Dear August

|Eleven|

"Are you sure you're okay?" August asks for the about 20th time. I look at him from the passengers seat, dabbing the towel that the restaurant had given me on my dress and hair.

I nod. "Yeah I'm okay."

We haven't left the lot of the restaurant yet.

"So much for a nice dinner," he snickers a little and places his hands on the wheel. I laugh a bit along with him.

"It's okay, really." I reassure, even though it wasn't, and I wanted to march back in there and punch Sasha in her disgusting little face.

August stared at the restaurant and thinks a moment.

"We can go back to my place?" He suggests. I raise my brows. "Don't worry, my moms are there but they'll be cool."

"Okay, that sounds cool."

He puts the car into reverse and we get the hell out of there. Thank god we did or I would've actually gone back in there.

We pull up to a nice medium sized house. Medium meaning not as huge as Finley's, not as small as my apartment. A nice house that can fit a mom and her two daughters in it.

"Mom?" August calls out from the doorway of the front door.

"Yes?" Two voices call out from opposite sides of the house. One of them emerges from the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel. She  looks like August. Hazel eyes, dark hair, tanned skin.

"Hi honey," her eyes fall onto me. "And..."

"Uh, mom this is Riley."

I offer up a smile. She returns it.

"Oh! This is Riley? I'm so excited to finally meet you, you do not know how much August talks about you!" She shakes my hand. I smirk a little and side eye August.

"Mom," he mumbles.

"I'm mom number one, but you can just call me Maya."

"It's nice to meet you," I smile at her. Another woman descends from the stairs and joins us by the front door.

This one looks nothing like him. Dark brown skin, dark brown eyes, the only thing alike were her freckles that seemed to dot every inch of her skin.

"And I'm mom number two, but you can call me Sarah," she smiles sweetly at me. "So you're the famous Riley? He talks so much about you I-"

"Mom!" August semi-aggressively whispers. "And mom, would you excuse us, we're gonna go now."

He grabs my hand and leads me up the stairs. I turn and offer his moms a smile and a wave before he leads me into a room and shuts the door.

"Um," August rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "I can dry your dress if you want."

"Uh, sure. Thanks."

"So take it off- I mean like take it off so I can put it in the dryer. I'll give you something to wear." He digs through the closet and places a white t-shirt and sweatpants into my hands.

We stand there awkwardly.

"Oh! Sorry, I'll uh... go." He opens the door and closes it awkwardly behind him.

I laugh silently and look around the room as I change. Just like Finley's room, pictures of him with the rest of our friends lined his walls. Pictures that seemed to date back all the way to middle school. Huh I didn't know they've been friends for that long.

I open the door and see August leaning against the doorframe. I hand him my dress and he runs it down the stairs.

"Sorry again for that," he smiles.

"Lots of pictures," I comment trying to make things a little less awkward.

"Yeah. Finley insists that I put them up." He looks around his room.

"So I'm assuming you guys have been friends for a while?"

He sits down on the foot of his bed and looks up at the wall of photos. I sit next to him.

"Yeah. Ever since sixth grade. I was the new kid and they're the only people that talked to me really," he laughs a little. "Just like you." He ruffles my hair.

What a jab. I hit his hand away playfully. "Hey, rude." We smile. "So why'd you move?" I already know the answer. But I want him to tell me. Like actually him. Not someone tell me for him.

"Just some issues with my dad."

"Like?" I don't want to push too far but I want him to be able to talk to me.

He pauses to look at me a minute. "Like..." he trails off and spaces out on the ground.

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me." He looks up at me and I smile. Our eyes linger on each other for a second.

"I'll tell you. But only if you answer a question from me."

"What are we, in middle school?" I tease. We laugh a little. "Okay fine."

August sighs. "My parents divorced when I was five because my dad had figured out that my mom was a lesbian and was basically cheating on him with his best friend."

Oh geez.

"So, that's why I have two moms, which is obvious. My dad always told me though, that he would never stop loving my mom. Because they're best friends. And you can never hate someone that you've built a strong relationship with. Ever. And my mom always said the same thing about him. They still loved each other. Just not in the way that they thought when they were younger.

Two years after the divorce my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer. It was a really short battle. He died three months later. My moms were devastated. So they packed everything up and moved us here."

"August I'm... I'm so sorry," I put my hand on his shoulder sympathetically. He smiles, obviously trying to hide a feeling from me.

"It's okay. It was ten years ago. I've had time to grieve and move on."

Can't say the same about me.

We stay silent for a few seconds. Staring comfortably into each other's eyes.

"So now my question to you," he breaks the silence. "Is why are you always staring at me?"

What the hell. We just had a sort of intimate moment where he opened up to me and now he's asking me this?

I cross my arms and furrow my brows at him. "I do not stare at you."

"Then why am I always catching you?"

"Stop! I'm not! I mean, I don't!"

I didn't realize that he had gotten closer to my face. I can feel his breath hitting my cheeks, sending light shivers down my spine. He inches closer and closer until our lips are just out of reach. I hold my breath and my eyes begin to flutter closed. His lips barely brush against mine then...

"Hey August, I dried Riley's dress so.."

We both jump up and away from each other as mom number one walks into the room, my dress in her hand. She raises her brows.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"No! No, no. We were just talking," I smile and hop up from the bed. "Um, thank you so much. For letting me into your home. And drying my dress and all that. It was so good to meet you, but I need to be heading home now. Curfew, you know."