The Promise

four

Year 2008 - Fall

"Where are we going?" I ask, anxiously. Louis decided he was going to take me out in his new car tonight. He's had his license for a couple of months now, but he was so particular about the car he wanted that he's only just now getting one. But now, sitting in the passenger seat of his red Jeep Wrangler, I'm glad he waited so long. The car fits his personality so well, I can't even fathom him driving anything else.

"Just keep quiet, it's an adventure!" He says back, keeping his hands tightly gripped on the wheel and never taking his eyes off the road. I love watching him so concentrated on something. He knits his brow, taking his eyes off the road for a millisecond to check his speedometer. My mom must've really scared him well when he came to get me. She warned him that if anything happened to me, she would personally hunt him down and make him pay for it. My mom isn't strict, just protective is all, after all she's lost.

I look out the window, daydreaming about where Louis could be taking the two of us. The fall sun was just near setting, the sky was just about to get to that time of day where its about four hundred different colors. I catch a glimpse of myself in the side view mirror. The freckles lightly dusting my face were beginning to fade with the loss of summer, and my long red hair was loosely curled. Louis told me he liked it that way once, so I've made it a point to do it anytime he invites me out. Louis also told me once that he hated when girls wore too much make up, so I began gradually laying off a bit. Just a little moisturizer and mascara. I start to mess with my curls and reposition them exactly how I want to when I feel a gust of wind blow my hair across my face.

"Louis!" I yell over the wind.

"What ever did I do this time?" He shouts back, laughing.

"Roll the window up right now!" My hair was everywhere now. I had a mouthful of ginger hair, and I felt my way to the window switch. I finally find it an begin to roll it up, feeling relieved with every inch it rises.

"Wait, Lydia, stop," He says, and I do as he says. "Lean towards me," I feel the butterflies take flight in my stomach and lean his direction. Once I do, I hear my window start to rise again. "Okay, you're good. You almost rolled your hair up into that!" He says, laughing. I playfully slap his arm and lean back to my seat.

"Why would you do that, anyway?" I wonder aloud. My hair was beyond fixing now. I sweep my bangs to the side and look over at him, his eyes back on the road.

"I don't like when you primp yourself," His face turns slightly pink, and he still stares straight ahead. Why would he say something like that? Obviously because there's no point in fixing your hair or your makeup, it's not gonna get any better. My subconscious bluntly states. I hated her for always overthinking everybody's comments to me; especially Louis'. He pauses, licks his lips, and continues, "You look fine, and it's just me. Who're you getting all perfect for?"

You, you, it's always been you.

"I think you sometimes forget I'm actually a girl and not your 'bro'," I say, instead. It's a much safer option. You know in the movies, when the girl and the boy are best friends, she just blurts out she's in love with him over dinner or something? Yeah, it's way harder than that. I'm too afraid of ruining what we have to say anything.

After driving for a few more minutes with just the sound of the radio, we pull up to a tiny ice cream place off the highway. The bright yellow building doesn't strike me as a place Louis would come to, ever. Picnic tables surrounded the outside of the small, concrete building. Beyond the building was a wheatfield; not uncommon for northern California.

Walking in, the small shack was just two tables and a counter. Louis and I stare through the glass guarding the different ice cream flavors for awhile before deciding what we always do: get two different things and share them both. It didn't matter what was being ordered, whether it be fast food or coffee, we always got two different things and shared.