Hearts and Other Breakable Things

chapter eighteen ✔️

stevie hopkins
-  march 21, 2018 -

"SO," CHELSEA SLID INTO THE chair next to me. Tossing her textbook on the table, the thump echoed through the almost empty library. I say almost, as the few people who were there turned to look. She smiled with a pen hanging from her lips like an unlit cigarette, "any plans for spring break? Everyone from the club is going down to the coast, have you decided whether or not you're going?"

            I ran a hand through my hair and moved my attention away from my math and to Chelsea sprawled out in the chair in front of me, "Well," I put my pencil in the spine of the book, "I was planning on going home and seeing my family, but I can't really drive with this bum foot."

            "I'll take you," she spoke without a pause.

            "You want to spend your spring break driving me around? I thought everyone from the club was going to the coast. That would include you."

            She shrugged her shoulders with a smile, "Can't afford it. But, trust me, you'd be saving me from sitting around this quiet, little town all by my lonesome."

            I rolled my eyes. She was so dramatic, "You don't know where I live."

            "What? Is that classified information?"

            A laugh escaped me and a few heads turned to glare at our table, "Cottage Grove."

            She stopped for a moment and furrowed her brows, "Where?"

            "It's a quiet, little town," I laughed. "Actually, it makes Kensington feel like a big city."

            Chelsea laughed; her hands covered her face. A sly grin pulled at my lips, but I still ducked when I saw a group get up to leave. There was nothing like being the person that made her laugh like that, "Kensington is far from 'big city'. One day, I'll take you to Vegas... Or maybe New York. Those are big cities."

            I looked down at the homework to hide the smile forming on my lips. Most people who weren't from small towns never truly appreciated the beauty and simplicity of it all.

            "What do you guys do in Cottage Grove? You know, besides tip cows and climb water towers?"

            I looked up and caught her electric stare, "Not much. The internet is slow and gossip is fast. But, hey, what can you do?"

            She laughed, her hand slamming on the table. That was one of the things I liked about her; her laugh always involved her entire body. It was as if every muscle and atom laughed with her. Her laugh brightened the whole world around her. The colors were brighter and the air fresher somehow.

            It was as if for a split second I got to experience the world she lived in every single day. The one she made sound so beautiful when she spoke of it. The one she wrote poetry about. The one so full of life and meaning.