Make believe

Chapter 21

As I walked down the road in my plain black toms, a nervousness had settled in my stomach. Although I was unsure of what exactly I was nervous about. Walking, I told myself that I really should be investing in a car sometime soon. All my life, I had just walked to wherever I needed to go; the small town made any walk a relatively short one. But as I walked, I realized how impractical it would be, to just go on, walking everywhere; I didn't even have my license yet. As I neared the Cafe, I walked by a dark car parked to the side of the road. I realized it was Ashton's. Curiously glancing inside as I walked passed, I noticed it was just as clean as the time before. It was always clean. There wasn't a crumb on the carpet floor, and the leather seats seemed to shine. The whole thing looked awfully expensive and I began wondering what kind of job he had, then I remembered he was in a band; they all were. It's the strangest thing. It seemed like such a big deal, though I often forget.

I hadn't even heard them play yet. I made a mental note to talk to them about that later as I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

It was relatively quiet, just a single booth being occupied towards the front of the room. Bright sunlight shimmered in through the great windows and brought to life the empty place. I searched for a moment and my eyes landed on a burst of color near the back of the Cafe. Although his hair had been green the last time I saw him, there was no doubt in my mind that as I neared the lilac-dyed head, it was Michael. He was sitting with his back facing the front of the room, at a high table surrounded by tall chairs. Across from his, Ashton saw me and smiled. Michael turned around, whose face lit up when his eyes landed on me. It took me a second to register his bold, new look and how different he seemed. Then I realized, Michaels always bold, no matter the hair color. He playfully hopped down from his seat and pulled me into a hug, which I returned as I said, "Hey ya, Mikey."

He grinned. "Hey cutie." I rolled my eyes as I took a seat at the table across from Ashton. Michael took his place next to me and began looking at the menue. Ashton's hair looked freshly washed; light and fluffy. He sported a tanktop, as usual, with some band's name written across it that I had never heard of. His hands were clasped, his long fingers laced together in a formal sense.

"Laraine." He acknowledged me with a nod and smile.

"Ash." I replied, replicating his tone as I locked my fingers together, mirroring his.

"What have you done today?" he began the conversation. I dramatically sighed and answered, "Absolutely nothing. I read a little. I slept a little. So far, it's been pretty uneventful." I laughed a little at my boring life as he grinned and unclasped his fingers to prop his chin up with with his right hand.

"Sounds nice, actually." he commented. "Sounds relaxing." I ran my fingers through my hair and let out a breathy laugh. "I guess it was."

Beside me, Michael perked his head up. "Is the strawberry cream any good?"

"Uuh, if you like strawberries. I guess." I internally cringed at the thought of the red fruit and it's intense, yet slightly sour taste.

"You don't like strawberries?" The lilac-haired boy crinkled his nose and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Who doesn't like strawberries?" Ashton chirped up, an eyebrow raised.

"I don't know." I groaned. "I just don't."

"I love strawberries." Ashton stated. "Everybody likes strawberries." I sent him a playful glare and heard Michael giggle beside me.

We sat there a few more minutes, chatting about random things and making small talk. Ashton commented about my leaving thier apartment rather abruptly just the day before, which I struggled to shrug off as I guiltily handed him a made-up excuse. I felt his eyes bore into mine, almost sensing there was more to the story; I had never been a good liar, anyway. When I brought up Michael's new hair and questioned him what brought on the sudden urge to change it, his only reply was, "I just do what feels right." That single question drove him to dive in to the rich history that is Michael Cliford's hair. His deep, gravely voice was quite a contrast against his light, excited tone as he droned on and on of all the different styles and colors he had once sported, with Ashton sneaking in a slide comment every now and then. I earned a glare when I commented that one day, he was going to go bald from all the products used on his hair.