Dancing on the Moon {h.s.}

7. It Has Been A Beautiful Fight. Still Is.

When I was a sophomore in high school, I was invited to this gathering one of my friends was hosting. I wasn't planning on going until I heard that this guy I fancied, Beck, was going to be there. Of course, lovestruck Jayden threw on her high-waisted jeans, signature yellow tee, and her converse. I even took to great measures and applied some dark eyeshadow and mascara.

So I showed up with Boston by my side, who instantly got carried away with the games and talk. I, who couldn't stand small talk, decided I'd take a walk around the house and adjust myself to the sweaty environment I was going to be in for the next four or so hours. In other words, I went looking for Beck. Unfortunately, I found him in one of the rooms upstairs, smoking joints with a couple of his friends and listening to trashy trap music. Him and the boys teased my obnoxious surfer hair and my eyeshadow that apparently made me look like a stripper, in their words. Then they offered me a joint and, obviously, I accepted it.

But because I was angry. Not with him for being like all the other boys. But at myself, for believing in the notion that you will find that one guy who is romantic enough, who shows you you're enough, who loves you enough. Who is enough. And not just a pothead with a horrible taste in music and women. But lo and behold, that's when it hit me.

Chivalry was as alive as bullshit.

Yet I don't know why I'm still riding my bike towards the beach, past the people and past the trees I normally sit under. I don't know why I'm leaving it all behind to go see a boy who will never re-ignite that spark. And because I don't know, and will probably never get an answer, I keep riding.

There's a relatively big grassy area where people bring their dogs and kids to play. I ride past that and past the traffic light, seeing the sun about to set on the water. I pass the white bars set on the ground, holding people back from falling down the small cliff. I cruise the bike down the concrete slope, the wind giving me goosebumps as I smile at the thrill offered.

The slope comes to an end like every other good thing I have ever experienced, and I come to a halt. My eyes scan the area, only to see a familiar figure sitting on the cemented walls, his head buried in a tiny book. A maroon collared shirt adorns his top half as the same black, skinny jeans complement his lower half. Then I roll my eyes when I see the cream-colored, Chelsea boots on his feet. At the beach.

I ride over to him and he looks up, astonished.

"I know. I'm full of surprises, aren't I?"

He laughs. "I just thought you'd never show up."

"I'm a man of my word, Harry," I say as he jumps off from the wall, dusting himself off.

"A man?" he asks as he chuckles.

"A man," I confirm as we begin walking.

"I see you, uh, brought your means of transportation with you," he points out as I hum in response. "You rode that the whole way here?"

"I don't live far. Just off of Tamarack."

"Gotcha. Where are we going?" he suddenly asks as he looks down at me thoughtfully.

"You're the one who proposed I come. You lead the way, stranger." He chuckles and looks the other way, guiding us through the little path and up the hill, away from the ocean. He leads me across the street and into a small coffee shop, tucked away from all the ruckus and chaos.

After I park my bike by the wall, we walk up to the baristas and he orders a latte with an extra shot of espresso, and I order an Americano. He raises his eyebrow in impressment. He probably expected me to ask for an Oreo blend. He offers to pay but I slap his hand and hand the barista my debit card, punching in my pin. Harry lets out a frustrated sigh when I pay for his, too.

"That was humiliating, you know."

I try to act oblivious as we take our seats at a table in the corner. "What was?"

"Paying for my coffee. It's disgusting."

"Everybody's entitled to their opinion," I say as I crumple the receipt in my palm. He plays with the pages of his book. "What've you got there?"

"You Get So Alone At Times It Just Makes Sense," he says, nodding in rhythm.

"Didn't take you for an introvert, Harry."

"Actually," he begins, "the book made me an introvert. Would you like to hear something?"

I roll my eyes. "Sure, if it helps your ego."

He does a double take and sighs, shaking his head at my stubbornness. He flips the book open to a page he seems to have bookmarked. "As the shadows assume
shapes, I fight the slow retreat, now my once-promise. Dwindling, dwindling. Now lighting new cigarettes, pouring more drinks. It has been a beautiful fight. Still is."

I raise my eyebrows. "What the fuck."

His laughter surrounds the place as he keeps looking at my face and I quickly gather myself. "Good, am I right?"

"Why the fuck are you reading Charles Bukowski?" I ask, bedazzled.

"Because," he begins, "the man was a sex-driven intellectual who had a drag or two here and there. Who wouldn't want to read his books?"

"I'm my own sex-driven intellectual. And in fact, I don't have a drag or two. I have three," I say, folding my arms and leaning back. He chuckles.

"You're a sex-driven being? More importantly, you're an intellectual?"

I hurl the balled receipt at him and he throws it back to my face, but misses by a long shot. "You don't know anything."

I was slightly impressed. Well, slightly was an understatement. I was over the top. This boy hasn't stared at my breasts or made a nasty remark about me ever since we met. He's sat his ass down and listened to me.

But alas, Jayden Carter Morris' spark will never be reignited.

"Actually, I do," he says and I roll my eyes. "I do, Jayden. I really do."

"Enlighten me," I reply, giving him a playful look.

"You fight. A lot. Not in the ruckus way, but in a purposeful way. I can tell. I'm not dumb. Which is why you keep pushing me to fight for what I want. Even if it's something as stupid as getting your number."

I snort. "Okay, keep amusing me."

"And you know what, Jayden? I never got your number. I fought to get here in this seat with you. I took the risk to show up. Big or small, it was a beautiful fight," he says. I just keep watching him. "Still is."

-

A double update is probably my biggest accomplishment in life yet.

Hope the weekend treated you good.

Love

E. x