i am enjoying this story, and i promise i'll work on Green soon ok
The day of the funeral, it rains. As if Ally needs more of a reason to want to go home and lay in bed forever. Normally she loves the rain, thought it was beautiful. Today it just seems gloomy, it reminds her of all the tears shed these past couple days. All she could see in the rain today was the negatives. Although she felt that maybe this was appropriate weather, she would've been a little frustrated if she was grieving over her mother and the sun was shining, bright as can be. Call her selfish, but she was satisfied knowing that this rain had ruined someone -somewhere in the world's- plans. Her mother had just died, she let herself be a little selfish at the moment.
She was staring out the window of the church, trying to focus on the raindrops and not the bullshit coming out of the lady at the front of the room's mouth. That lady was named Candace, and she was friends with her mom for 8 months and had the nerve to get up there and talk about her as if they were family, claiming they were best friends. That Candace knew her better than anyone.
Absolute bullshit.
Ally knows that listening to a word of the constant lies spewing from Candace's mouth would cause her blood to boil, her grief counselor told her that she might suffer from a few mood swings for the next few weeks. One of the more frequent emotions she felt lately was anger. Angry at what? Ally wasn't sure, but she was pissed 75% of the time.
"Ally," Trish nudges her. Ally sighs, turning away from the window.
"What?"
"They want you to say a few words," Trish tells her in a hushed tone. Candace is heading back to her seat and everyone has turned their tear stricken faces to her. This is strange considering her father is supposed to give a speech, not Ally.
"But my dad-" Ally doesn't even get to finish her sentence because Trish subtly jerks her head in the direction of her father. Ally turns to look at him, he's sobbing quietly, bent over in his chair with his face pressed in his knees. He's in no condition to give a speech.
"O-okay," Ally nods. She stands to smooth out her black dress and starts for the podium. She avoids her mother's cold, lifeless body in the casket and tries to find someone she trusts in the audience.
Upon finding out Ally had stage fright, a teacher had once advised her to find one trustworthy person in the audience and act like they were having a normal conversation. Her go-to person would've been her father, but he wasn't exactly a symbol of strength at the moment and doubled over the way he was all she could see of him was his retching body as his muffled sobs filled the quiet room. She surveys everyone before her, most of them had trails of tears running down their face. And then there was her. She probably looks so heartless, standing strong and seemingly unaffected at her own mother's funeral. But she doesn't cry in front of people, because crying would mean you were weak. And Ally would never allow herself to appear weak, even if her insides were caving in and she was coming apart at the seams. Crying was for private time.
She finds Trish's sad eyes and lets out a sigh.
"Um, my mother was..." Ally trails off, "an amazing person. I think everyone here can agree with that.
"She's actually the reason I have one of the most important people in my life," she gives Trish a small smile that she hopes passes for 'poor grieving daughter'.
"She always gave the best advice, always knew the right thing to say," Ally tries to speak with passion. Like she actually means what she's saying, it feels and sounds like she's reading from a script.
"You know, I bet half of the people in this room couldn't even tell me what her favorite book even was," Ally scoffs. Several eyes in the audience widen, it seems that they know where this is going.
"So many of you didn't even /know/ her, the real Penny Dawson," she continues.
"You all see her as a friend, a neighbor, a coworker. But she was my mom, the person in the world who knew me best. And Candace?" she looks for the familiar woman among the horrified sea of faces.
"You say you were my mom's best friend? I wish she had known what a bitch you always were to me," Ally spits. Several people gasps, and even her father is staring at her with bloodshot eyes, wiping a trail of snot from his nose.
"And I swear to God if one more person comes up to me, hugs me, and says 'its going to be okay' I'm going to commit a felony. How can you look me in the eye and promise that it will be okay?
"In case you're too stupid to realize, it's never going to be okay," Ally chokes back a sob. She won't cry here, she won't.
"May Penny Dawson rest in peace, I love you so much, mom," Ally swallowa hard, wishing that lump in her throat would go away. She storms down between the two rows of pews and shoves the heavy doors open, plowing into the heavy rain.
She doesn't know where to go, but she runs through the courtyard and down the trail to the main road. Her dress is soaked and her hair sticks to her face and neck like a sopping wet curtain, but she won't stop running.
The first place she sees that she could take refugee is a small coffee shop. She bursts through the doors, a little bell jingles, disturbing the silence. The place was empty of customers other than a girl reading a book in the corner and a teenage boy near the front on his laptop. Neither of them glance up, but the boy behind the counter is staring wide eyed at the strange girl standing before him in a soaking wet black dress.
"Tell me you have a bathroom," Ally says. The boy moves from his post behind the counter to cautiously approach her.
"It's this way, I'll show you," he gestures for her to follow him and they walk to the back of the store, where he pushes open a door, which reveals stairs descending down into a poorly lit basement. Ally takes a step back and eyes him suspiciously.
"Look, weird girl who appeared suddenly out of the rain, if you think I'm going to kill you, you're insane," he sighs, she rolls her eyes and follows him down the stairs. He swings a set of keys around his finger as he leads the way, "I would never risk going back to prison."
She stops immediately, "what?" And suddenly the exit seems too far away.
"That was a joke, relax," he laughs. She grumbles some un-ladylike phrases under her breath but follows him further down the corridor. They stop at a dirty door, which she assumes was once white.
"Do you think you'd be able to find your way back up if I went back to the counter?" he asks.
Ally sighs quietly, she hadn't been paying attention to where they were going and god only knows what kind of trouble she'd get herself into if she got lost down here. She musters up her most pitiful look and turns to him, "would you mind staying right here?"
"Course not," he shrugs, leaning casually against a large box. The dim lighting makes his blonde hair appear to be a dirty dishwater color, and his hazel eyes are teasing and playful. She swears she can see a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. He was actually quite attractive, and she could only imagine she must look like she's been to hell and back.
"Okay, I'd hate to ask more of you... but do you have a towel I could try and dry myself with?" Ally suddenly feels cold and vulnerable in this rained on dress with it's stupid fancy corset.
"I got you, don't worry," he gives her a nod and disappears into a small room nearby. She takes a moment to look around the basement. Covered in boxes marked with different flavors of coffee and tea. He appears again with a pink, blue, and gray towel.
"Here," he grins. She takes the towel and slips into the bathroom. The light in here doesn't work much better than the light in the hall, but she can clearly see that the towel isn't just a towel. Yes, the stack of fabric includs a pink towel, but also gray sweatpants and a blue hoodie that says "Moon" across the back. She doesn't question it too much, mostly because she swears the temperature is dropping by the second.
She slips the dress off and towel dries herself. Then she kicks off her boots, and thankfully her socks are dry enough to wear. Then pulls the sweatpants and hoodie on in it's place. They felt warm and soft against her cold, damp skin.
Ally gathers her wet dress and holds it at arms length. When she opens the door, the boy is grinning ear to ear.
"I'll take that, we can dry it for you," he says, draping the dress over one arm, "I'm Austin by the way. Austin Moon."
Aha, Moon.
"So this is your hoodie?" she asks, following him back the way they came in her sock feet.
"Sure is, although it looks better on you," he winks. She scoffs.
"Thanks for letting me borrow it while my dress dries," Ally nods, "I'm Ally Dawson."
"You wouldn't happen to be related to that woman in the obituary this week? What was her name... Pam?"
"Penny."
"Yeah, her."
"She was my mom."
"Oh," Austin says, "I'm sorry."
"Nothing you should apologize for," she shrugs.
"Yeah well..." he trails off, now the only silence are her light footsteps and his heavier ones on the concrete. They come to a washer and drier and he tosses her dress in and presses some buttons.
"So I assume by the dress you were coming from the funeral?" Austin's voice isn't playful anymore, it's more hesitant.
"Yeah but it's a long story," Ally shakes her head. Really she's not ready to talk about what just happened, especially not to this strange boy she just met.
"That's okay, I understand," he nods. They headed back up the stairs and he returns to the counter while she sits at a table in the back. Nothing has changed, the two customers are still exactly where they left them.
After a while Austin abandons the counter again and brings over a steaming cup of something and a muffin. He sets them down in front of her but she just sighs.
"I don't have any money," she tells him. She left her purse on her seat beside Trish.
"It's on the house," he gives her a smile, which she doesn't return. She doesn't exactly feel like smiling.
"Wanna sit?" she asks. It's not that she wants to talk to him, but she doesn't want to feel alone. He shrugs and scoots into the both across from her. She's still trying to figure it why he's done so many unnecessary favors for her, but she's grateful.
"So that weather..." Austin chuckles dryly.
"Don't try and make conversation," Ally shakes her head.
"Got it," he nods. So they just sit and stare at each-other while she takes quiet sips of the hot chocolate he brought her.
She looks at him, /really/ looks at him. His eyes, with their little flecks of gold. His lips, which could use a little chapstick to be completely honest, but it's winter so she'll cut him some slack. His nose, with a little faded freckle near his left eye. He's attractive, if she weren't so upset right now she'd probably feel self conscious.
And he looks at her. She's strange, to say the least. And he can't seem to charm her, which is even stranger. He blames it on the fact that she's recently had to say goodbye to her mom. Her hair is nice, brown near the top and caramel colored towards the ends. There's probably some fancy name for it, his mom would know.
Her eyes are red, like she's been crying recently. He looks at her lips, which she's chewing on profusely. He notices she does this when she seems on edge. Austin remembers how when he opened the door to the basement and she backed away, her lips made a tiny 'o'. She's cute.
"So, um..." she clears her throat and he's really hoping she doesn't start crying. That's the last thing he needs. Austin Moon does not do crying girls.
"What do you do for fun?" he asks.
She doesn't even have to think about it, "music," she says immediately. "I like music."
"Me too," he grins. But she still doesn't smile back. She hasn't smiled since she's been here. He once again blames it on the funeral.
She nods awkwardly.
"Wanna play a game?" he taps his fingers on the table.
"Not really."
"C'mon! 21 Questions?"
She sighs, "fine."
"Awesome," he claps his hands together once and says, "I'll go first-"
"You got to pick the game," she protests, crossing her arms.
"Fair enough, you go first."
"Why aren't there many customers here?"
"Because there's a Starbucks two blocks from here," he replies with a chuckle. The corners of her lips tilt upwards, it's not really a smile, but it's a start.
"My turn," he sighs. "What's your favorite food?"
"Pickles," she replies.
"Pickles? Gross," he shakes his head, outwardly expressing his disapproval.
"I happen to love them," she rolls her eyes. "What's yours?"
"Pancakes are where it's at," he replies proudly.
"Waffles are way better," she says, bringing her drink to her lips.
"Can I have a sip of that?" He asks.
She shrugs, "I guess."
He grabs a straw and drops it in, taking a big slurp of the lukewarm chocolate. He turns away from her and spits it out dramatically, "WAFFLES? PANCAKES RULE THE BREAKFAST WORLD!" He exclaims, then he turns back to her. She's got her elbows on the table and her head in her hands and she's laughing. He made her laugh, so he laughs too.
The two customers turn to look at them, sitting in the booth at the very back of the shop laughing quite loudly.
"My turn," he says, catching his breath. "Okay, how could you possibly like waffles more than pancakes?"
"They have the convenient little pockets that hold your syrup, which makes breakfast simpler."
"But pancakes are soft and so easy to make and they're Jesus reincarnated into food, I'm telling you," he tells her.
"I don't think so," she shakes her head.
"I believe it's my question, so do you have any siblings?" He asks, wiping some hot chocolate from under his mouth.
"Nope, only child. Do you have any siblings?"
"I'm the only offspring of Mike and Mimi Moon," he replies. "How awesome is Christmas?"
"It's okay, but I think it's a little too much sometimes," she shrugs.
"You're crazy, Christmas is great every year," he shakes his head.
"Really? Well then my next question is going to have to be what's your favorite holiday tradition?"
"Decorating the tree," he grins. "When I was little, we never bought ornaments. My mom invited all the kids she knew over to our house and we made them," he recalls, "they weren't very pretty, but they were original."
"That's adorable," she says. Her family never really got into the Christmas spirt. They put up a tree, tossed some ornaments on, and called it a day. Never anything monumental.
"So what are you doing for Christmas?" he asks finally.
"I dunno, my family is probably still going to be all torn up over my mom, so we might just say fuck it and not even celebrate," Ally shrugs.
"That really sucks, I'm sorry-"
"Sorry for my loss, yeah I know. That's all anyone ever says to me. And the pity is endless. I'm pretty sure I have enough sympathy casserole in my kitchen to end world hunger," she says bitterly.
"Why do people think casserole will solve everyone's problems?" he says, half jokingly.
"Let me know if you figure that out," she sighs. "So what are you doing for Christmas?"
"Working, unfortunately," he tells her.
"What? Why?"
"Well someone has to do it," he explains, "and they determine who by seniority. I've worked here the shortest amount of time, therefore I work Christmas this year."
"Why don't they just close up? I mean, no offense, but this doesn't exactly seem like a social hotspot," she glances around. One customer left sometime, and the guy remained at his table.
"Because my boss doesn't have a family, no friends," Austin shrugs, "I guess he figures if his Christmas is going to suck he might as well ruin someone else's too."
"Scrooge," she coughs under her breath.
"You can say that again," he mumbles. "I believe it's my question. What's your biggest dream?"
She takes a minute to think, "I guess I'd like to be a songwriter, I mean I'm not too bad and if I ever get over my stage fright I could preform them."
"You write songs?" he asks excitedly.
"Yeah," she nods.
"You wouldn't happen to have any with you?" he's getting more excited by the second.
"Sorry," she shakes her head, "maybe another day."
"Alright, your question," he says.
"So what's your favorite thing to do?"
"I like to sing, play music," he answers, "the thing is I don't have any original music."
"So that's why you wanted to see my songs?" she asks.
"Well yeah, or maybe you could give me some songwriting tips?" he suggests.
"Write from your heart, and it doesn't always have to rhyme," she says.
"Good advice. So why did you stumble in here soaking wet? I mean I guess you wouldn't normally walk through the pouring rain for a cup of overpriced coffee, especially after a funeral."
"Um... I didn't want to see my mom lowered into the ground," she lies. It's at least kind of true, thinking about her mother buried under the cold ground forever made her uneasy.
"Understandable, your question."
"So what was your first kiss like?"
"Awkward. Neither of us had a clue what to do," he answers with a shudder. "How about you?"
"Innocent, just a little peck," she replies. "Why have you done so many nice things for me?"
"Because," he sighs, "I just felt like it was the right thing to do. Just being a good person."
"Oh," she sighs. He's getting more attractive with every word that comes out of his mouth.
"What was your mom like?"
"Austin, I just met you, no offense but I think that's a little personal," she points out.
"Oh right, sorry," he let's out a dry chuckle.
"It's okay. What's your favorite thing about yourself?"
"Well," he pauses, "I guess I'm a decent performer. I'd like to think I have a nice stage presence."
"I'd love to see you perform sometime," she smiles.
"That'd be awesome," he returns the smile. "What's your least favorite thing about yourself?"
"Uh," she clears her throat, "I tend to come across guarded, maybe even rude."
"Guarded, yes. Rude, no. I'd peg you as shy,"
"Interesting. Whose question?" she drinks the rest of the cocoa and sets the cup down.
"Yours."
"Hmm... what's your goal?" You know, in life?"
"To just be happy. That's all I want."
Wow he's hot.
"I'd have to agree with you on that, Mr. Moon. Happiness is important."
"Indeed. My question?"
"Yep."
"What's your favorite childhood memory?" he leans back against the booth.
"It'd have to be... hm," she let her eyes wander around the room, "before my parents got divorced, we used to go to this cabin every winter. It was drafty and leaky, and my mom was always asking when we could leave. But because it was so drafty we'd have to snuggle around our little portable heater. I used to love it."
"You don't go anymore?"
"After my parents separated we just stopped. I haven't been back there since," she explains.
"That sounds amazing," he says in awe.
"That's one of the few memories I have of us as a happy family, together," she sighs.
"Well... um, your question."
"What makes you most uncomfortable?"
"Probably being laughed at," he replies, "especially if I don't know why people are laughing."
"I can definitely relate," she agrees, "then I just wonder what's wrong with me. If it's something I've done or something I'm wearing. It's just stressful."
"Exactly! My question?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, hm... best day of your life?"
"Easy. When my mom took me and my best friend shopping and then for ice cream," she says.
"Your turn," he watches as the last customer gets annoyed by their conversation and gets up to leave.
"Uh, what's your middle name?"
"Haha... let's skip that," he, laughs nervously.
"What why? Is it something weird?" she gives him a look.
"Nevermind that," he shakes his head. "So what's your best friend's name?"
"Her name is Trish. What's your best friend like?"
"He's a little wacky," Austin says.
"His name...?"
"Dez."
"That's an interesting name."
"Trust me, it fits him perfectly," Austin promises. "So how'd you meet Trish?"
"Well in third grade she called me ugly, and my mom basically told me to kill her with kindness. She never talked to me again but I was always nice to her, one day in fifth grade she came up to me and apologized. We got to know each other and I found out her parents were getting divorced and she just needed a friend to lean on," Ally tells him, "she's been my other half ever since."
"That makes my story look lame. I met Dez at an arcade," Austin laughs.
"That's cool too. My question, right?"
"Yes."
"If you could go anywhere, where would it be and would you come home?" she asks.
"Ah, a fresh new twist on a classic question," he nods his approval, "I'd go to Mexico, and yes I would come home."
"I was expecting you to say something typical. Like Paris or Hawaii. Heck, maybe even London," she admits.
"Yeah, well I'm not a typical guy," he jokes. "My next question is where is the place you're happiest?"
"That's a tough one actually," she crosses her arms, "somewhere quiet. When I imagine my happy place, it's near water. But not a beach, something calm. A cool lake, maybe a waterfall. And there's music, I don't know where it's coming from... but it's there."
"Wow, that sounds like an amazing place, can I change my "where would you go" answer to that?"
"Haha funny," she rolls her eyes. "My question is... what three things can't you live without?"
"Music, food, and family," he replies quickly, "didn't even have to think about that one."
"Wow," she mumbles.
"So what's your favorite movie?"
"Have you ever seen Tangled?"she suddenly gets excited.
"Um... I don't think I have," he shrugs.
"It's adorable," she says. "What was your favorite grade in school?"
"Probably 6th, because that's when my teacher was super hot," he says half jokingly.
"You're an idiot," she rolls her eyes again. A beep comes from the drier below.
"Let's go get your dress," he stands up. On the way down the stairs he asks his next question, "Favorite music artist?"
"I adore One Republic and All Time Low, but you know Adrian Hood is cool."
"I'm a huge One Republic fan, we have more in common than I thought," he chuckles. They hit the concrete and start down the corridor towards the washer and drier.
"My next question is when did you stop believing in Santa?" she catches up to him and realizes she actually has to look up to him, "you're tall."
"You're tiny," he gives her a charming smile and then focuses back on the dim basement. "And maybe I still believe in Santa."
"Oh God you're a man child," she mutters.
"I heard that, Miss Ally Dawson."
"Good."
"This is my 17th question I believe, best prank you've ever pulled?"
"Do I really seem like much of a prank person?"
"Well... no."
"Okay then."
"Come on," he scoffs, "you've never even pulled one tiny prank?"
"I switched around the letters on my dad's keyboard once," she shrugged, "needless to day he was confused."
"That's the spirit!"
"This is my 18th question right?" she asks as he leans down to get the dress from the washer.
"I believe so," he nods.
"Do you play any instruments?" she watches him grab her dress and close the drier. He stands back up and once again towers over her.
"Pretty much everything," he shrugs, "guitar and piano mainly. But hand me some drumsticks and I'm set. I can even play a trumpet through another trumpet!"
"Now that's something I'd like to see," she mumbles, "my dad owns a music store."
"What's it called? There's this one in the mall I go to sometimes."
"Sonic Boom," she answers as they start back upstairs.
"Wait... you're the cute girl who works at the music store?"
"I gue-"
"How did I not see this before? I knew you looked familiar!"
"Your question," she reminds him.
"Hmm... best present you've ever received?"
"My mom bought me concert tickets to see The Beatles once," she answers, "I may have cried a little."
"You're a Beatles fan huh?"
"Yep," she nods.
"Fascinating. Your question."
"Are you a spender or a saver? Like with money."
"Spender for life, I can't save a dime," he replies proudly.
"Why am I not surprised?"
"Alright my question. What's your zodiac sign?"
"Pisces."
"Mhm... your turn."
"What made you wanna ?"
"Eh," he shrugs as they reach the door, "it's close to home and it gives me an excuse not to work at my parents' "mattress kingdom" and both of those are good enough reasons for me."
"Your parents own Moon's Mattress Kingdom don't they?" she smiles.
"Sadly," he sighs.
"I should get going," she starts for the door.
"You got to ask your 20th question, I only got 19," he protests.
"Alright, one more," she stops half way in the middle of opening the doors.
He reaches into a basket beside the door, "wish I could drive you home but my shift isn't over. All I can give you is this," he hands her an umbrella. The rain seems to be letting up anyways.
"Thanks. But what's your 20th question?"
"Do you believe in love?" he asks.
"Eh," she shrugs and gives a small smile. Then she opens up the umbrella and disappears in the rain.
"But my 21st question..." he mumbles, though it's useless.
"Always leave them wanting more," her mom had said. And she did. She left Austin standing in the doorway wondering when he would get to see Ally Dawson again.
so austin and ally have met... this is where things get fun