Photo Booth Queen And The Not So Cinderella Not So Story

My Liscenes To Float

I am scared awake by a loud gasp.

"No! No! No! No!" I hear Zach screaming from a room. I jump up, shirt twisted, dry drool across my face, and my bun more like a bird's nest.

"Zach," I scream terrified that something happened to him. I race to his bedroom and burst through the doors to see him holding an empty carton of rocky road. I stare at him, out of breath, with my hair falling over my face, "You did all that over some ice cream." I say my panic slipping to anger.

"Adrianna, you finished my ice cream and spilled my milkshake." He says as if it were the most important thing on the earth.

"Are you freaking serious right now?!?! Is it that important at 6 in the morning?" I say reading the clock on his bedroom wall.

"What kind if question is that? Of course it is." He says as if I should know this already.

"Well, if it's that important...." I say sarcastically.

20 minutes later we sit across from each other at Sammy's. He slurps a large vanilla milkshake, while I plan 30 ways to kill him in my head. I can't believe he was serious.

"Lighten up, Adri." He complaints. Of course he'd be calm and Zen when he gets what he wants.

"I'm cranky, because I'm tired!" I fold my arms. He scoots closer to me laying my head in his shoulder. I can smell his Cologne. It smells like somone trapped heaven in a box full of Beyonce, Adele, and Shawn Mendes. And then i heard his heartbeat, it was strong and loud and confident, kind of like him. I didn't even notice myself smiling widely.

"Why are you smiling?" He asks confusingly.

"I can hear your heartbeat." I bite my lip, concentrating.

"And that makes you happy?" He looks at me concerningly.

"Whatever." I move my head, rolling my eyes. He smiles and pushes my head back on his chest.

"If it makes you happy, weirdo."

"I'm the weirdo?" I ask, "well you pick up random girls that smell like alcohol from a party and take them to your house."

"Shh... You'll blow my cover for the next random girl that smells like alcohol at a party that I want to take to my house." He says not realizing the employees were standing close enough to hear our entire conversation. When we look up, they are giving us dirty confused looks.

"Well, I- uh," I try to think of a way out of this awkward moment, "I've consented everything that has happened." He turns his head to look at me as if I was out of my mind, "But- But nothing did happen."

"OK. Time to go." He says putting a tip on the table and standing up. I stood up as he took my hand pulling me out.

"Sorry, it's really not what it looks like." I whisper to the employees as he yanks me away.

"No!" I hear my mom screaming, "you can't do that to me. I-"

My dad cuts her off, "Shut up. You are living under my roof. When you start to pay some bills, then we can reconsider my rules."

"I'm not a child!" She cries before he smacks her. I stand peaking through the door. He continues on to argue and hit her, until I push the door open. They both look at me with tears falling from my eyes.

"I thought you said she was asleep?" My dad bellows sternly.

"I- she was." My mom utters.

"Can you do anything right?" He says grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the room. He snatches my arm pulling me along with them, "Now, you're going to explain this to her."

"OK, let her arm go. She's 4. You're hurting her." My mom whines. He tosses both of us into my bedroom.

"Stop!" I scream loudly in the parking lot. Not noticing it was just a flashback. He drops my arm and notices the tears in my eyes.

"What is it? Are you OK?" He comforts, making me snap out of my trance. I try to speak but the words don't come out, "let's go. You need some air and I know the perfect place to get it."

He seats me in the car. As we pull off, it remains quiet. He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off, "I don't want to talk about it. Just forget it ever happened."

"I was just going to ask do you want to roll down your window?" He looked over at me and I did the same and nodded. He rolled the windows down and we silently drove in his jeep. Minutes later, we were parking in a deserted camp ground entrance.

"Come on." He says getting out.

Part of me wanted to go because i kind of trust him but the toddler in me wanted to say, "No. Are you crazy," so I did.

"No... This is the place to get air. Well, right through there." He points at the creepy trail entrance.  I'm guessing that he notices my hesitation, because he rolls his eyes, "back to this again are we? You aren't my type."

I roll my eyes once again. He holds out his hand. I hesitantly take it and he leads me through the trees. Its a long walk back and it doesnt help that he is leading me because he tugs my arm.

"Zach, I walk for myself!" I snatch my arm from him.

"But you walk too slow." He whines.

"I don't need you to tugging at my arm, its a big pet peeve of mine and it causes bad flashbacks!" I yell. He instantly shows regret. I grab his hand, "this is better." I say calmly. He smiles and then literally walks two steps forward, then stops.

"We're here." He presents a deserted beach, "I don't know about you but the water always calms me."

"Me too." I smile. He replys with a wider smile and then steals my hand leading me to the shore. He looks as of he'd forgotten something.

He runs towards a little cave, man-made by a pile of rocks and pebbles. Grabs a covers and towels, "I made it years ago. My dad and I used to come here almost everyday. I come back occasionally." He says out breath from running there and back. I chuckle.

He begins leading me into the water.

"I don't have on a bathing suit." I say stepping back.

"Does this ever get tiring?" He asks innocently.

"What?" I confusingly tilt my head to the left.

"Second guessing, over thinking, being so pessimistic?"  He says walking to me.

" I am not pessimistic!" I pout.

"Then why do you worry so much?"

"I don't not worry too much!" I repeat.

"Adri, stop worrying. Don't think about anything right now. Just go get lost in the waves with me. It's quite therapeutic, actually." He looks at me with his bright optimistic eyes,  I look at him defensively.

"When did you become my therapist? I am perfectly fine."

"OK, suit yourself." He hold his hands up in surrender.

"OK, wait." I rush after him, "but what about your clothes."

"Not important." He obnoxiously shouts over me.

"What about your car?"

"Don't worry about it. Just float. " he simply states. I let go of my unexplained logic, close my eyes, and let him lead me to the deeper spots.