Ethereal | RJ (HSMTMTS)

Part 4

EJ's POV

I never get distracted while driving. Even when my friends are loud and drunk in the backseat, or when Freya is doing her makeup in the mirror beside me while humming songs by girl group Dream. Yet for some reason, this curly-haired boy just sitting quietly in the passenger seat steals my eyes from the road a potentially dangerous number of times. I don't know what it is about him. I shouldn't be this drawn to him. I shouldn't be glancing over to catch a glimpse of his faint smile that hasn't left his face this whole drive, or his eyelashes that flutter when he blinks, or his nose. He has a cute nose. Wait, no... What am I saying? Now he's looking at me. Look away, EJ. I snap my eyes straight ahead and focus on our next destination, which we're coming up on right now, having already dropped the groceries off at home.

Ricky's whole body straightens up as he gazes upon the giant rock the size of two houses that's just sitting here in the middle of the flat grass of the wide-spread valley. I'm used to this, because it's what the folks at Stale call a tourism site, which could be considered kind of sad, depending on how you look at it. I kill the engine in the tiny dirt lot that sits a long stretch of path away from the rock, and Ricky climbs out of the SUV, still staring at the stone. 

"What is this?" Ricky questions. 

"This is Not-Quite-As-Big Rock," I answer. "Well, that's not the official name, but that's what everyone calls it."

Ricky furrows his brows in puzzlement as he comes around the front of the car to where I am. "Why Not-Quite-As-Big?"

"Because Big Rock is in Alberta, and that's a very big rock. This one is...not quite as big."

"How did it get here?"

"Don't know. The sign probably used to say, but it's been coloured over by markers, and now you can't read it."

Ricky steps up to the slanted sign that should have a description of the monument. He nods when he sees what I'm talking about then spins around to me. 

"Yeah, that's unreadable," he confirms. 

I step past him, starting up the path toward the rock, and Ricky catches up behind me. 

"So how often do you come here?" Ricky wonders. 

"Oh, all the time. It's a great date spot."

He looks at me like I must be insane.

"I'm joking."

"Okay, good," Ricky responds. "I was worried that the people in Stale were just really that boring."

"I mean, the people are boring. Our closest tourist spot is a rock. This was where my mom used to take my brother and I when we were little on the weekends. But back then you used to be able to climb this."

"You can't anymore?"

"Well, now there's a fence around it."

Ricky sees what I'm talking about, the tiny wooden guard only as high as our knees. It's obviously not really trying to keep anyone out. It's more of a deterrent and a simple message saying that you're not supposed to go past it. Ricky's eyes float from the fence up to the top of the rock as we come to a stop in front of it. 

"Am I just seeing it weird, or does it look pink to you too?" he asks. 

"No, I see it too." 

Although grey from a distance, stripes of pastel pink streak through the layers of sediment, a distinguishing feature that I've always wondered about. Unfortunately, I can't read the sign to find out anything about it, so it will just be mysteriously pink to me until they replace that. 

"Hmm," Ricky responds. "So you and your brother just climbed this?"

"Yup. Thinking back, my mom probably shouldn't have let us do that."

Ricky scans the towering stone and agrees, "Yeah."

"We used to have picnics and play tag out here too, 'cause there's a lot of open land for running around."

Surrounding the stone is basically a huge span of emptiness, which made tag ideal here, because you could run until you reached a clump of forestry or a road. 

"I haven't played tag in years," Ricky says. "I don't have siblings, so I only played with friends in elementary school. I was pretty good, though. I was hardly ever it."

"Well, I don't think I was ever it," I reply. "I used to be a fast runner. I won all my jr. high track competitions, and I fully credit that to playing so much tag as a kid."

As grin surfaces on Ricky's face as he steps up a bit closer to me. 

"You've never been it?" he restates. I see where this is going, but I still don't have the time to react before he taps my arm and says, "There's a first for everything."

He stands with that proud grin for a second before I accept the game and reach out, at which point he bolts away. I chase after the laughing boy, but he was right. He is fast. The only reason I'm able to catch up with him is because he slows down whenever he looks back at me, which is frequently. But by the time I get close, he's reached a patch of trees in the land, and he ducks behind one. It feels like we're children, peaking around the trunk, him winding past me, just barely avoiding my hand when I reach for him. When he sneaks behind another spruce, we're both chuckling through tired breaths, our eyes linked like predator and prey, both contemplating our next move. 

"You can't run forever," I say.

"Actually, that's kind of the point of the game," he replies.

His bright, white teeth show as he smiles, and his hair is messy from being pulled by the needles of the tree branches around. I always thought having hair pushed out of place was supposed to make people less appealing, but his case is different. I actually think he looks better like this. There's something kind of cute about it. 

When he takes a step out from behind his cover, I nearly get him, but he jumps out of the way. I try again, and he leaps left, giggling at my failure. Finally, I manage to get him, snatching the boy around the waist from behind. We're both laughing as he spins around, and I'm about to let go, but the second our eyes meet, something stops me, and I stay like that, holding him, and he doesn't retreat. Our laughter snuffs out, turning into something less like rambunctious flames and more like coals, and the glowing orange tension takes over. What is this? I've never felt like this before. It's so uncomfortable in a comfortable way, if that makes sense. And my chest feels weak, like bubbles are dancing through it. 

Soon, I figure out how to work my limbs again and let him go, stepping back. He breaks the silence with a forced laugh.

"You were right," he says. "You are fast. But if I had my skateboard, you'd never catch me."

I feel my breathing easing back into normalcy, and I smile, trying to forget about whatever weird trick Father Time just played to make everything stop like that. That's never happened with any of my other friends before, or anyone before. Maybe it had to do with the fact that I was tired from running. But to be honest, I didn't exactly mind it. 

"Then I might just have to keep your skateboard so that you can't beat me," I reply.

"What if I need it?" he counters.

"You won't."

"What about when I need to get around places?" 

"If you need to go anywhere, I'll drive you."

It's a nice offer. My parents always told me to be nice and generous. This is just generosity. And I do like being around him, because we're friends. This is friendly. I don't know why I have to assure myself of that, because it's the truth. 

Ricky takes a second to think about my offer before replying, "Sounds like a deal."

A/N: Hello. I wanted to do a double update for this one, so here you go. I think I'll be working on Down next. Not entirely sure, but we'll see. Love you all! Bye!