bridges » david dobrik

6

"Are you not getting out?" David leaned down to stare at me, still seated in the passenger's seat of the car. My eyes flickered between the grimy looking gas station, my bare feet, and David.

"I'd prefer not to," I sighed, but when David's expectant eyes didn't leave my face, I hopped out onto the mildly warm pavement, pulling my shirt down to cover as much as possible. "Come in with me."

"What if someone tries to steal the car?" he reasoned, like that was a super common occurrence that everyone should be worried about on a Monday morning in the Middle of Nowhere, Nevada.

"I think I'm more likely to be raped, murdered and chopped into pieces by the attendant or a trucker than our car be stolen in the three minutes it takes to buy a pair of flip flops," I sarcastically smiled when David made his way towards the entrance, me following closely behind. The station was just as gross as it looked from the outside; the dark brown tiles seemed to be covered with a layer of grime, the air was filled with a light but distinct smell of weed, and the young, scrawny attendant didn't feel the need to hide his wandering eyes on my body.

It didn't take too long to find the small gift shop-esque section, and David quickly grabbed the flip flops brandished with the word "Nevada" over and over again, ripping off the tag and dropping them to the floor for me to put on. They were a little big, but the sandals were one size and the only shoe this store had, so they'd have to do.

We returned to the counter to pay, and I quickly grabbed an intriguing magazine, placing it onto the counter next to the flip flop tag. David shot me a look, but with a mumbled what? under my breath, he gave up.

"Hey, ain't you that Jennifer girl?" the attendant's head tilted to the side in confusion, and I immediately tensed up. My eyes widened in shock, ducking my head down so he couldn't get a good look at my face. How the fuck did he know? How did he know? "From that Mr. Phelps movie?"

"No, I'm not," I smiled politely, tucking a curl behind my ear. "I've gotten that before, though."

The man gave me a questioning look, like he didn't quite believe me, but David had paid and we were ready to go. I rushed out of there as quickly as possible, keeping my head down the entire way.

"What was that about?" David asked once we were settled back into the car.

"Some actress named Jennifer something. People say I look like her," I explained halfheartedly, then immediately changed the subject. "Are you ready, Dobrik?"

"For what?" he asked as he put the car into drive. I held up the magazine and his eyes flickered between it and the road. "What is that?"

"Twenty questions to ask on a first date (and twenty to not)," I read one of the larger titles out loud. "I thought if we're going to be stuck in the car for another seven hours, we could at least do something kind of fun."

"So, this is a date?" David's smirk was so smug that I wanted to slap it off his face.

"You know what I meant, dickwad," I rolled my eyes, hitting him in the chest with the magazine. Flipping it open, I searched for the story and found it somewhere towards the middle, skimming until I landed on the first question to ask. "What do you do—oh, we know the answer to this one. Where are you from originally?"

"Slovakia," David answered, and I was almost shocked. I had to wonder when he moved to America, seeing as he spoke perfect English with no trace of an accent (other than a Chicago accent). He didn't elaborate, though, ending his statement with, "What about you?"

"I was born in LA," I answered as vaguely as possible, skimming the list to find the next question. "Next, find out where they've studied and what subjects they took."

"I didn't go to college," was David's simple answer, which he accompanied with a laugh.

"Me either," I nodded along. "What do you like to do outside of work?"

"Uh, I don't think I can accurately answer that," he decided after a few moments of deliberation. "My work is also my life outside of work. What do you do when you're not shushing kids in the library?"

"Hey, I'm a fun librarian," I nudged him lightly in the ribs, giggling when he jerked away with a shriek. "I don't do much. I pretty much go home, go to work, and go to McDonald's. Um, what kind of TV-slash-music-slash-movies are you into?"

"What kind of question is that?" he shrugged. "I like everything, pretty much."

"Me too," I shrugged, even though I hated comedies that weren't The Good Place, rap, and country music. He didn't think it was a good question, so I wasn't going to answer. "Where have you travelled?"

"I've been to Brazil when Obama was president, but since Trump is trying to take my DACA away, I can't leave the country," he explained, and I nodded.

"That sucks."

"Yeah, I know," he laughed. "All my friends go to Bali and Japan and all these cool places, and I can only go to Hawaii. Not that Hawaii isn't amazing, but you know what I mean."

I avoided the question all together, moving on to, "Who's your celebrity crush?"

"Oh, Ariana Grande, for sure," he said instantly, without a second thought. It was kind of cute. "You?"

"Tom Holland," I answered after a few moments of thought. "Or maybe Dylan O'Brien. They're both sexy as hell."

"True," David joked. "Can we move onto questions you shouldn't ask on the first date? These are boring."

"Okay, jeez," I scoffed, flipping the page to get to the more raw and real questions. I personally believed these were the questions you should ask on a first date; the best way to get to know someone is to ask a question that might make them uncomfortable. "How much money do you make, Dobrik?"

He awkwardly laughed, then said, "Next question."

"That's what I thought," I mumbled, laughing when he lightly slapped my thigh in protest. I noticed his hand didn't leave its place on the top of my thigh, but I didn't say anything. "Who did you vote for in the last election?"

"Hillary," he said, and I breathed a sigh of relief. "You too?"

"Yeah. Fuck Trump," I joked (though it wasn't quite a joke), then moved down the list a few to find a juicier question. Thinking back to his extremely popular break up video, I laughed as I asked, "What went wrong between you and your ex?"

"My god," David pushed some of his brown hair up off his forehead. "I don't know. We grew apart, I guess. We were both too busy."

"Where do you see this relationship going?" I questioned, tilting my head in mock confusion.

"Hey!" David protested with a chuckle. "That's not fair. You didn't answer the last question."

"Oh, I don't have an ex," I awkwardly shifted in my seat, which made David realize his hand was still on my thigh. He quickly removed it, as if the thought alone burned him. "But I see this relationship going to LA."

"You've never had a boyfriend?" David replied in shock, completely ignoring my answer. "Why?"

"Oh my god, I don't know, David," I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "No one's ever asked me out, so I would never have a boyfriend. That's kind of how it works. Next question: what's your biggest regret?"

"Someone has asked you out before," David ignored me once again. "There's no way. You're fucking pretty and you seem okay personality wise."

"Gee, thanks," I sarcastically mumbled under my breath. "Glad I'm just okay."

"You seem like you have a wonderful personality," David corrected himself. "So someone has asked you out, and you've said no."

"No, they really haven't," I told him. "I keep to myself. You are honestly the first guy I've talked to in years."

"Hmm," David smiled smugly. "Well, I'm glad to be your first."

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