binded

grace ; queen bee

Before I could allow my mind to process each decision that I make, the mindset that I am now in drastically differs from that of how I thought prior to meeting Zane. He's somehow found a balance in life between not giving a shit and still being successful. If he can do that, why can't I? His ability to still maintain a rebellious persona and also do well in school has inspired me.

That is why the two of us sneak out through one of the doors of the school and rush to his car in the back of the parking lot. We get in and I quickly notice that the car is rather nice, the passenger seat seemingly untouched. The only thing that I notice is that the seat is rather far up, as if a child was sitting there before.

"My brother." he explains, strapping in as I hesitantly sit down and shut his door, "He's really short for his age."

"How old is he?" I ask, wanting to find any topic of small talk that can potentially make the drive to Pulse not as uncomfortable.

"Eight."

My attempt at distracting the conversation works and we end up discussing our families for the entire drive. I learn that his parents are divorced and that his biological father stayed behind in Chicago. He seems happy to say that his mother is a forensic scientist and has a goofy smile whenever he discusses anything involving the crimes that she has successfully solved.

When we find a parking spot nearby the front of the coffee shop, we both remain in the car and simply stare at the building. His car still smells new, but the car freshner overpowers the new-car scent and I feel as if I am surrounded by millions of apple trees. The sour scent consumes me in a tornado, but the storm ceases when Zane opens up his door and gets out of the car.

We walk into the little coffee house, the fireplace illuminating with dancing flames and a comfortable aura throughout the building. Cushioned seats surround the fire and a short line of people wait before the cashier to provide them with their orders.

The aspect about Pulse that I enjoy is that a portion of the menu has been written and named after frequent customers and their drinks. A girl who graduated from Silver Valley two years ago, Maisie, got a shot of espresso every day prior to classes and now if you want a shot of espresso, you order a Maisie. I haven't been given a name for my order, a s'mores frappuccino (marshmallow syrup, chocolate-espresso milkshake and whipped cream with graham crackers). It has been considered, but not officiated by the manager.

"Do you even like coffee?" I ask, Zane's eyes wandering and absorbing every aspect of the cafe.

"A bit, I've only had it a few times. But everyone called me a basic white girl for it." he shrugs, seeming to regret what he said.

"Well I don't think that you're a basic white girl." I tell him with a smile, still noticing his subtle discomfort, "What?"

"Nothing, let's just get our orders."

Zane decides on ordering a simple hot chocolate while I get my specialty. We find a small table close to the fire and take careful sips of our respective drinks. Every time that I look up to see him, his eyes quickly drop to the table. This causes me to think. Why do I invite him to coffee? Or allow him even interact with me? It hits me, that maybe those wasps that slam into the inner linings of my stomach could be vicious butterflies that are trapped and trying to break free and unleash the truth of how I feel for him.

Damnit, I think that I like Zane.

The next day, I text Zane to meet me by my locker after school. I've had an entire night to fully process my situation and how the wasps have morphed into butterflies with wings like a canvas. It's not like wasps can just go into a cocoon and pop out as magnificent creatures (I'm Gracelyn Russell, I would know something as simple as cycle of a caterpillar into a butterfly or that bugs can't just transform into another type of bug!). I reorganize every binder more than once, making sure that they are in the correct order from first period to last as I hear Zane's voice echo down the hallway.

"What did you want to see me about?" he asks, looking eager to leave school, "I have to get my little brother."

"Do you want to...come over?" I blurt out, smacking my palm to my mouth, "I mean, to work on psychology stuff. I was a bit confused on the notes today and you seemed to understand the concept pretty well."

"Sure, I mean yeah." Zane nods, running his fingers through his swoop of hair so it falls back onto his head, "Today?"

I shake my head no, preparing for the butterflies to spread their wings and make a grand escape, "My mom are going to be home. What about Thursday? She doesn't get off work until around 7:45."

"Thursday it is."