An All-American Summer

Chapter Two

Two days had passed since meeting the mysterious stranger. I hadn't contacted him yet. I was too nervous there had somehow been a mistake, and half of me was sure I had only dreamt the moment up.

It was evening, and I was laying in bed wrapped up in my fluffy white comforter. My cat, black, fluffy, and an all-around asshole, was curled up silently beside me. An unusual event, as he didn't particularly prefer to show affection, but not one I would complain about.

Lights from passing cars danced across my bedroom walls as my record player pumped out familiar music from my favorite seventies albums.

The room was toasty, but not in an oppressive way, and the cat beside me provided my thigh with extra warmth.

My best friend, Laurel, had given me a good portion of my record collection.

For my birthday a few years ago, she was especially proud to present me with three particularly cute Dolly Parton albums. It wasn't until we were halfway through the record that we realized she had accidentally picked up solely instrumental versions of the songs we knew by heart.

It had just been all the more endearing, and with a grin I flipped over to the B side to play wordless Jolene.

I hadn't told her about the handsome stranger.

The evening had seemed so special, so fleeting, and telling another soul occurred to me as borderline sacrilegious. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and I knew that only she could offer me advice as to whether or not I should contact him.

I sighed and squirmed to the other side of my bed to grab my laptop.

It was covered in brightly colored stickers I'd collected from online artists, political campaigns, and craft stores. My favorite addition was a scattering of cute puppies I had picked up at Michael's a month before.

Turning on my laptop with a resigned lack of hesitancy, I drummed my fingers as I waited impatiently for Skype to open. The computer made a little noise, and I quickly double-clicked on Laurel's icon as to call her.

She was the kind of friend that was notoriously hard to reach, and I didn't expect her to open my call on the second ring.

Her grinning face popped up on my screen almost immediately, and I smirked. She skipped the introductions and jumped right to the chase.

"So are you ready to tell me about the new guy in your life?" she asked, shoving Pringles into her purple lipsticked mouth.

"What? How did you know?"

"Because I know you, hoe. And you've been singing that song from West Side Story for the past few days and grinning like you have a secret."

I jumped out of bed and twirled around the room, my face alighted with the starry-eyed remembrance of that impulsive evening. "I could have danced all night!"

My cat let out a startled meow.

"Cat!" Laurel screeched, inhaling more Pringles. "Hello, cat."

He curled up again and entered drowsy slumber.

"He's unimpressed."

She ran her hand through her long black mane of hair and grimaced. "You know, I smell like a fast food restaurant."

"That's what you get for working in the shittiest burger joint in town," I countered.

There was a friendly rivalry between us, as she and I both worked as fast food cashiers but at competing restaurants. Just across the street, while working, I could make out her face sometimes if I squinted.