You should expect to see nude college kids and glitter at summer festivals in Florida. Me and my best pal, Dalia, always try to make it every year to see our favorite bands with the cash found under seats of the car.
This year we're dressing as modern hippies with tribal markings made out of paint. Dalia is an aspiring artist and I really admire her attempts at painting on a canvas.
"You know, I was thinking that maybe you should try to get into sculpting."
Dalia shook her head back and forth, laughing for the millionth time. "So, what you're saying is that my artwork's a bust?"
I never wanted to hurt her feelings although she was guaranteed to only be mad over something for about a few minutes. I decided to let it go.
As we continued to listen to the band that was playing, Dalia finished up her own touch of paint symbols on my cheeks. "Perfect! Let's go find some cute guys, Marley." She grabbed my hands and pulled me from my seat in the grass before I could protest. We began by heading closer to the crowd that was bunched in front of the stage. They were all swaying side to side in unison; their lighters or cell phones lit up in their hands. It looked really peaceful and beautiful, so I decided to join in. I was wrapped up in the slow song and in my own little bubble of happiness and somewhat hope that everything will be okay.
My atmosphere changed when suddenly a tall boy with handsome eyes laid a hand on my shoulder.
I immediately found Dalia as she crept up behind him. She tackle-kissed him and their laughter was heard over the current song.
...Looks like someone popped my happiness bubble.
I had to nudge her on the shoulder to get her attention away from the boy. "Hey, Dal, who's this?"
My eyes wandered back to the boy standing in front of me. His vision was locked onto me. It was uncomfortable, especially after witnessing his makeout session with my closest friend.
He reached out his hand to shake mine. I let him hang. "I'm Harry," he said, his deep accent booming. He casually dropped his hand.
"Marley," I spoke in reply. I could feel my cheeks burning up and I really hoped no one noticed them yet.
There was a pause as I tried to reach out to Dalia for help through sisterly brain waves. She obviously didn't get the memo. Instead she repeatedly squeezed Harry's arm, even though he made noticeable facial expressions. I couldn't help but laugh.
Harry pulled away from her grip to take a step closer to me. A little too close. His loose curls brushed against my even hotter cheeks. "What's so funny, hippie girl?" He said, whispering in my ear.
I merely shrugged. "I knew that she was crazy, but not promiscuous. Did you drug her?"
I was joking with him, but not really. I couldn't figure out why she decided to not tell me about Harry, even though it was her idea to meet someone this summer. My reply to her was a lame "no thanks."
Harry leaned back to look at me. "Nah, I'm not one of those guys. I met your lovely friend a couple nights ago. I would've assumed that she told you about me already, yeah?"
I didn't have to think before answering. "No, not really."
I have more than a few feelings why she didn't bother to tell me.
