Drive
She was promised a dance tonight.
Dressed up beautifully in her short, purple dress, the color complimenting her fair features, she waited impatiently for her friends to return.
"I'll be right back," Trixie had said, before running off to the bathroom, Tad and Chad following without a word. She was suspicious, of course, and would probably have gone with her, but she was a bit too trusting of her best friend.
That was seventy-three minutes ago, and they still hadn't come back.
It was prom, junior year, and this was supposed to be one of the best nights of her teenage life. Between dances and mingling, the beautiful blonde had been too blind to even consider that they would do this to her. It wasn't the first time, sure, but she forgave. She forgave because she wanted friends, she wanted to be popular. It was her identity, and without it, her life would have no purpose.
Anything could have happened. While she did go into the bathroom after the first half-hour, only to find Trixie not inside, she thought that maybe they got sick, like food poisoning. Yeah, food poisoning. That had to be it.
The teen lifted her head as she sat in the corner, putting on a plastic smile. If Trixie were here, maybe somebody would have asked her to dance. Without Trixie, she was looked at as a spazzy freak; the sidekick of the popular girl. Her beautiful blue eyes welled up with tears that she desperately tried to restrain as realization hit her.
They ditched her. Again.
She stood abruptly, running out of the building as she let the drops fall from her eyes. Her sobs were quiet, repressed. Surprisingly, she didn't want attention drawn to herself during this little breakdown of hers.
Footing brisk and set, the young girl wandered away from the school without any means of transportation. The closest building of interest to her was a little Starbucks, where she would go inside and let a nice frappuccino take her sorrows away.
Dressed up, immaculate, she pushed open the front door when she finally reached it. The few inside offered brief glances, some looking a bit confused over her attire and slightly smeared makeup. With a small sigh, she walked up to the front counter with her order in mind.
"Caramel frappuccino, please," she said, her voice a little dry.
"M-hmm," the twenty-something woman replied. "That'll be $3.89."
Money was no object to her, as she handed her a credit card and waited for it to be ready. Right now, she just needed a quieter atmosphere. This was perfect, with a slow, modern blues number playing over the little shop. It was a perfect time to get away and relax from the current stress in her life.
When the drink was ready, her heels clicked over to a small table and she sat. While it was a relief to get away from the dance, a nagging voice in the back of her mind beckoned her to take out her cell phone. Before she could think, the teen soon found herself digging for her little phone in her designer bag.
Trixie's number was on speed dial, making her job a lot easier. The line rung once, before going to voice mail. She then called Tad, which went straight to voicemail. She finally called Chad, which seemed to hang up after two rings. She called Trixie again, and again, and again, and again…
"They aren't going to answer, you know."
Her shoulders jerked, startled, before she shut her phone to look at the person who had said that blunt little remark. "Excuse me?" her voice was a little harsh.
He was a teen, about her age, wearing an expensive-looking white jacket with black jeans and shoes. His hood was up, hiding his face. "I said that they won't return your call. Your efforts are meaningless." His posture never changed, nor the tone of his voice. Cold, blunt, and dark.
"Who do you think you are?" she said angrily. "You don't even know me."
"I didn't raise my voice, so there is no reason why you should be," he replied coolly.
She bit her lip, frustrated at this boy. "Well, then why are you starting crap?"
From under the hood, she saw a small smirk. "So you don't give your hopes up. When somebody leaves, or doesn't show up at all, that means they want nothing to do with you."
Before she could answer, he got up and walked to the door, throwing whatever he had drunk out in the trash can. She stood, following him out and throwing out her frappuccino—a wasted purchase, as the completely full cup leaked out its contents.
"Hey, hey!" She yelled after him. "Wait!"
The boy stopped, turning to face her. He was her height, possibly a centimeter or two shorter. "What do you want?" he asked in a clipped tone.
"Why did you even care about what I was doing?" she fumed, her arms crossed. "Are you trying to make fun of me?"
He sighed, "No, I'm not. I just tell it like it is."
"You just tell it like it is, huh? Well, well, what if you hurt somebody's feelings? What then?"
"That means that they're being too sensitive—also known as a pussy," he retorted. "Why, did I hurt yours?"
Her face flushed slightly, "No."
"I did," he concluded. "My apologies then, ma'am." He turned again, walking towards what appeared to be his car.
"Stop!" she blurted.
The teen sagged his shoulders, before turning his skinny frame around to face her, "What now?"
"I… I don't, um…"
He sighed in annoyance, "Spit it out."
"Can I ride with you?" she asked.
He rubbed the back of his clothed head, "Why? I thought I hurt your feelings."
"Well… my ride left. Plus, I like Prius's." She eyed his car closely.
The smirk returned, "What if I said no?"
"Then that would be the meanest of the mean," she replied, smirking back.
"I guess I'm not going to get rid of you until I say yes, huh?" he said, half-playfully.
"Nope," she answered smartly.
Trixie had been her only source for a ride that night, and now that she was gone, there was no way to get home. Her mom and dad went on a vacation to Maui three days ago, so for the next two days she would be without them, they themselves figuring a sixteen-year-old could manage for a few days. Yes, she had been lectured many times about not riding with strangers, especially those hooded. Honestly, she didn't care at the moment. She just needed to get home, away from all of this drama. Not only that, but there was that little voice in the back of her mind that said that this boy was safe. That was enough for her.
A sound startled her, causing her to look up and find that he had opened the car door. "Are you coming or not?"
"Um, yeah!" she replied, scuttling over to his little car.
Sitting comfortably in the passenger's seat, she looked towards him as he revved the engine and drove out. "Where to?" he asked.
The blonde took a moment to remember her address and cleared her throat softly. "1055 Perennial Lane. Do you know where that is?"
"Yes," he said. "It's a shortcut to my school."
"Where do you go to school?" she asked in interest.
"Springboro Academy," was his reply.
She gasped, "Wow, your parents gotta be really rich to send you there."
"Yeah, they must be," he muttered dryly.
Finding himself stopped at a red light, the teen took a minute to take down his hood and undo the black zipper on his jacket a little bit, before clicking on his radio. She immediately recognized the band as Incubus, the song Drive playing.
Even more interesting than the song, was the boy himself. His light blond hair was straight and long; neat and well-groomed, but at the same time she noted the strands that fell in his face, the ends touching the line of his jaw. The eyes, a dull and bloodshot green, were surprisingly deep to her as she trailed down to the dark circles underneath those eyes. His lips were pale, nearly matching his even paler skin. His stubby little fingers tapped the wheel, while noticeably short legs squirmed as he waited for the light to change. He was as impatient as her, evidently, as she rubbed her delicate hands together and waited.
The light changed, and the young man set his foot on the gas. Her house was about a mile away now, the time gliding to eleven at night. She seemed to be concentrated on the road ahead of her, her features showing signs of sadness. He observed how beautiful she was, her stunning blue eyes and lovely features made her nothing short of a broken star. All dressed up and looking great, he suspected she went to prom and her friends must have ditched her. He himself went to a highly regarded, highly praised, get-into-the-best-colleges-guaranteed high school. Perhaps simplicity was underrated, he thought.
His eyes set back on the road, the girl next to him stealing a glance again. She couldn't stop with his eyes. As cliché as it seemed, there was a hunger, a passion, a need, a want. Those eyes were put through hell and back, have seen more than she could have ever dreamed of, and he probably was just as messed up as she was. No, he didn't seem dangerous or heartless, not at all. Perhaps in his younger years he was a hellion, but the flames in his eyes seemed to be cooling. She was great at reading people, something they seemed to have in common.
It took her a few moments to realize that the car had stopped, and he was staring back at her with a hiked eyebrow. Realizing the blank expression she was wearing, staring dumbly at his eyes, she shook her head and blushed.
"Thanks for the ride," she said in a half-cheerful, half-shaky voice.
"Pleasure," he replied with a courteous nod.
A hint of confusion returned to his mind as she neglected to unbuckle her seatbelt, or get out of the car. He stared curiously as she opened her purse and fiddled around in it for a few moments. Her features were concentrated and determined; whatever she was doing meant something to her. A light scratching sound soon became audible, but he wasn't quite sure where it was coming from.
A small rip soon followed the scratching, and she closed her purse to reveal and pink piece of paper.
"This, is for when you need to give me a drive when my 'friends' ditch me again." She took his hand in hers, putting the paper in and curling his fingers around it.
At this point, he was in a state of shock. This beautiful, appealing, girl of his age actually wanted to see him again?
"Oh, and it can also be for any drive; any time, any place, and anywhere."
"I'm… confused," he admitted.
"So am I," she said.
"I don't know what to say. I really don't."
"Don't say anything," she said. "I'm shallow, care about looks, and completely disregard a guy's personality. For some reason that I'm still trying to figure out, I don't see looks with you, I see a real person. It makes me wonder, makes me want to know why. I can, I can just tell we have a lot in common. I want to see a lot more of your personality."
"Okay… but I'm still confused."
"So am I."
"You really want to see me again?"
"Mhmm."
"Really?"
"Yep."
She didn't know why, and she doesn't know how. It could have been fate, or just coincidence. On the surface he didn't appear broken, but she saw through. She saw those eyes, saw that pain, saw that spark of undying life. She had been a pushover, a social climber, and just a plain bitch for most of her life. She felt different now, she felt better. It might have just been a simple drive, and it might seem too good to be true, but whether or not it was would be decided in good time. This was her choice, and her choice right now was giving him her number.
"Oh, and for future reference, my name is Veronica," she said.
"I'm Remy, and I still don't understand."
"I like you."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"…"
"…"
"Veronica?"
"Remy?"
"Why do you bother telling me all of this when you know in your heart you could have reached for somebody that you and I both know is a much better choice than me?"
"I don't know… I don't know."
And that was enough.
-FIN-