Putting this here to warm you that everytime there's a page break, the POV switches to either Maren or John.
"You're wearing... that?"
I send a glare at where Mom stands in the entrance of my room, leaning her shoulder into the doorframe with crossed arms and an expression of careful consideration. It's with this look that she regards my appearance; jeans, burgundy knit sweater, and my hair—tied in a ponytail. I didn't even know she was there.
"Why?" I ask. "What's wrong with it?"
I must sound pretty defensive, because she presses her lips together in attempt to stifle a smile. "Nothing." She says. I set her with raised eyebrows, because obviously there's something judging by her words. She relents with a chuckle. "Okay, seriously. You can't dress like that and expect me not to react. I mean, is that even your top?"
She gestures at me and I automatically look down at myself, now questioning every part of my outfit choice. The sweater actually is Marina's, which she left here some time ago and I just forgot to return. And while Marina, undoubtedly, has the best fashion sense out of everyone I know, I'm suddenly struck by some type of fear that was unfamiliar until now. Any confidence I had about the choice (which, admittedly, wasn't much) goes down the drain. Yeah, this wasn't a good idea.
I shake my head, starting to pull off the top. "Yeah, you're right. I should put on something-"
"Maren, stop." I look up to see Mom smiling, which only turns more amused when I huff. There's a laugh in her voice. "Honey, I'm not saying you should change. I was just surprised." She rolls her eyes fondly. "Come on, you're you. Of course you look beautiful."
"Oh." I smooth down the parts of the shirt ruffled from the tugging. "Okay. Well... good."
She grins, probably loving how much I'm struggling. Thankfully, she refrains from teasing me anymore, just pushing herself from the doorway, where she pauses, eyebrows pinching in. "You should take down your hair." She says finally, making a vague gesture at her own. "You know... surprise him."
She leaves before I can respond, and I hurriedly move forward to close the door to prevent anymore surprise witnesses. The door clicks shut just as my phone chimes from the bed. I can tell by the different ring tone that it's a video call and go over to see Marina's contact on the screen. I spare a moment to look on in confusion. As much as we text and call, Marina has never video called me. Nevertheless, I answer, leaving the phone pointed at the ceiling and going to the mirror to decide about my hair as the call connects. In a moment, I hear the successful chime, meaning the call is active.
There's silence for a few moments. Then, "Uh, hello? Maren?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, you're there!" Her voice is relieved. "I've never used this before. I thought I did something wrong."
I furrow my eyebrows at myself in the mirror, trying to picture how my hair would look hanging down by my shoulders. "Uh huh..." I reply absentmindedly. Then I blink as it snaps in. "Wait, you've never video called anyone before?"
"I've used it, but haven't, you know, started one—wait, am I supposed to see you? I think I did do something wrong because all I see is a white screen. You can still hear me right?"
I roll my eyes, amazed that even after being born in this generation Marina still seems to be a decade behind when it comes to technology. Even though she has one of the newest smartphones on the market, I've yet to see her send an abbreviation or emoji, aside from the scattered "lol" and the smiley face that you have to make from the colon and the bracket. She even texts in full sentences, everything spelled correctly, periods and commas and everything. Riley, on the other hand, texts with so many abbreviations and emojis that sometimes her messages are filled with a mass of letters and smiley faces instead of actual words. I'll often get messages from Marina with text from Riley in quotations (yes, actual double quotes in a text message. Who does that?), asking what it means. This, combined with her strange amount of wisdom in subjects she has no right to be that wise about, only strengthens my theory that she's actually just an old person in a teenager's body.
Giving up on the hair for now, I head over to the bed and pick up my phone. Her confused expression immediately brightens when she sees my face on the screen and realizes she hasn't messed anything up. "Thank God. If I had to go get Ella to help I would never live it down."
I grin and sit down on the bed, propping my knees up and resting my wrist there. "I'm still going to tell her about this. Are you eighteen or eighty?" My phone tilts at an angle and I see Marina's camera do the same. She's probably tilting her phone to keep me straight on her screen.
She rolls her eyes. "I'm not eighteen yet."
"Yeah, that's not the point."
There's another noise from my phone. Marina must get the same one because her eyes widen as Riley's contact appears on the screen.
"What's happening?" She asks.
I say nothing and just accept the call. In a moment Riley's face appears too, looking much less confused than Marina was seconds after initiating the call.
"Sup!" She says cheerfully. Marina's eyebrows shoot up like she's just discovering the wonders of technology. "Just wanted to make sure your date preparation was going smoothly."
"There can be more than two people on this thing at one time?" Marina asks.
Riley is unsurprised with her amazement, just nodding in affirmation. "The twenty-first century is a cool place, Mar. Join us sometime."
I nod in agreement while Marina huffs, displeased. "Whatever. Why are you in your van?"
Deciding she's no longer talking to me, I put down the phone once more and head to the mirror again, restarting my dilemma from earlier.
"Oh, yeah. I'm waiting to pick Steph up from work. Her car is in the garage." Riley explains. I cautiously reach back to pull on my hair tie. "Anyway, my question still stands, Maren."
I stop, sending a glance at my phone. "You asked a question?"
"Yes—well, I guess actually no. But it was implied."
After a brief memory search of the last half a minute and coming up with nothing, I shake my head, turning back to the mirror. "You're gonna have to remind me."
There's a sigh. "How's the date preparation going?"
. . .
"It's going fine."
Stanley raises an eyebrow from the doorway. Maybe my tone was a little harsh. "You sure?"
"Yes."
He just shrugs and enters my room, dropping down in my computer chair and giving it an experimental spin. He showed up only moments ago, appearing in my doorway with no warning or real reason for being here other than to annoy me.
Another body appears in the doorway. I sigh tiredly as Joseph enters the room with a cheerful "hello" before taking a seat on the bed. He just looks at me, eyebrows raised expectantly as though he's not the one who just barged in here unannounced. Stanley just keeps spinning in the chair.
I clear my throat. "Um, not that I don't appreciate the company, but..." I gesture around my room that was blissfully quiet before they entered, "why are you here?"
Joseph opens his mouth to answer, but Stanley beats him to it. "Because we don't trust you to get ready by yourself." He hangs his head back to rest on the back of the chair, staring up at the ceiling as he continues spinning.
I ignore him and look to Joseph for a normal answer. "We're just here for moral support." He says with a shrug.
"And to kick your ass if you chicken out."
"Moral support."
All Stanley does is wave a dismissing hand.
I go back to looking through my closet. I'm already dressed, but can't stop the niggling feeling that I should be wearing something a little fancier. Of course I'm not taking Maren anywhere fancy, because, well, she's Maren. Even if I do want to take her somewhere she wouldn't expect, I don't want to take her somewhere where she would be uncomfortable. So I chose a spot that's casual, and I'm also dressing casual. Still, I find myself stuck between worrying about dressing too casual, and worrying about dressing too formal. Which is worse?
"Just to be clear, wearing a tie would be way overboard?"
. . .
"Yes."
I send a glance at my phone screen from where I'm standing at the mirror. Their faces are hard to see because of the distance and the angle of my screen, but imagine they're rolling their eyes.
"So... yes hair up or yes hair down?"
Their voices come at the same time, and with the same exasperated tone. I've asked them clarify at least three times already. "Hair down."
I regard their suggestion, frowning at myself in the mirror as I decide. I note that today's ponytail looks strangely better than normal, but that just might be my mind trying to convince me to keep it that way.
There's silence for a second. Two seconds. Three...
"Okay, but what if-" I ignore a loud groan that definitely came from Riley, "we're going somewhere where it's more convenient to have it up?"
Riley's voice has a rare sarcastic tone. "So he's taking you to the gym then?"
I don't turn my head, but send a tired glance at the phone's reflection in the mirror. After all, she makes complete sense, I'm just having a hard time accepting it.
"Honestly, Maren, it's just hair. You can put it up again if you don't like it." Marina tries. Again, a good point.
"Yeah, and yours somehow manages to look good no matter what you do with it, so you've got that going for you." Riley adds.
Doubtful of her comment, but also feeling like this decision should not be a hard as it is, I finally bite the bullet and loosen the hair tie. It's a quick action, and a slightly painful one as I metaphorically 'rip off the band-aid' a little too hard. Somehow I manage to take out the hair tie with minimal hair loss, looking in the mirror as it falls to the middle of my upper arm. It hasn't been up that long, but I fuss with it for a few seconds to get rid of the 'just taken down' appearance before deciding that's as good as it'll get. I tilt my head, studying the new look. It's not a huge improvement in my opinion.
"You can even take a hair tie with you in case you decide you want to put it up." Riley continues. I remember they can't see me, and probably think I'm just ignoring them. "Like, you're not completely out of options here. And besides, if you're that worried about it, you can even drop into the house. I'm sure I can convince Steph to help you out if I just—oh, you actually took it down!"
Riley grins when I hold up the phone, and Marina looks pleased at my progress, probably glad I overcame whatever was nagging at me not to change it. "See?" She says. "You still look great—"
"Hot!" Riley interjects.
Marina raises her eyebrows in agreement, but otherwise ignores the interruption. "—and now you can relax. Nothing else to worry about."
. . .
"Okay, so there's a lot of stuff you need to worry about." Stanley says, holding up his hands to count off his fingers. I turn from the mirror, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at my spinning friend before me, not confident his dizzy mind will be able to conjure up any worthwhile advice. "You need to worry about what you wear, what you say, what you do, what you order at the restaurant-"
"What? Why would that matter?"
He shrugs. "You never know."
Rolling my eyes, I look at Joseph and find he has the same reaction as me. "Whatever. I'm not even taking her to an actual sit-down restaurant, so it doesn't matter anyway."
Stanley actually stops spinning, planting a foot down and coming to a clean stop, facing me with furrowed eyebrows. "You're not taking her anywhere to eat?" He asks incredulously. "Dude, that's like dating-101."
"Of course we're eating somewhere." I say hurriedly. I pause, feeling much less confident now after his criticism. "Just not, you know, anywhere with waiters."
I'm pretty sure his suspicious narrowed eyes and frown means he thinks it's a bad idea, and even though I do value his advice (he did once have a steady relationship, after all), I decide to stick to my plan right now.
"I think it's a good idea." Joseph says, smiling at me, like he's apologizing for Stanley's behaviour.
I smile, relieved that I've got some approval. "Thank you." I pull my phone out of my pocket and quickly check the time. It's quarter to six, so I look in the mirror for another second before grabbing a sweater. My friends look at me expectantly as I turn around, ready to be of any help. I don't really feel like I need anything, but just to give them the impression that their time wasn't wasted by coming over here, I ask, "So, any last minute advice?"
. . .
"You should put some eyeliner on." Riley muses. She hurriedly makes a gesture and I roll my eyes, hearing the 'not that you're not already hot or anything' ramble coming on. "I mean, not that your not already hot or anything!" I put down the phone and open my nightstand drawer as she continues. "Because you are, like, so hot. Both of you! But Marina is more 'nice and caring' and you're all 'dark and mysterious', but it's still—"
"Please tell me you're putting on the eyeliner already." Marina sighs.
I pull it out of the drawer and wave it in the air, forgetting they can't see me. "Got it."
"Oh, good!" Riley sounds pleasantly surprised.
They start having a conversation behind me, but I block them out. I wear eyeliner sometimes, but not often enough to be able to put it on without focusing. My phone chimes just as I finish, and after inspecting my work and deciding it's fine, I go back to the bed and check it.
"Oh, he's on the way, I got to go." I say.
"This is exciting!" Riley chirps. "Isn't this exciting?"
"Yes." Marina answers flatly. I'm grateful someone is calming her down. "We get it, it's the best thing since the royal wedding." I laugh while Riley emphatically agrees with the joking statement. "Wait," Marina tilts her head, "Are you wearing my shirt?"
I freeze, squinting at the screen and wondering exactly how certain she is in her accusation. I could play it off and act like it's mine, but then again, it's not like she can do anything about it now anyway. "...Yes."
"I was looking for that!" At first She sounds excited, but then her voice gets hard like it does when she scolding me for something I haven't done yet. "That's one of my favourite shirts, Maren. I swear if—"
"Well you never looked for it very hard, so how much can you really like it?" I say dismissively. Riley makes an 'ooooh' noise as Marina glowers through the screen. Despite her only being a few months older than me, the look fosters such a mother-like sternness that I immediately backtrack. "Yeah, I won't spill anything on it or whatever. God, have a little trust."
"Says the one who stole my sweater."
"By the way," Riley interjects before I can retort, "if it's a good date, leave something in the car."
The random comment is enough to settle the feud between Marina and me for the moment. Confusion takes its place, and I glance at the left side of my screen, where Marina's face is looking just as confused as I feel. "Why would I-"
"Oh, Steph is coming. Good luck!" With a wave and an excited grin, Riley abruptly hangs up, leaving me to look at Marina for answers.
"Any idea why she said that?"
Marina shakes her head. "No clue."
"Great." I roll my eyes. "Anyway, I have to go so..."
She smiles. I'm grateful she's at least acting normal about this. "Have fun. And text me later."
. . .
"Text me later." Stanley demands, turning his head to look at me over his shoulder, even as I'm literally pushing him out the front door. "And remember the rule—don't text her for at least three days afterward. You don't want to seem too interested." He advises.
Joseph shakes his head. "Yeah, don't do that." He calmly leads the way to the driveway for me and Stanley, who apparently needs to be persuaded to leave my home by physical force.
Stanley raises a finger. "Oh, and if things start going bad, just tell her you love her. Girls dig that shit."
Extremely doubtful of that comment, I push him forward so he finally starts moving on his own. Joseph shakes his head again, this time with much more urgency. "Definitely don't do that."
"And if she leaves something in the car, it's a good thing." Stanley says. Again, I turn to Joseph, who I've deemed much more sensible for the time being, only to find him looking just as confused as me. Stanley must notice our silence because he turns around, raising his eyebrows like the answer is obvious. "You know, because then you have to return it to her. It means she wants a second date." He winks and taps the side of his head, heading to Joseph's car.
I smile and nod at his retreating figure, but lean over to Joseph the moment he turns his back. "That's not a thing, right?" I ask quietly.
He shrugs. "Never heard of it."
Now at least 99% sure Stanley is actively trying to screw me up, I head to the door of my own car with the same level of certainty I had about the whole thing before they came over.
"Hey, don't worry!" Joseph shouts as though sensing my struggle. He's standing beside his black corolla, in no rush to get in. Stanley is on the other side, repeatedly and aggressively pulling the handle of the locked door. "You'll be fine."
His comment doesn't do much to help my confidence, but it feels good to know at least someone believes I won't completely screw up. I wave to him and get in the car.
The drive to Maren's house feels either shorter than usual or longer than usual, but I can't decide which. Even though my mind is blissfully blank on the way over, as I pull in the driveway one question pops in my head that I definitely should have had answered before I got to this point: how do I let her know I'm out here? Should I call her? Should I get out and knock on the front door? Or should I be more casual and just text her? Maybe I should just honk the horn—wait, that seems like something Stanley would do. Definite no on that one.
After a few seconds I decide that I'll get out and ring the doorbell (pretty sure Joseph would approve of that one). I've just stepped out onto the snow-covered driveway and closed the car door as I hear a creak. I look to the house in front of me to see a blur of motion. In the blink of an eye, the door is thrown open and closed again, Maren somehow managing to step out some time in between.
I should probably be thinking about what she's rushing for or what to say, but all I can think about as she practically flies down the steps is that she looks different than usual. For one, her hair is down, which I've only ever seen once before on her. Her coat is unzipped, and even though I can't tell exactly what's under it, it's definitely not a hoodie, so that's fairly different. It only takes this half a second of looking for me to decide that it's a good different, although I'm left wondering if anything she puts on could ever be a 'bad different'. She could be wearing pyjamas for all I care, and she'd still look just as good.
She seems to have a different opinion about the whole thing. Her hair falls in her face as she hurriedly descends the stairs, and she swipes it away with a scowl. I hold my breath as she steps over a patch of ice without looking.
Suddenly nervous that she's already mad at me before I've had a chance to screw up, I clear my throat, making her look up like she forgot I was here. She makes a wide gesture that sweeps from me to the road. "Well, let's go."
I don't need much more encouragement that that. I open my door again and step inside just as she opens up the passenger side door. "In a rush?" I ask, although it isn't much of a question. More like an observation.
"Yeah." She says shortly, closing her door while I put my seatbelt on. "My Mom wants to meet you."
I pause with my hand on the key, ready to turn it. "That's why you're rushing?" She looks at me, eyes widening in a 'duh' expression. I laugh. "Jeez, are you that worried for her to meet me?"
"What? No, of course not." Her assurance comes quickly and with a start of surprise, like she hadn't even considered I'd think that. She shakes her head. "No, I'm worried for you to meet her."
"Why?"
"Well, because—oh my god, can you just start up the car so we can go?" She looks paranoid as she leans forward to watch her front door through the windshield, as though she expects her mother to run out in the same rushed manner she did.
"I'm trying, but I think the battery is dead."
Her head snaps to me so fast that her hair swings from the momentum. And the expression on her face—eyebrows raised and mouth open, ready to order me to fix it—makes me grin. Her face drops when she realizes I'm joking, and she rolls her eyes, only making me laugh. I catch a slight smile on her face before she turns to look out the window.
"Go." She insists.
I obediently turn the key and back down the driveway.
A shadow passes in front of one of the windows as we're moving, and Maren mutters something under her breath. It's not like we'd turn back now anyway. The car is already on the road, and with a push of the shift stick, I put it in drive and we're off, away from any prying mothers. Although I have a feeling it's not as bad as she's making it out to be. Apparently Maren has a flare for the dramatic.
She seems to have collected herself once we get to the main road, breathing out a sigh and checking the side mirror once before settling into the seat. "So... where are we going?" She asks.
"Oh, did I neglect to tell you about the ball?" I feign guilt and she snorts, giving me a look that says she actually wants an answer. Her eyes somehow look different. Is she wearing eyeliner? "Joseph said I should leave it a surprise." I say without thinking. I'm only aware in the moments of silence that follow that she might not like that I've involved my friends in the matters.
"You talked to Joseph about this?" Thankfully there's nothing her voice that suggests she's mad, so I'm running on a perfect score so far. I have a feeling she consulted Marina and Riley too.
"And Stanley." I admit, just to hear whatever sarcastic barb she'll let out about the topic. "Although he didn't have much of anything useful to say."
"Wow, I'm shocked."
Her tone is just as flat as I predicted, and I laugh, both because of her predictability, and because I think her effortless deadpan will ever cease to amaze me.
"Don't worry about where we're going. I've engineered everything in this date to be as stress free as possible. Considering I've obviously been stressing you out enough."
It's hard to tell if her face goes red or not because of the dark, but she looks out the window with a huff and I think I have my answer. "It's the only thing I could think to say, alright? Besides, I'd like to see you say something better." She challenges.
"Oh, my speech would've been so good. You don't even know the half of it." I insist. Usually I wouldn't be so confident (because the speech I had planned was actually so much worse than hers), but knowing I'll never actually have to say it out loud gives me a burst of bravery. She chuckles. "I'm serious!"
"Right." She says disbelievingly.
Since we're on a relatively straight part of the road, I look over at her. She raises her eyebrows at me in challenge. "I would've swept you off your feet, Miss Elizabeth."
Even in the darkness of the car I can see her smile and roll her eyes, both of us turning back to the road. "Well, you really didn't need a stupid speech to do that." She sounds bored saying it, nonchalant. But then we pass a streetlight, and I notice a twinge of red on her cheeks. I grin.
"So," I start, "considering this is a stress-free zone-"
"Jesus Christ." She mutters under her breath.
"-I feel like I should warn you that I'm about to hold your hand."
I look for a reaction in my periphery, but see nothing to give her away. Her arm rests on the console between us, and I could easily just interlock our fingers, but I don't want to surprise her like that. I've learned that she doesn't really like surprises. So I wait for something; for her to move her hand, or for her to joke her way out of it.
"Only if you can safely drive with one hand." Is all she says.
I scoff, although elated she went with it. I haven't lost any points just yet. "Of course I can." I reach for her hand as I continue. "I'm multi-talented you kn—"
A rough—like, really rough—jolt hits the car, and the hand that was about to hold Maren's grasps the steering wheel once again as she straightens up, concerned. I see her glance at me in my periphery. I don't even want to imagine the smug look on her face, so I keep my eyes on the road. "Pothole?" She asks after a moment.
"Seemed like it." I reply. I rush to defend myself before she can make some jab at my driving skills. "Must've been too dark to see it." She makes a noise of agreement that I don't buy for a second. "And you know, the roads are slushy." Another humming noise. "And it's also..."
I trail off as I the car starts riding weird, a slight rumbling able to be felt through the seat and steering wheel. But then the rumbling turns into bumping. And the bumping turns into jolting. And then I pull over.
With a bumpy effort, I pull the car into a convenient empty parking lot and come to a creaking stop. I cautiously glance at Maren, who, judging by the way her lips are pressing together to hold in a laugh, knows exactly what just happened. I clench my jaw and stare out the windshield in disbelief. My hands grip the steering wheel, and in the darkness of the car, only lightened slightly by a distant streetlight, there's silence.
Maren clears her throat. "Flat tire?"
"Yeah."
Again, a contemplative quiet fills the car. Outside, a light snowfall peppers the ground.
"Do you know how to change it?" She asks.
I let a sigh out through my nose. "No."
I reach forward and turn off the car, the cutting out of the engine just making the emptiness of the street all the more clear. It might just be my mind, but I think I hear the hiss of air escaping rubber.
"Do you know how to change it?" I ask.
She's still pressing her lips together as she shakes her head, avoiding eye contact. I sigh loudly, roughly putting my hand to my side to find the seatbelt clip. When I miss the first and second time, I have to look down to locate it, finally getting it undone with a curse. The clip coils up and knocks loudly against the wall of the car.
"I'm sure it's not that bad." I grumble as I shove the door open.
Maren nods. "Yeah, of course."
A dignified exit from the car clearly would've been too much to ask for. I slip on some black ice and catch myself on the door with a groan of frustration. I slam the door with more force than necessary and stalk away to inspect the damage.
Even from outside the car, I can hear Maren let out the laugh she was holding.
. . .
"Alright, one step at a time." John mutters, rubbing his hands together. "So what's the first step?"
I lean against the car, holding my phone in front of me and looking at instructions for changing a tire. John is in front of me, hands on his hips as he stares down the tire like it killed his dog or something. After his mini temper tantrum (which was, admittedly, very amusing), he quickly decided to bite the bullet and try to carry on. My job is to read him the instructions. He's not sure what his job is yet.
"Find a flat, stable, and safe place to change your tire." I read.
John's eyes flick around the empty parking lot, which, aside from a couple dips in a pavement, looks pretty flat and stable. "Done." He confirms.
I scroll down on my phone and find the second step, which happens to be 'turn on the hazards'. I quickly decide that's not necessary, since everything is looking pretty vacant, and move along. "Apply the park brake."
He nods, a smile coming across his face that has a tad too much pride in it. "Already did that."
"Wow, are you sure you haven't done this before?" I feign wonder and he wrinkles his nose at me, realizing his confidence was a little premature. I chuckle and scroll down to the next step. "Place a heavy object under the wheels."
Now he looks lost, eyebrows shooting up as he swivels his head, as though there's going to be a few random bricks laying around in the parking lot. Before he can descend into panic again, I shrug. "Since the park brake is on, it probably doesn't matter that much." I suggest. He nods in agreement and gestures for me to continue. "Take out the spare tire and the jack."
"Right." He says slowly, nodding. But then he looks up with narrowed eyes. "And that would be...?"
There's a pause as he raises his eyebrows at me. "... In a compartment in the trunk." I answer slowly.
He snaps his fingers and heads to the back of the car. "See? I was testing you."
I roll my eyes, but when he shoots me a grin I can't help but smile back. In a minute he's popped the trunk and lifted the cover of the the compartment, dragging the tire out. I grab the jack and a wrench-looking thing and meet him at the front of the vehicle.
He puts the tire down and rubs his hands together to get the dust off. I don't really see the point of that since his hands will, no doubt, only get dirty again within the next couple minutes, but I don't say anything. "Next step, m'lady?"
I shake my head in amusement at the name, but refuse to question it, knowing he's only waiting for a reaction. "Loosen the lug-nuts slightly."
"Loosen the... wait, with what? I don't have—" I tap his arm with the wrench before he can have another episode. He pauses and blinks at the piece of metal in my hand before meeting my eyes again. "Where'd you get that?"
Feigning confusion, I look down at the wrench and then back up. "What, this thing?" I ask, swinging it up to rest on my shoulder. I lean my hip against the car, shrugging. "I just carry it around."
He shakes his head for a moment, eyes glancing up at the dark sky as he lets out a breath that turns into a laugh. I grin and hold the wrench out for him once again.
"It was there with the tire." I say as he takes it from my hand. "Where'd you think I got it?"
He, very obviously, changes the topic. "So when you say 'loosen slightly'... how slightly, exactly?"
After we take a guess at how 'slightly' to loosen the nuts, he gets back to work, looking unnatural as he fits the wrench on the lug-nut and cranks it. When Stanley changed the tire on Riley's van, his movements were fluid and efficient, like he's done it a thousand times before. But John looks nothing like that. His hands are slow and unsure, and what I imagine mine would look like if I were in his position.
I turn to lean my back against the car, careful the keep the light pointed at the tire. "So, I take it you're not a handy-man." I say.
"Is it obvious?" He looks up, squinting into the light with a weak smile. Snowflakes dance in the beam of the light in front of his eyes. "Because I was kind of hoping it wasn't obvious."
I chuckle, lifting my head to gaze across the icy parking lot to the dark windows of the empty stores in the other side. The sound of the wrench clicking seems to ring in the chilly air, only interrupted when a sigh leaves my mouth, unfurling in front of me in a cloud of fog.
I note that nothing feels different. Not the talking, or him, or the feelings—it's all the same. And I guess, in a way, I'm relieved. I liked the way we were before the whole 'dating' business, but I wasn't naive enough to think that nothing would change. I thought it might be at least a little weird, awkward even, but I was wrong. Because despite the cold air and the flat tire, being with him just gives me a feeling of comfort. That being said, I definitely wouldn't turn down a bit of heat right about now, but other than that everything is great.
"You still never told me why you don't want me to meet your mom."
I'm almost startled to hear John's voice break the quiet. I glance down, but he's focused hard on his work, a crease appearing between his furrowed eyebrows as he fits the wrench to another nut.
I shrug, looking away. "Well, you were kind of too busy hitting potholes for us to talk about it."
"Pothole, not 'potholes' plural. Only one."
"Does that make it better?"
We meet each other's eyes at the same time. I raise my eyebrows. He wrinkles his nose. I manage to look away before breaking into a grin.
"You still haven't answered." He presses lightly.
"Okay, fine." I put my hands in my pockets, pushing them into the fabric of my coat. "She may have been a little..." I struggle, not liking my answer, or the reason behind it, "...overly excited."
"Oh? Why?"
I point my eyes at the sky, focusing on a few clouds that drift through the moonlight as I let out a conflicted breath through my nose. "Well, I've never been on a, you know, date before, so..." I shrug as he finishes with the last nut, resting an arm on his knee and letting the wrench hang down. I'm at least 90% sure he won't judge me for this, and that's the only reason I said it.
"Yeah, when I went on my first date, my mom made peanut butter cookies and gave them to the girl on the drive to the movie theatre." I smile at the way he cringes in embarrassment. He clears his throat and squints up at me through the beam of light. "Turns out she was allergic to peanuts. We had to run her home to get her epi-pen, and her mom had to bring her to the hospital."
Shocked that the story went that way, I laugh, though simultaneously wondering how he always knows exactly what to say. Every time I'm hesitant to tell him something, he just responds in a way that immediately lets me know how stupid I was for thinking he'd see me any differently for it.
"Was she okay?" I ask.
He waves a hand dismissively, as though he didn't just tell me his first date was a trip to the hospital. "Oh yeah, she was fine. The real crime is that I still never got to see the second Thor movie."
"Well you didn't miss much. It was okay at best."
He sighs dramatically and looks back at the tire. "I still would've liked to see it, but life goes on I guess. Speaking of which..." he raises he eyebrows, "what's the next step?"
I quickly look down at my phone, forgetting for a moment why we were here instead of driving to wherever he plans to take me. I'd be content if we just stayed here the whole time, the silence in the cold air only interrupted by our voices, but I guess he has a plan he wants to stick to. "Raise the jack until it's supporting, but not lifting the car."
"Alright..." he reaches behind him for the jack, which he places behind the tire after feeling around for a solid spot. Seeming to like the position of it, he makes a noise of affirmation and reaches toward it. But then he stops, leans back, and cocks his head at it like a confused dog. A smile tugs at my mouth as he glances at me, then at the jack. Then at me, then at the ground. Then at the jack. Then at me. "Um... am I really supposed to lift the entire car by turning that little nut?"
I hum in thought and look down at the device that's perplexing him. "To be fair, you don't have to lift the entire car." He looks up at me. I shrug. "Only, like, half of it."
"Not helpful."
I struggle not to laugh as he continues staring at it, and I wait to see if he'll figure it out on his own. After a few moments I decide he might need a hint. I clear my throat. "Hey, do you think the wrench has anything to do with it?"
It takes a moment for understanding to dawn on his face, but once it does he hurriedly picks up the wrench again and fits it to the nut. "It fits!" He confirms.
I shake my head fondly as he easily starts raising the jack with his newfound leverage. "You know, I'm beginning to think you have a trend of bad dating luck."
"Hey, this isn't too bad." He says. I roll my eyes, thinking of a specific, large freak-out that happened no more than fifteen minutes ago. "This is just... a hiccup. That's all."
"Well, I never said this was bad." I correct. He looks up at me in question. "This is actually pretty funny."
John snorts in a dismissive way that makes it obvious 'funny' isn't how he'd describe the incident. "I actually think it's more unbelievable than anything. I mean, we've come across three car problems so far this year, and we're only two weeks in. It has to be a record."
I shake my head. "Two of those problems happened to Riley's van, which doesn't count since it's falling apart anyway."
He laughs, but nods in agreement. "Still, two flat tires in the span of a couple weeks? Just seems like a coincidence."
"Or you and Riley are just really bad at avoiding potholes." I suggest. He laughs and nods, swinging the wrench slightly as a few seconds of silence tick by. I raise an eyebrow at his stillness, thinking from his anxiety about the whole thing that he'd want to get the tire on as soon as possible. "Um, don't want to rush you or anything, but why are you stopping?"
"Oh, well..." he touches the device under the car, as though he's afraid to damage it. "The jack is touching the metal, but I can't lift it up anymore." I blink at him. "You're leaning on the—"
"Oh! Sorry." I hurriedly push myself from the cold door on my back, moving to stand a few feet away on the ice-patched pavement of the parking lot. As I watch him obediently go back to raising the jack, I wonder if he would've ever asked me to move if I didn't notice it myself. Probably not. "You don't need to raise it too high." I say as his wrench cranks start to get a bit more strenuous because of the weight of the car.
He nods and continues. After a minute, he takes the wrench away and gives his progress a contemplative head tilt. "Is that good?"
I look down at the instructional picture on my phone for confirmation. "Looks good."
"Awesome."
He gets to work with fully loosening the lug nuts, while I stand by and assist as needed, and by 'assist' I mean taking the nuts from him when he gets them off so they don't get lost. Finally, after what seems like an excessive amount of time and wrench-cranking gone by, all the nuts are off and John removes the tire. He puts it next to him and tips it over so it won't roll away before looking at me with a grin.
"We did it!" He exclaims, seeming to forget about the second part of the ordeal that still needs to be done. Sure he successfully removed the tire, but I think actually putting the other one on is equally as important. I refrain from saying anything in fear of spoiling his success, but his excitement dies off quickly anyway once he remembers the same thing as me. "So... how long does it usually take people to change a tire?" He asks.
"It took Stanley about fifteen minutes, I think."
"And how long have we been here?"
"Twenty five."
"Oh." Surprisingly, he doesn't seem that dejected by the information. "Well, I honestly thought it would take me a lot longer, so I'm counting that as a win."
I laugh, silently agreeing with him. Maybe it's because we just talked about how long we've been out here, or maybe it's just because we lapse into silence, but the winter air is suddenly a lot less comfortable to be standing in.
"So how long do you think it'll take to put the tire on?" He asks.
"Um..." Some of my hair blows in front of my eyes, and I brush it back as I try to think of a reasonable answer. I seriously have no idea how long the process usually takes, let alone how long it'll take him. But because it's pretty cold outside, or maybe just because he looks so discouraged, I shrug and shoot him a smile. "Probably less than twenty five minutes."
I don't even notice the cold anymore when he smiles back. Inspired by my confidence in him, he props the spare upright, examining it for a moment before giving a determined nod. "Alright, one step at a time..."
. . .
"You're lost."
"I'm not lost."
"You are so lost."
"I'm not lost."
"Where are we then?"
I look forward at the unfamiliar road, orange street lights reflecting off the pavement, which is wet from the melted snow. I click my tongue. The buildings keep passing by.
"Close." I answer vaguely.
"To where?" Maren challenges. I glance at her, where she's setting me with an arched eyebrow and stupidly smug smirk that tells me that she has no doubt that I don't know where I'm going.
Instead of admitting my trouble, I just look back to the road. "Wouldn't you like to know..."
"Yes I would." There's a laugh in her voice. "So then maybe I could help you find it."
"Hey, I'm good. I know exactly where I'm going."
She puts her hands up, seemingly in surrender, but I don't buy the act for a moment. I know she's just letting me continue so she can throw the words back later, but I don't mind if it keeps her laughing.
The car continues rumbling down the road, and we pass houses at a rate slower than the speed limit in a desperate attempt for me to spot something familiar. Eventually I decide that backtracking would probably be my best bet, so I pull into a driveway to turn around. How did I even manage to drive us into a subdivision? Why did I think that would be a good way to get to anywhere? Why—
"You should ask that guy for directions." Maren points to a nearby driveway, where a man has the hood of his truck popped up and is pouring what appears to be windshield wash into it.
"I'm good." I insist. She gives me a look—flat and knowing. I look away defiantly, shifting the gear to pull out of the driveway. After a moment of silence as I back up, I shake my head. "I'm not asking for directions."
I get us back on the road, pointed the opposite way we were just going. Maren clicks her tongue. "Wow. The rom-coms were right. Men really don't like asking for directions."
I chuckle and look at her. "You watch rom-coms?"
"Not the point." She says quickly. I smile inwardly, knowing she's watched enough of them to know that this situation is a common theme. "The point is, you don't know where you're going, and you're too stubborn to ask for help."
My eyes snap to hers in disbelief, and I forget to press on the gas, leaving us stopped in the middle of the road. Maren Elizabeth just called me stubborn; the same girl who refused the wear a coat in fifteen below zero just because I told her to, who watched an entire movie again just to support the lie that she had never seen it before, who started an ongoing, five-year-long grudge with Stanley Worthington because he called her 'sweetheart' in grade seven. Maren Elizabeth just called me stubborn. I can barely belief it.
After an embarrassing second of gaping at her disbelief, I scoff. "I'm not too stubborn to—"
"Then do it." I huff. She shrugs and gestures at the man. "He looks very nice."
I roll my eyes and send her a half-hearted glare. Mostly because I know she's actually right and I do need directions, but also because she's smiling and I'm afraid to look for too long I'll actually smile back and any of my earlier resistance wouldn't matter.
I pull over and get out of the car, approaching the driveway the guy is in. When I get close he looks up and smiles as I wave. I stubbornly admit to myself that Maren was right; he does look nice, especially considering I'm a stranger walking up to his house on a dark night. I ask him for directions, first to actually get out of the subdivision, and then to get where I want to go. After some straightforward instructions and a small conversation, I get back in the car and hook up my seatbelt.
"Got it?" Maren asks.
All I do is nod, afraid if I talk too much I'll forget everything he told me. Maren seems to realize the same thing, and stays silent as we make out way back where we came from to get to the main road.
When we finally find the main road, and I take the instructed left, I think that maybe this date might be salvageable after all.
. . .
I'll be honest, out of all the places he could have taken me, mini golf would not have been my first guess. Or even in the top ten guesses really. Still, I thought it would be fun... until I noticed the suspiciously empty parking lot, and the dark storefront of the place. Upon parking, John quickly ordered me to stay in the vehicle so he could get out and see the business hours on the glass doors of the building. He's now been standing outside for about two minutes, staring at the piece of paper taped to the inside of the door like he's willing it to change with the power of his mind alone. Even if I can't see the paper from here, I have an idea of what's going on.
Finally John starts to make his way back, the progress slow and tired. He opens the door, roughly drops into the seat, and closes the door again. I expect him to say something, but all he does is calmly hook up his seat belt, put both of his hands on the steering wheel, and stare out the windshield at the siding of the building. He stays that way for a while, and I stay quiet, letting him have this time to process.
"So..." he says eventually, "it's closed."
I should probably say something comforting—something dumb about how it's all okay because it's the thought that counts, or maybe something gross like I had a good time anyway because I was here with him. And while I admit that those are both true (even the latter despite the sappiness), all I can do is focus on trying not to laugh. He doesn't see it right now, but this whole situation is quite hilarious. It's clear that we both took this date seriously; I changed my whole outfit too many times to count, he's wearing an actual button-up shirt under his jacket and his hair looks tidier than normal. Even the buildup to this moment—from the time we spent dancing around the subject, to the actual 'asking out' bit, and even to the flat tire and getting lost—has been so drawn-out that I think we were both expecting the result to be this perfect, awesome, seamless... thing. But that's stupid because nothing about any part of whatever relationship we have has ever been 'perfect', so why would our first date be either?
And just as I decide that I'll take some pity on him, and comfort him by treating this slight inconvenience like the detrimental mistake he sees it as, he sends all of my prepared comforting words away with one action. As though his soul is broken in two equally despaired pieces, he leans forward, closes his eyes, and presses his forehead into the steering wheel with a painful-sounding thunk. And he just stays there. Saying nothing. Doing nothing. And I laugh.
I probably shouldn't. I mean, I definitely shouldn't considering he looks like he's actually broken, but I can't help it. The whole situation, topped off with the childish reaction in front of me is just too pitiful, and I have to look away, pressing my lips together to reign in my amusement.
"I don't know why you're laughing." John grumbles, and it's almost enough to make me crack up again. "Your date is ruined."
"Oh come on, my date isn't ruined." I say. He looks at me sceptically out of the corner of his eye, and I tilt my head so I'm at his level. My hair falls in front of my face as I meet his eyes. "Our date is ruined."
He closes his eyes once again and lets out a tired sigh. I chuckle at his reaction, hoping he sees the situation as humorous as I do, but it's no avail as he doesn't say anything else. Apparently my sarcasm isn't helping matters. Who would've thought?
"Are you okay?" I ask after another moment.
"Yeah, I'm fine." He mutters, nodding against the wheel. "I've got it all together."
"You don't look like you've got it all together."
At my words, he slowly lifts his head from the wheel and pushes himself back until his spine is straight against the seat, hands still gripping the wheel. He looks at me, jaw set and eyes narrowed in a last surge of determination. As much as I appreciate the act, he has a red spot on his forehead from the steering wheel, and it looks a little funny.
He sighs. I hadn't even realized I failing at stifling a smile. "What?"
I just shake my head. "Nothing."
"What is it?"
"You didn't ruin our date, John."
He snorts disbelievingly and looks away, out his window. "You don't have to say that. It was your first date ever, and all I had to do was make sure the stupid mini-golf place was open, but it's Sunday and I should have known that everything closes early on Sundays but I just never thought of—"
"Hey, I've never even been mini-golfing before." I interrupt, trying to make him feel better.
I immediately regret my words when he looks taken aback, mouth opening and closing as he looks between me and the building. "That makes it even worse!"
"No, no! I never meant it like... that. I promise!" I hold my hands out. "Can you just—what I mean is that nothing was ruined. It's fine. And, um..." I try to search for a positive. "We're still going to eat somewhere, right? It's not even over yet."
Satisfied with my reasoning, I wait for him to adjust to the new goal: food. But he doesn't. He just shakes his head and gestures at the building. "There was actually a place to eat in there that I was planning to go to."
My eyebrows shoot up, appalled at his absolutely terrible luck. "Wow." He nods along sadly. I really don't know what else to do. I've never been great at this whole... people thing. I'm fine with resolving issues, but when they need to be resolved with words, not actions, I fall short. Despite this, and knowing I'll probably only make things worse, I try again.
"Look, this isn't... bad. You only think it's bad."
"Because it is bad."
"No, it's not." He sighs through his nose and tilts his head back, turning to reluctantly look at me. I copy him, leaning back and turning my head to look at him fully. His hair is wet from melted snowflakes, and his eyes are tired and guilty, but he still looks good. He always does. "It's not bad." I say again. I shake my head, looking past him to the empty parking lot. The icy pavement and orange glow of the streetlight remind me of forty minutes ago, when he was changing the tire. "This is... nothing. It's..." I shrug and smile as I meet his eyes again, "it's just a hiccup. That's all."
He sends me a pointed look at my repetition of his earlier line, and I cringe slightly, very aware and slightly embarrassed about how borderline-sappy it was. He lets out a huff that kind of sounds like a chuckle. "Okay." He says after a minute, nodding into the silence that follows. "Fine, yeah. I mean, the most important part of any date is the food anyway. That's like... dating 101."
"Exactly." I agree, even though I have absolutely zero knowledge on this type of thing. He seems better now, which is fortunate because usually he's the more level-headed one between the two of us, and I really wouldn't have known what to do if this guilt-ridden episode lasted any longer.
"Great." I'm glad to see him smile, but slightly suspicious when he directs his expectant expression on me.
I raise my eyebrows. "What?"
"Where are we going to eat?"
My eyebrows furrow. "Why do I have to decide?"
"Listen, clearly me picking anything about this date is not going well. So it's your turn. Where are we going?"
Now that the tables have turned, I'm the one sitting in silence, blinking as my eyes drift to the window beside him. Eventually I shrug. "I don't care. You choose."
"We've been through this." He says. "Just choose a place to eat."
"It doesn't matter."
"Maren, just—"
"I said I don't care where we eat, so I don't care, so you choose." I hold up my hands like I'm physically taking my opinion out of the decision.
John looks at me for a long moment. Then he clicks his tongue. "Wow." He says. I raise an eyebrow in question. "The rom-coms we're right. Women really can't choose a place to eat."
I scoff, crossing my arms and turning to stubbornly stare out the windshield. I decide I won't say anything, forcing him to choose a spot and securing my win in his little challenge. But then he laughs at what I assume to be my attitude shift, and I give in.
"Take a left." I say.
"Hm?" He asks, but he's already putting the car in reverse, and is only getting me to repeat the direction out of amusement.
Nevertheless, I can't let him win, so I look him in the eyes and say slowly, "Go to the road, and take a left."
He just chuckles. "Yes, ma'm."
. . .
"A food truck."
"Yes."
I look at the stubborn girl by my side, where she looks up and raises her eyebrows as though daring me to challenge her again. But I'm long past the point of being scared of this particular expression, so I nod ahead at the steam being expelled from the actual food truck in front of us.
"It's winter. And you brought us to a food truck."
"Yes."
"... Outdoors."
"You took us to a mini-golf place that was closed." Her tone is airy and final, and some might mistake it for serious, but I know she's only joking. Well, I hope.
"Low blow." I say. She just shrugs with a smug smirk.
Someone calls "next!" and she vanishes the expression so fast I wonder if it was ever there. As we move up to the window, she greets the guy with a small, though polite smile. It's a subtle, but oddly warm expression from her, and I take a moment to wonder where it came from until she finishes ordering a poutine, and then I'm next. I didn't get the chance to look at the menu since I was teasing her about her choice, so I just order the same thing.
The order is ready in record time, and we take our food to a bench to eat it. The food truck, like any business that solely relies on people walking by, is located in the 'downtown' area of the city. It's not like most 'downtowns', with skyscrapers and cars honking and business people on phones; here, especially on a Sunday, downtown is quite peaceful. Of course cars go by on the road behind us, and people pass on the sidewalk, coming or going from the numerous pubs and restaurants on the water-front, but from we're sitting, all of that is behind us. I look forward to the calm waters of the harbour, ice pans bobbing near the large ships tied by the dock. The food truck wasn't a bad choice by a long-shot.
"How'd you know it would be open?" I ask Maren, who's already begun eating the steaming food. "I mean, I don't know of many food trucks that are open during the winter."
"Well, you know how the university is close to here?" She asks. I nod and she continues. "They actually have a daycare there, so sometimes when Mom had night classes, she'd drop me off there. She wouldn't finish until late in the night, so we came down here a lot." She shrugs, smiling. "Even now if she's working late at the hospital, she'll pick me up after and we'll come down at like midnight."
"That's so cool." I say, and I mean it. All I've heard about her childhood so far hasn't been too great, so it's nice to know she has some happy memories inside her, even if I need to ask a million questions to get them out. "Why are they open that late?" I ask.
"Oh they're open until two on the weekends. People get hungry when they drink I guess."
I make a noise of agreement as I put a couple fries in my mouth. As soon as I chew them I have to stop and look at her. She raises an eyebrow as I point down at the paper box in my hand "This is good."
She chuckles. "Yeah, I know."
"No, but this is like, really good."
"I know." She repeats, settling back into the bench with a slightly smug smile. It's like she knew, without a single doubt, this would work out.
"I'm letting you plan the next date." I declare as she puts more fries in her mouth. She makes a noise, either in acceptance or resistance, but I can't tell. "I mean, I spent a whole day figuring out what we should do, and it all failed, but you spend two seconds to decide where to eat and it's perfect."
"Yeah, well a google search would've went a long way for you." She teases. "I think we should just count ourselves lucky we didn't get another flat tire."
I laugh but nod, agreeing with her fully. We lapse into silence, the noise of life going on in the background somehow seeming to fill the gaps, leaving just a nice, warm feeling in me that has nothing to do with the food.
"It feels the same." Maren's voice doesn't exactly surprise me, but her words do confuse me. My eyebrows furrow and I look over at her to find her focused intently on the water. "I mean, it's a good thing. I just thought I'd be more like..." she shakes her head, seeming to struggle.
"We're actually on a date and not just hanging out?" I suggest.
Her eyebrows shoot up and she glances at me in surprise. "Um... yeah. Exactly that actually." I chuckle because I was actually thinking the same thing. "It's it bad?" She asks. She has fries on her fork, but she doesn't eat them, letting them get cold in the air as she gets lost in thought. It's funny how she's clearly troubled by this, staring at the rippling water with pinched-in eyebrows and an uncertain slant to her mouth.
"I don't think it's bad." I say honestly. She finally starts eating again as I start talking. I shrug. "This is turning out to be my most successful date yet, actually."
She stops chewing, glancing at me disbelievingly. I nod and she raises her eyebrows. When she speaks, her voice is garbled. "How many dates have you been on."
"Only three, including this one."
"Okay..." she nods, swallowing. "And one of them went to the hospital..."
"Correct."
"So what happened to the other one?"
I look down at both our bowls of fries. "Food poisoning." I admit. Maren shakes her head in wonder, a smile starting to tug at her mouth. "And then we went to the hospital because of the food poisoning."
Her eyes flick to mine, vibrant, searching. I smile innocently, grinning when she breaks into a laugh, the sound clear and wonderful in a way that brings warmth to the cold air. I used to feel really bad about my earlier romantic catastrophes, but they suddenly seem a little less terrible. "Oh my God, John. Those poor girls."
I laugh too, agreeing with her. They never talked to me after that. "I know."
She tries to be serious for a moment, vanishing the grin from her face, only for her to look at me and it fights it's way back. "So what you're saying is that all I have to do to win 'best date' is to not die."
"Exactly." I confirm. She rolls her eyes. "To be fair though, you probably would've won anyway. Even if we did have to take a trip to the hospital."
"Oh, probably." She repeats, arching an eyebrow.
"Don't worry, your odds are pretty good."
She snorts and shakes her head. "Awesome."
We finish eating, talking about a few things that don't mean anything, but keep us entertained. When we finish, I spot a garbage can across the dock and take our bowls over to throw them out. As I walk back, my eyes drift to Maren, waiting for me back on the bench. She looks relaxed, leaning into the seat-back with her hands in the pocket of her coat, which is unzipped, though the cold doesn't seem to be bothering her. She almost doesn't look real, with the warm glow of streetlight illuminating her features, peaceful like the waves in the harbour she's looking out at. A light breeze blows a few strands of dark hair out of place, and she lifts a hand to tuck it behind her ear. I smile a little, glad she decided to wear it down. It makes her look looser: more like a teenager and less like someone who grew up a little too fast.
She looks up at me when I stop in front of the bench. I hold my hand out to her. "Ready to go?"
She smiles and puts her hand in mine without a hint of hesitation, letting me pull her up. Our hands stay laced together as we walk down the relatively vacant sidewalk, swinging between us.
I can't help but think that she's wrong. Everything feels different. But it's a good different.
Hey guys!
Remember when my ANs used to be super short and not filled with apologies for my updating speed? Yeah, I don't either.
You all know what's coming, but I am very very sorry. School is the main problem right now, and when I write when I'm stressed out by the work I haven't done, it doesn't turn out well, so I try to only write when I have everything I need to get done, done (which is turning out to be not very often). I have a few things to say, so (if you actually take the time to read this thing) brace yourself for a bit of a lengthy AN.
So I've made a plan for moving forward. When I started this story, I was younger and honestly didn't think it was going to get as popular as it did (thanks guys :) ) so I started it with a very vague idea of where I wanted it to go. Since then I've made it much more specific in my mind, but the plan for chapters to get to that point was still super foggy. So I've done the mature thing, and actually made a plan of almost every chapter's contents till the end (should've done this when I started the story, but like a said, I was younger and not very organized). People have been asking me how much longer I plan to continue this story for, and I'm glad to say I finally have an answer: as it's looking now, this story should extend to around 45 chapters. That's a pretty solid number, and as long as nothing comes up that I desperately need to put into the story, that where it'll stay. I'll keep you guys updated though if it does change.
Now, about the addition of certain characters. A lot of people are asking about that, and the answer is that I will not be introducing any of the side characters from the main stories, or from generation one (I'm ashamed to say that I stopped reading after United as One), at least as it stands now. To put more characters into the story would mean more relationships and interactions and, to put it simply, the story would go on way too long. There's already six main characters, and three different relationships that I need to focus on, and I would not be able to keep up with more. This also means that I won't be doing a One and Adam sideplot. I had it planned out in my head, but when I actually did the chapter-by-chapter plan, I realized how much time it would take to establish a relationship between the two, and I don't have the time to spend at it considering I'm not even keeping up great with this story as it is. I know I said I would, but I'm sorry, this story would be way too long.
So another thing is that there's going to start being a little more conflict in this story, if ya'll want it to. I've said it many times before, and I'll say it again, I'm writing what you guys want to read, and a lot of people have been wanting more conflict. I had honestly wanted to start writing it anyway, and it started with Maren's thing to test it out, so let me know if that's the direction you want me to go (that's what my plan is for right now, so if you guys want something different I will have to revise it).
The last, and most important, thing is that I hope you're all safe and healthy. Covid19 is kind of throwing the whole world off its axis. I'm in Canada, which is getting along pretty good for now, but most of you guys are from different parts of the world, where everything is so much worse than here. I'm assuming most of you guys are in quarantine or semi-quarantine (like I am), so I hope this aleiviates a bit of the boredom, if just for a little bit. I wish you all the best, and hope the world will soon return to a bit more of it's normal state soon.
Anyway, I've gone on way too long. Just want to quickly apologize for the wait again (sorry!) and thank everyone who read/reviewed. Honestly means so much to me, since if you guys weren't reading, I wouldn't be writing, so thank you :)
Reviews:
loricnumbersix6—Hi! There won't be anymore drama with Maren and David, at least not for a while. And I do plan to expand more on the personal lives of all the characters, Stanley included. Thank you so much for the review!
I Wish I Could Be Number Five—Hey! If you haven't noticed, I based almost everything in this chapter from your review (hope you don't mind). I was initially going to have everything work out perfectly, but then I saw your review and thought that everything being messed up suited John and Maren quite good, so thank you for that :). Thanks for the review and super glad you're still enjoying the story!
Legacies Lover— Hey, thanks for reviewing! And also thanks for putting all your questions in list form! Makes it way easier to answer :) So here we go... 1) Don't think I will be inviting other characters outside the main ones into the story. Between three main couples in the one story, it's getting harder to focus on everyone, so if I were to do it I'd probably do like you suggested and only have them there for a chapter or two. Not planning that anytime soon though. 2) focusing more on the characters' backgrounds is something I planned to do for sure, and will actually start somewhat next chapter. 3) Yes, absolutely. Riley's, Joseph's, and Marina's family is something that I will definitely expand on in the future, as well as John's and Stanley's. Won't focus too much more on Maren's since we kind of already looked into that. 4) Love that you love Ranley, and yes, there will for sure be more content with them. You'll be happy to know it's actually coming very soon (and by soon I mean next chapter). Long response but I hope you don't mind. Thanks for reviewing and I hope you continue to enjoy the story!
LorinenXLegacies— Hi! You weren't rude, everything you said is true. I've done the math myself, and I know it will take an extraordinary amount of time to finish this thing if I keep going like I am. I hope you know that I really don't mean to take this long. I say this a lot, but life does get in the way of a lot of things, and trust me, this story isn't the only thing I'm struggling to meet deadlines for. That being said, you're right, it does suck having to wait so long for chapters (I know the feeling, and hate that I've actually turned into a person that makes people wait forever for content). Not much I can say except I do feel really bad, and I'll try my best to update quicker. If it's any consolation, it's almost summer now, so I'm crossing my fingers I'll have more time for this with school out of the way. Nevertheless, thank you so much for the review!
Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Even if I didn't mention your name up there (for the sake of time I only wrote back to people who left direct questions), I see what you guys say and appreciate it to all ends :)
See you next time!
