old friends • tom holland

five

I rolled over, reaching slowly for the alarm clock that abruptly interrupted my dreams. Apparently, inanimate objects didn't care that I was enjoying my dream of attending the World Cup.

I got out of bed and sat up for a minute, thinking about the day. The clock read 8:00, giving me an entire day to do everything that I had planned. Which was absolutely nothing. "Hey, Lucy!" I yelled at my door.

"What? I'm trying to sleep here!" Came the response from the room next door.

"Well, now that you are awake do you want to go get smoothies? I'm hungry."

I heard a thump from the room next door, presumedly Lucy hitting the floor after she rolled off of the bed in the adjacent room. "No, what part of I'm trying to sleep did you not understand? But can you get me one? I don't care what kind, just make it good."

"Sure, pal. I'll be back when I'm back, no juggling in the living room while I'm gone. You'd probably break my tv." I said with a laugh. This was mostly intended as a joke, but a few weeks ago I had caught her attempting to glue a glass vase back together after her foot-skill session took an unexpected turn.

"Whatever you say, dude."

I decided to run to the smoothie place as a short workout, and grabbed a pair of running shorts and a tank top. Once I was dressed and had my hair in a semi-respectable ponytail I headed out the door.

The sun was out and a warm breeze was blowing, making 60 degrees Fahrenheit very comfortable. After several years, my brain had finally learned the Celsius to Fahrenheit equivalents. My feet pounded along the pavement, and I was forced to repeatedly dodge people walking on the wrong side of the sidewalk. After about fifteen minutes I reached the restaurant.

The shop was small and painted in pastel shades on the exterior, with some seating outside. I had discovered the shop during my never ending quest for the greatest smoothie in the greater New York Region, and it was one of the best spots around. I grabbed the handle of the door and went inside, only to immediately step right into someone. My first thought was how sorry I felt for the person that had been unfortunate enough to walk into me, who had just run two miles, and was consequently sweating.

"I'm terribly sorry, I should have been looking where I was going. My apologies." A male voice said in a British accent.

I glanced up at the person who I had collided with. "It's fine, no big deal." I said before doing a double take. I knew that guy. And he had gotten a lot better looking in four years.