Meet Me in the Forest

Author's Note: So this is a slight remix of one of the scenes from the novel The Scarlet Letter. All of the names are changed, and it's set in modern times. Just wanted to clear that up for those of you who may have read the book and find a few things slightly familiar. Haha. And, yes, this is all I have. It's sort of a "one-shot", if you will. I hope you guys like it!  - emylouwho

~.~

My Converse dragged back and froth across the leaf-covered earth of the forest ground below me, pushing a few pieces of foliage away to reveal the gravel-filled soil. The large rock I was sitting on was cold beneath my solid denim shorts and solid colored leggings. Cool autumn air cut through an abundance of maple trees, patches of sunlight hitting random spots on the ground through what was left of their leaves. Behind me, a brook babbled between rocks and a few fallen branches. My impatience was quickly growing as the gap between when he was supposed to be here and the time it was at the moment increased.

I checked my watch, grimacing at the time, 4:30, and what it almost failed to cover: a dark red “A” tattooed onto my right wrist. Flashes of the night in which I acquired it rushed through my head in a blurry mass. Red plastic cups skewed all over a carpeted floor; multicolored lights dancing across my vision; hot breath tickling my neck as a voice coaxed me away from the crowd; obnoxious, drunken laughter being heard faintly coming from outside a locked bedroom door. I bit my lip as I remember the last, nearly killer detail: sterling blue eyes above me, filled with intoxicated lust. My thoughts were broken by the sound of a twig snapping a couple feet away from me. I looked up, but fail to see anyone. Then a voice rang out from behind a few trees.

“Hanna? Hanna, where are you?” Took him long enough.

“Over here!” I shouted, getting up from my position on the boulder. And there he was: Robby Dillon, the self-proclaimed church boy. What a ridiculous guise that is now. His long, black trench coat was buttoned on only the two middle buttons, allowing the white v-neck that he wore to peek out slightly. Dark-wash, bootlegged jeans starkly contrasted the light colored top, but seemed to pull the outfit together well, along with his obviously expensive sneakers. I couldn’t wrap my head around why he would dress so well when he was fully aware he would be hiking through the woods, but I let it slide. His blond hair caught a ray of light, giving him almost an angelic glow, which I found ironic.

“Jesus, there you are. I almost didn’t see you.” He smiled sweetly at me, his eyes sparkling. Oh, what a love-hate relationship I was having with those stupid, gorgeous blue eyes. He stumbled towards me, almost tripping over a fallen branch in the process. Is it possible for someone to have better coordination when they’re drunk?

“Well this spot isn’t exactly well lit.” I joked back, walking towards him. I tried not to seem as tired and perturbed as I felt. The last thing I needed was pity from him.

“True, but...” he stepped closer to me, “You still look nice.” He smirked, a small dimple forming on his noticeably pale cheek. A blush covered my own face at the flattering comment, but I almost laugh at how wrong he is. I was painfully aware of the dark circles under my eyes, and the severe lack of makeup I have on. I didn’t have time this morning to do anything special with my hair, so I pulled it back into a knotted, ratty ponytail that looks more like a jet-black mess than anything else. The Yankees baseball cap I had on almost made the messiness of it more obvious. I played with the zipper of my black Northface and muttered a thank you, looking down and over to the side.

As much as I wanted to avoid the painful subjects in the beginning, he clearly had other things in mind; because the first thing he asked me was, “Where’s Prudence?”