Till Next Time | completed | currently under re-edit

17

A/N: I know I said I was sick and there will not be an update today but I powered through it coz Mama didn't raise no pussy.

17
I toss and turn between the crisp white sheets with a billion thoughts in my mind.

Do I have everything I can possibly need? Can I do this? Can Anastasia do this?
Will I freeze when she needs me again?

I rub my face until I cannot feel it anymore.
You need to sleep, I tell myself. You have a whole day's worth of driving ahead of yourself.
I reach for my phone, left charging on the nightstand. The screen flashes a 3:00 AM.
Damn it.
I sigh and pull the covers over my head, one last attempt to tame my mind.

I barely hear my screeching alarm when it goes off at 8:00 sharp. Guess I did manage to fall asleep at some point in time.

I run for a shower.

Mom left a few days ago. Apparently, my grandmother needed her again.
Without bothering to dry up first, I check my phone. No messages from Mom.
I sneer.

"Call me every day." She had held my unwilling hand in hers as I carried her luggage down to her cab. "I will call you in the morning the day you start."

I toss the phone back on my bed, almost immediately realizing that I'll be needing it anyway.
Things only hurt you when you grant them the power to.

Anastasia's father insisted on driving her to my doorstep to save me from the "hassle" of making a round trip.
"It's the least I can do," he had said.

I stuff a burnt piece of bread with a disproportionate amount of cheese in my mouth with natural distaste as the familiar sound of wheels pulling up against the gravels reaches my ear.
Picking up Ted lying near my feet, I jog out the door.

Mr. Collins waves at me. "Morning."
"Morning." I run out to his side.
"Good morning, Anastasia," I say upon spotting her half-awake in the car, sitting with her hands on her lap.
"Good morning." She does not look up to make eye contact.
I look over at Mr. Collins's direction. He gives me a reassuring nod.

"So, is everything ready?" he asks me, an attempt to change the topic. It occurs to me that Anastasia may be shy.
"Yes, I loaded the trunk last night."
"Good then. When do you start?"
"Now."

Mr. Collins goes down on his knees and hugs Anastasia. "Take care, monkey. Have fun." He ruffles her hair.
"Dad, you are embarrassing me." She speaks, the first words I hear come out through her mouth since morning.
Mr. Collins laughs and presses a kiss to her temple. "Call, text, send pictures. Eat and stay hydrated."
"I will."

I hold open the door for him as he puts Anastasia in her seat. Accidentally, she looks at me, her eyes still swollen from sleep. We lock eyes and her face turns beet red. I see her press her lips to a thin line, almost trying her best not to laugh out.

I shut the door and turn to face Mr. Collins on intuition. I feel like he has some things to say to me.
He smiles, pats my shoulder.
"Take care, son."
I just nod.

He loads up her bag in the trunk and walks back to his car. I climb into the driver's seat.

As I back out of my driveway, I see him.
Head thrown back, a hand on his heart and another gripping the steering wheel.

I put my foot down on the accelerator and soon, we leave him behind.

Anastasia finally looks over at me. "Where to?"
I sense her finally warming up and making an effort.
I do not look away from the road, out of jitters but reply, "New Jersey."

Anastasia sticks her head out of the window to catch a glimpse of the head of the suspension tower at the George Washington Bridge.

"Isn't it crazy?" she says, almost as if to herself.
"What is?" I ask.
"The fact that someone thought of this." She looks over at me with a childlike wonder. "Someone dreamt of this structure, someone thought that something of this magnitude can exist and he was right. They made it. They did it."

We drive into New Jersey, as announced by the big friendly green board.

It is truly happening.

My stomach grumbles out loud and Anastasia giggles.
"It's okay. We can stop to eat." She opens her phone most probably to google.
I finally slow down.
"Lorenzo's, 4.2, Italian."
"Pass."
"Fire Pit Barbeque. 4.1."
"Sounds like an invitation to acidity."
She laughs. "Do they not have a KFC?" Vigorous typing ensues.
A self-satisfactory grin spreads across her face. "Kentucky Fried Chicken coming through! Five minutes away at some Fletcher Avenue."

I watch Anastasia curiously peck at a chicken nugget.
"What?" She asks me when she spots me looking at her.
"Are you not going to eat that?"
"I had a full breakfast before leaving. We can get it packed."
I nod.

She produces a pen from her backpack beside her and pulls a napkin from our tray.

"We have not set our ground rules yet."
I scoff. "I ran away from home so you can discipline me?"
"Come on, it isn't like I will be requiring you to do squats at four in the morning, " she says while removing the cap from the pen.
"Then what?"
She thinks for a while.

"I can get very irritated very soon. So after a prolonged silence, when you are not so sure, ask me if I want to talk. I hate it when I snap at people."
"Holy shit. This is serious." I wipe my hands on a napkin.
"Yep. Your turn next."
I think. "No driving at night. This is a chance I am not ready to take."
She writes down the points.
"Cool. Knock on doors before entering, " she says.
I nod. "Separate blankets."
She chuckles. "Fair enough. I do not mind sharing beds. So none of that drama where you heroically offer me the bed as you sleep on the floor. Daddy raised me to have manners."
"Okay." I put the used tissue away. "I cannot think of anything else."

She leans her head back and taps the butt of her pen against her lips.
"I got one more."
I finish sipping my cola. "What?"
"No falling in love."

I almost choke on my drink.

"No falling in love with each other. Or other people. No drama. This is going to be a fun time and that's all I want it to be. You?"

For a second, I do not hear her say anything beyond her first sentence, embarrassment burning through all of me.

"Brooklyn?"
"Yes?"
"Do we have a deal?"
"Yes."
"Good." She smiles and puts the napkin back in her bag, rolled around the pen.