Hours

29- Friday, May 18th

8:55 AM

I hop eagerly into the passenger seat, Micheal taking his place behind the driver's seat. For a minute, neither of us move, and he doesn't make to start the car. I realize he's waiting for me to give him directions. I laugh awkwardly, giving him the address. Micheal turns the car on, and a song blares loudly through the speakers again, just like at the lookout.

Micheal jumps, his hand reaching to turn the volume down. I grab his wrist before he can, grinning encouragingly. "I want to hear it," I say, continuing to grin. Micheal just shrugs, a smile playing on his lips, before backing out of the driveway, rolling down the windows as he goes.

Way up, way up we go

Been up and down that road

Way up, way up, oh no,

We gon' burn the whole house down

I look at Micheal as he drives, an easy smile on my face. "Who's this?" I ask, referring to the song still blasting over the speakers.

Micheal hesitates again, not to think, but just to check that I'm being serious again. He still can't believe I'm actually interested. I roll my eyes, sighing.

"Micheal, come on. I'm not going to laugh; I asked you, for heaven's sake!" He gives a small shrug, and I say, "I wouldn't ask if I was going to laugh, would I now? Come on, you can trust me."

Micheal sighs now, shaking his head. "I know... It's just," He pauses, looking for the right word, "Different, I guess. To have someone care. Seriously care, about something as normal as what music I listen to. No one has, not since..." He trails off, and I finish the sentence for him,

"Your mom." He nods, and I sit there quietly for a minute, listening to the music and thinking. "I get it, okay? It's been a long time, much longer than it should have been. But you don't have to be like this with me, okay? You can trust me; you can talk to me. I'm not going to laugh. I swear, I'm not."

Micheal is silent for another minute, but eventually, he nods again. "Thanks. I know. I'm sorry, I just- it's different." He says again. "Thanks, though."

"Of course," I reply. I jump when, a second later, Micheal starts laughing. I throw him a look, but he waves me off, saying,

"Sorry. You just asked who this was,"

"Yeah," I say, still confused.

"Well, it's still AJR. Don't you recognize the voice?" He glances over at me quickly, smiling. "From last night?" I nod my head, listening closer to the singer's voice. It is the same singer, that much is for sure. "The car probably just picked up whatever I was playing last and kept it going," Micheal says sheepishly, shrugging. "What'd you say I put on something else, huh?"

"Wait until we're on the main road," I tell him, seeing my street in the distance. "We're almost here."

"Speaking of which, where are we going after this? Specifically?" Micheal asks, and I struggle to remember the name of the beach.

"Pass me your phone, I'll put in the directions," I tell him, once I think I've gotten the name. 'My phones completely dead," I say by way of explanation when Micheal shoots me a weird look. Still, he unlocks his phone and opens Google before handing it to me. After a few attempts with the spelling, I get directions to what I hope is the right beach, just as Micheal pulls in front of my house.

"I'll be two minutes," I say as I slide out of the seat, jogging lightly towards the front door.

Once inside, I take a deep breath, trying to ignore the thoughts of doubt that are settling into my mind.

Are you seriously doing this? Are you crazy? It's not like he likes you.

I shake them off, heading upstairs.

Which is when I realize my dilemma. What the hell am I going to wear? I shake my head in disbelief. As I grab different shirts and shorts out of my closet, I realize more and more that I have nothing to wear. Too small, too slutty, too fancy, too casual. Nothing I pull out work, and pretty soon almost my entire wardrobe is on the ground. I groan in frustration.

Figuring that the best way to work this out would be to step back from the situation for a moment, I grab my bathing suit and head to the bathroom to change. While in the bathroom, I look up and see my hair and face. My hair is tangled, everywhere; a complete mess. My face is pale and my eyes are tiny, the bags underneath completely overshadowing them. I immediately reach for my makeup bag and hairbrush, but then I hear the honk of Micheal's car horn.

Time is up.

Sighing, I rush back into my bedroom, grabbing just a white shirt and a pair of denim shorts. Am I overestimating the heat of May? Most definitely. Do I care? Not an ounce.

I throw them on over top of my bathing suit, rushing back down to the front door. I grab my purse off of the table where I had dropped it when I came in. I hesitate before I open the door, wondering whether I should leave a note for my Dad. My hand stays on the doorknob for a second longer than I mean to, and I shrug, thinking, What the hell?

I leave the sticky note on the kitchen fridge, before running out the door towards Micheals car. When I slide back into the passenger seat, he gives me a joking look of annoyance before bursting back into a grin. I smile back, suddenly forgetting my outfit and hair and face. The open road is ahead of us, we're doing something reckless, and there may be consequences but we can face those later. Right now all there is... all there is, is now.

~

Dad,

I don't know if you noticed, or if you came home last night, but I wasn't here. Don't worry, everything fine. I just had something to do.

I have something else to do today. Something important. So if you get any calls from the school, don't worry. I know what I'm doing. I think I deserve a break.

I think we need to talk in person. About Mom. Don't call my phone- it's dead- but I'd still like to talk... I think it's past time.

Maybe tomorrow we can go for a hike at the lookout? I think that'd be really nice.

I love you,

Kayla