Cliché

chapter 23. i hope we'll see each other one day

In most coming-of-age stories, there's a place. The place. For silent solitude or an amorous rendezvous, on the hilltop above a meadow of wind and wildflowers or before the reflection of the sky in a lake, washed by a kiss of sunlight or rivers of silver moon, with shrieks of laughter or the echo of kisses, it matters not— all it needs to be considered as a place is the touch of Nostalgia's hands.

Standing before Rio's Diner, only a few steps away from La Stella, I glimpse at Evan's starry eyes and sad smile. He wears his heart on his sleeve— and since I'm wearing his leather jacket, I know. This is his place.

I don't prod. Instead, I follow him in through the glass doors, under the flashing neon sign, through the black-and-white checkered floor and red stools at the bar until he slides into a booth at the very back. I can still see the sea from through the windows.

A waitress in a baby pink uniform, who can't be much older than us, skates up to our table. "Evan! How are you, dear? Where's Brie and Brandon?"

Evan grins. "I'm doing fine, Kate. Brielle's coming soon, so we'll just have our usual drinks."

"So that'll be Brandon's drink for this beautiful girl over here?"

A flush rises over my cheeks at the compliment as Evan presses his lips together and shoots me a dead, hopefully teasing, look. "Yes. Thanks, Kate."

"Alright, so that'll be one root beer float for Evan, and two milkshakes, one chocolate and strawberry for Brie. Coming right up!"

As she skates away, I find myself scrunching my nose. "Root beer float? That's disgusting. Brandon, on the other hand, has taste."

Evan scoffs. "The only thing he has a taste for is being a pain in the ass."

I shake my head, a knowing smile playing on my lips. "Admit it, Grayston. You miss him."

A flash of regret passes through Evan's eyes— brief, yet unmissable. I open my mouth, about to apologize for bringing it up, but he quickly recovers and puts on a cocky smirk. "I don't miss his pretty boy face, but he was the best partner for pranks. I remember breaking into the school with him at 2AM and saran-wrapping all the open arch entrances. Definitely top ten for best school pranks."

Our laughs mix in with the jazzy tunes of the diner's jukebox as Kate rolls up with a tray of our orders. As I play with the straw of my chocolate milkshake, I start to wonder how amusing it would've been if I had become friends with them earlier on, if I wasn't the token new girl, if this whole storyline mess hadn't happened. If we were real.

Real. The idea makes me uneasy, the fact that someone from the real world is still inside our story, either knowingly or unknowingly leading to our disappearances. Cliche's ruination.

"Brielle!"

Evan's enthusiastic yelp snaps me out of my unwanted thoughts. His stars in his eyes become a flash brighter, the corner of his lips turning upward at the sight of her. I roll my eyes, pushing aside my anxiety and feigning (or, more like, exaggerating my) annoyance.

"You're lovesick," I mutter, taking my first sip of my milkshake. The heavy sweetness, almost heavenly, surprises me— no wonder they chose Rio's Diner to be their place.

Brielle, wearing a velvet ivory dress, slides into the booth next to Evan, her smile, with a kiss of tinted lip gloss, widening at the strawberry milkshake in front of her. "My favorite!"

"Strawberry? Brandon's taste is superior," I joke.

"Stop lying to yourself, Iris. Strawberry will always be better," Brie states formally, ending it on a serious note when she sticks her tongue out at me. But then, her eyes linger on me in slight surprise. "Is that Evan's jacket?"