Fresh Start -Sodapop x Reader

Exploration

You
           I pushed aside the curtain and stepped out of the shower, the steam following behind and flooding the room like an overflowing river. To dry myself, I pulled the soft, cotton towel off of the rack and wrapped it around my damp body. I always loathed the cold that encompassed me after I left the shower, since the steam could only do so much to heat me up. Cracking open the window next to the sink, I felt the cool air seep into the room and wear away the fogginess of the mirror. Nonchalantly, I brushed a hand across my leg, which I had shaved in the shower and was now basking in the glory of my silky-smooth skin. I shave for no other reason than the exquisite feeling of my pajama pants against my legs at night.
          With a heavy sigh, I pulled out my exfoliant and began scrubbing my face. Once I was finished, since my daily routine isn't too extensive, I walked out of the bathroom and into my room. The house I lived in was big enough so I got my own bathroom, so my room and my bathroom were connected through a pale pink door. The house, and all the decals in it, were much fancier than they were at my apartment back in Minneapolis. including that door.
          My room was simple and clean, with dark wooden floors and three grey walls. The other wall, the one on which my largest window rested, was what Jackson, my dad, called "Chantilly Lace White", though I didn't see the difference between this white and the white he had on the walls in the basement. I had lace grey curtains on the windows, and a record player sitting next to my dresser. I had a few posters of various boybands, boybands which I could tell Jackson had been totally guessing on when he bought them. He wanted me to have something on my walls when I first came, so he went out and blindly bought the first few posters he could find: The Beatles, The Kinks, Elvis Presley, and Dion & The Belmonts. I figured he picked them because he assumed I listened to those artists because they're cute. They are, I'll admit, but I like the music.
          My bed was placed in the far corner of the room, and was a simple black metal frame with a navy blue comforter. Jackson, in an effort to decorate my room to please me, bought one long, fluffy, white pillow that stretched across the majority of the side of my bed; and a bunch of fuzzy or felted or sequined pillows. All I needed was the normal two pillows, but the extras added comfort when I was just chilling out.
          I opened my white closet doors and tugged out a red flare dress with white polkadots. It went down to my knees and had tight long sleeves for the weather. I put my hair up into a ponytail, letting a few strands of hair hang over my face. I grabbed a pair of flats and put them on as I stepped down the stairs.
          "Jackson, I'm headin' out!" I called towards the kitchen.
          "Okay." I heard something crash. "Oh shit. Be careful, (F/n)."
          "Yeah, sure," I replied before walking out the door.
          With a spring in my step, I headed down the street, examining the various houses and places. There was a nice convenience store on the corner of Easton and 5th avenue. To me, Tulsa seemed like a perfectly nice place. I had only been here once before to --reluctantly-- visit Jackson. However, on that trip I hadn't gotten to really explore the place. Since I was going to be living here, I figured I should get to know the place.
          There was a nice diner a few blocks away from my house. A bright neon sign illuminated the bubblegum-pink and turquoise building, labeled, "Way Out". I could vaguely hear some music playing on the jukebox, and a lot of people in the place were dancing around or sitting at a table. I couldn't see too well, but through the window it looked like there were a lot of kids my age. They were dressed similarly, too, but I passed by. I decided to head by there on my way back, hopefully when it'd be less crowded.
          Eventually, the neighborhood began to look a little more sketchy. There were more people loitering on the streets and smoking. I could handle myself, I felt, so I didn't pay it too much thought. I just opened my book and began reading as I walked. No one bugged me, and for once, I wasn't cat-called. That happened a lot to me back in Minneapolis, especially when I was walking home from school. I was told I should take it as a compliment by my friends, but I never understood that. "Why should I take over-sexualization of my body as a compliment?" was what I thought, though my friends would call me crazy.
          At some point during my walk, I got a hankering for a Cola. I looked around and noticed the gas station on the corner across the street. It was pretty empty on the street, save a few girls around my age heading into the same station. I caught the door they swung open and stepped inside myself.
          "Soda!" the cashier called. "Can you take over for a moment at register?"
          "Yeah, I got it!" someone in the back replied, and I heard a girl or two squeal as I stepped to the back of the store, where the fridges were.
          This store is chilly, I thought as I shivered slightly. Tugging open the fridge door, I pulled out the Coca Cola bottle and glanced down at it. I always found the red background and white cursive on the bottle satisfying to look at. I turned back towards the front and headed to the register, listening to the quiet music playing from the speaker by the door.
          Looking down at my purse to pull out the money, I heard a cool voice say, "Will that be all, Miss?"