Saturday night comes by, and I spend it catching up on my homework. I write my essay for Psychology on humanism and plan out my one for English about writing in the Renaissance.
I feel productive and proud of my work and kind of existential, and I'm thinking of going for a walk to get some fresh air and ponder existence when my phone buzzes, signaling a text from Annabelle.
can u open your door
I look at the message, confused, then shrug even though no one can see me and swing it open.
Annabelle's standing there, bouncing slightly on the tiptoes of her worn sneakers with the most adorably excited smile on her face. Her hands are behind her back, and she's wearing a flowy white tank top and a white skirt with pink flowers that goes down to her calves.
"Hey," I say softly. It's around seven now, and I wonder what she's doing here, looking a 'lil bit nervous but still psyched for something. I don't have to wonder for that long, though.
She sweeps her hands from behind her back and pushes a bouquet of sunflowers and orchids and flowers into my left hand and a warm box from Insomnia into my right.
She then takes me by the elbow and I'm blushing like crazy. She leads me outside. I look at the flowers and smile because they're so beautiful and then I look at her and smile because she's so beautiful.
The next thing I know, we're in front of a blue pickup truck. She opens the door for me, then goes around and swings into the driver's seat.
I put the box in the backseat, and put the flowers in the cupholder. Annabelle looks at me, then takes an orchid from the bundle and sticks it through one of the buns on top of my head.
I blush and laugh, and she smiles.
She starts driving. The moon lights up her skin through the dashboard, and her eyes are sparkling.
She puts in a CD, and presses a button. She twists a knob, and the beginning of Hometown blares through the air.
Then, she pushes another button, and the windows slide open. The wind whips a couple of stray strands of my hair into my face, and Annabelle's dark, dark curls are going everywhere.
I turn up the volume so anyone passing by would be able to hear it. When I place my hand back on the center console, Annabelle takes it and intertwines our fingers as the music surrounds us. She has her eyes on the road, so she can't see the brilliant crimson I expect my cheeks have turned. I wonder if she can hear my heartbeat.
Where we're from, there's no sun
Our hometown's in the dark
We both kind of hum along, but are mostly letting the music envelope us because what else could we possibly need?
She takes us up a road surrounded by trees. I can see a glow on the pavement and the grass from the millions of stars making an appearance.
It's so peaceful in the moment. I take a deep breath and inhale the fresh air, my heart pounding and my cheeks flushed.
When she finally slows down, it's when the song is over. She turns the ignition off and opens her door just as the intro to Paris comes on.
Annabelle comes around and opens my door for me. She grabs a blue blanket and the box of cookies from the backseat. When she joins me, she leaves the doors open so we can still hear the music.
We walk up a small steepened part of the hill, then sit on the blanket for a while, listening to the music blaring from her stereo and feeding each other cookies. After Paris it's Daydreamer, then a song she says is called Heartlines, then a Fall Out Boy song that I don't know the name of.
YOU ARE READING
No really, I'm okay. I'm also a great liar.
RomanceAnnabelle Lee-Davis. Hazel's never met her, or even seen her, but she's in love. Annabelle runs a blog called No really, I'm okay. I'm also a great liar. It's all black and white - photos...