? I had never told anyone other than Sandy about my anxiety, so, should I tell him? Without even thinking, because I knew if I thought too much I'd never do it, I blurted it out.

"I was there for my anxiety." It was silent for a minute. I really wanted him to say something- but did I? I wasn't sure.

"Oh," he said. Oh? Oh? What does that mean?

"I mean, I-"

"No, it's okay. Sorry, that was a shit reaction-"

"Swearing."

"Hey. Anyway, it's okay. Thanks for telling me." He sent me a more reassuring smile.

"Your personality doesn't fit your clothing choice." He laughed.

"Heh, yeah, a lot of people who actually get to know me say that. The rest of them just think I'm either a sexy bad ass or an asshole." I couldn't help but chuckle. "What, do you think I'm an asshole?" He said, causing me to laugh more.

"N-no, I-"

"Okay, so you think I'm a sexy bad ass?" I was laughing the way where you're grinning as wide as possible and in that moment, life's at a peak.

"You're cure when you laugh like that, you know," he informed me when I calmed to small chuckling. I couldn't control the blush in my cheeks, and he seemed to notice. I shook my head and he only sighed and said, "one day you'll believe me- one day."

"Okay, here we are," he said as we pulled up to a typical hipster-like coffee shop. It was quaint, and certainly not busy. He hurried out of the car so he could get to my side and open the door, even though I had it opened half way already.