Hi! I want to say I'm really sorry for taking so long to update, I had exams on the go last week but thankfully that's all done so hopefully I'll be able to update faster now. As always, thanks so much for the the reviews, they're amazing! Anyway, please read on!
John
My gym bag thumps against my side, the strap digging into my shoulder as I walk to the track. The grass sways around me in time with the fall breeze, already cold with the approaching winter. It's now the end of September and it's getting cold. Fast. I should have wore pants, not shorts. Anywhere else would still be warm now, but the weather here is more than a little unstable so we have to deal with this. Today the temperature reached a high of seventeen, then didn't take long to plummet down to ten degrees and here we are. Of course, the drizzle isn't helping matters. The moisture clings to my skin and feels no different than ice on my arms and legs. At least I'll be running soon.
12:32.06. That's my time for last year's hundred meter. I plan on beating it, or at least coming close today. I'm currently making my way over to the running track for tryouts after just changing in the school. Both Stanley and Joe are going over there too, well supposed to be. As I look through the fog all around me, I see a few figures all walking in the same direction I am, although none that fit the body outline of either of my friends. I strongly suspect they'll be late, but that's not my problem.
I get to the track quickly, it's only a field over from the school anyway, but the wind and cold dew on the grass wetting my sneakers made the short trek feel like a lengthy journey. I'm sure I could ring water out of my socks by now and I wonder how my numb feet will be able to carry my body when it's my time to run.
I drop my bag down on the grass next to the bench, thankfully it's water proof. Some people are already here, doing stretches, warming up, or practicing on the track. I make my way to a part of the track that nobody is using and shake out my legs, attempting to draw some feeling back into my feet. It doesn't work so I try jumping up and down. After that fails I walk back to the bench defeated and check my watch. It's now five minutes until practice is supposed to start and Joseph and Stanley still haven't made an appearance.
I still need to warm up my feet though so I resort to slipping off my sneakers to hopefully dry the socks. My plan turns out to be futile as the fog and drizzle prevent my socks from making any progress with ridding the water from the fabric. I reach down to rub my feet with my hands and I'm assured that my socks are completely soaked. Great. Still, I put in the effort, desperately and a little violently trying to rub some feeling back into my feet. It helps a little.
I look around again, noticing a couple more silhouettes slowly advancing in my direction. The sight actually looks a bit eerie, the fog having a dreary effect on everything. I try to convince myself that I'm looking for my friends but I know that's not true. Maren has been the fastest sprinter on the girls track team for two years running now, and I've been expecting, and hoping for her to show up. Although I know she will, she's not one to just let someone take the top spot right out from under her.
"Hey." I look to my left to be greeted by Joseph. He sits down next to me on the bench, he's wearing track pants like I should have done, but he also walked his sneakers through the wet grass and they are visibly wet. It doesn't seem to be bothering him though.
"Hey, you ready?" I ask him.
He shrugs happily, the weather not even deterring his mood. "Maybe. I'm just gonna try my best and we'll see where it leads."
I nod. "Do you know where Stanley is?" I ask. Joseph looks puzzled and takes a glance around like I've been doing for the past ten minutes.
"Well I never saw him on the way up so..." He shrugs then grins. "On the bright side, if he doesn't show up somebody else might have a chance at getting the top time." He says hopefully.
Like Maren, Stanley always gets the top time for the guys tryouts and has been for the last couple years. I don't doubt that he'll show up eventually though, he'd probably rather break both his legs than let someone take the top spot. Stanley's fastest run was 10:58.45 last year, pretty much Olympic worthy and I'm completely sure there'll be scouts for him at some of the track meets this year. He'll have no problem getting a sports scholarship if he can only keep his grades up.
Before I can respond, I spot coach Powell coming up the hill, a clipboard in hand and a whistle around his neck. He has been the track coach ever since I've been here. His hair is close cut to his head and he almost never smiles. A rather intimidating man really.
"Reyes, Smith. Back again I see." He says when he gets closer, his voice sharp and gruff. Usually people mistake his tone for anger or annoyance, but you soon come to learn that it's just the way he normally sounds.
"Yes sir." Joseph replies enthusiastically while I nod, sitting up straighter in the process.
"I'm hoping to beat last year's time today, sir. Been training all summer." I inform him, knowing from the past that you have to put in work for him to respect you.
He smiles tightly, which some would mistake for a grimace. "Good to know. You're one of our best runners, John. Happy to have you back, both of you." He nods and stalks toward the small hut that's built along the side of the track that I assume has different race materials in it.
"He really has a warm personality doesn't he?" Joseph says sarcastically once he's out of earshot. I laugh but don't have time to respond, quickly jumping up when coach blows his whistle, signalling he's about to start the tryouts.
Joseph and I quickly jog over with the rest of the students, everybody forming a semicircle around him.
"For those of you who do not know, I'm coach Powell." He says, not even looking up and flipping a page on his clipboard that must be the list of people that signed up to tryout. "When I call your name, answer loudly. I will not be looking up." He starts calling names, every emotionless yell immediately answered by a loud 'here'.
"Maren." He yells, not even bothering to say her last name. When she doesn't answer his head does snap up, betraying his earlier statement as he scans the crowd, bushy eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Maren?" He calls again.
"Over here!" Her voice comes far from the right and everyone looks to see her jogging up over the hill. I hear a chorus of disappointed sighs from a group of girls, probably hoping she wouldn't show up so they could get the best time. Coach is the complete opposite, actually letting out a relieved smile at the sight.
"Sorry sir, got held up." She explains shortly, joining the group without bothering to put down her bag.
"That's alright. Just try to be faster next time." Is all he says before going back to calling out more names. Anyone else would have gotten a reprimand for being late, but not the star runner.
She nods, standing in her spot at the edge of the group. I notice she was smart enough to wear a different pair of sneakers through the field, lest her running sneakers be soaked through like mine. She doesn't move to put on her other sneakers though, it would be considered disrespectful since coach is still talking. Their mutual respect is half the reason for her favouritism, the other half being her running times.
She hasn't noticed me, standing a few people over and staring straight ahead. Her dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and her usual outfit of jeans and t-shirts has been replaced with black cropped leggings that cling to her figure and a loose fitting tank top. Her gaze is unwavering, her eyes almost the same colour as the fog, but somehow more vibrant. Her hair shines from the dampness in the air and small strands that came loose from the ponytail hang around her face. Shockingly beautiful as always.
I feel an elbow nudge my side and look to Joseph confused. He jerks his chin to coach Powell and I realize he said my name.
"Here!" I shout, hopefully not too long after. I feel heat rise to my face at just being caught staring for the second time this year. It seems I need to work on my watching skills. My eyes widen at how creepy the thought sounded and I shake my head at my own stupidity.
Still, I can't help but take another glance at Maren, as embarrassing as it could turn out to be if I'm caught again. When I turn my gaze in her direction, I'm more than a little shocked to see her already looking at me. She arches a dark eyebrow at me, a smile hinting at her lips in an amused expression. With embarrassment, I realize she just saw my whole thought process and I quickly look away to hide the blush on my cheeks. Hopefully the fog obscures her view.
I feel somebody come up next to me and turn my head to be met with Stanley, breathing hard from probably just sprinting up here. Luckily, he's blocking off my view of Maren so I don't have to worry about being subjected to further humiliation.
"You're late, Worthington." Coach Powell says, shaking his head. He doesn't even look up, flipping a page on his clipboard as Stanley attempts to make an excuse.
"Yeah I-"
"I don't want an explanation. This is your first warning." Coach interrupts coldly. Him and Stanley don't really get along even though Stanley is always the top runner. Stanley is a little too cocky for his liking, and doesn't really treat coach with enough respect for it to be reciprocated.
Stanley just shrugs, long used to the attitude from our coach, and stands with the rest of us waiting for him to finish attendance. Finally he calls the last name and tells us that we have two minutes to get warmed up. Joe and I head over to the track to do some stretches while Stanley, Maren, and a couple others make their way to the benches to put on their gear.
"Coach really hates Stanley, doesn't he?" Joseph says, pulling his arm across his chest and holding it there.
"Yeah, I can see his reasoning though." I reply. Joseph nods understandingly, then looks towards the bench, a smirk forming on his face.
"Looks like he's not the only one." He laughs. I turn to see Stanley sitting next to Maren in the bench and can't suppress an eye roll. He always has to annoy people.
Stanley says something to her with a smirk, causing her glare to harden as she finishes tying her shoes. She stands abruptly and snaps something at him, which only makes him laugh. I don't really understand the rivalry between them, it's confusing to say the least.
"God, she's frightening." Joseph shakes his head and stretches the other arm.
"Yeah, she's definitely..." I struggle with a word to describe her, nothing quite seeming right. Finally I finish with, "something else." I don't know if that statement really makes any sense at all, but Joseph nods, seeming to understand.
Our coach comes out of the hut and blows his whistle, resulting in the team crowding around him once more.
"Listen up!" He shouts, a couple murmurs stop immediately. "The boys are up first, I'll call everyone is alphabetical order."
He calls a name that I don't pay attention to, I don't have to worry about running for a while yet as my last name is close to the end. A tall guy that I vaguely recognize from around school steps up to the running lines to get ready. I leave Joseph and Stanley at the starting mark, not really worried about other people's times. I just need to focus on my running.
It seems I'm not the only one who has this idea. Maren stands off to the side as well, her arms folded and a scowl still on her face, most likely from her earlier confrontation with Stanley. When she notices me coming over, I can see her make a conscious effort to look a little friendlier, but it hardly helps. A smile appears on my face anyway, a weird feeling settling in my stomach as I walk over to her.
"Hey." She says without looking at me. Her stormy eyes are focused on something behind me. She's scowling though, must be Stanley.
"Hi, sorry about him by the way. He has a thing for getting under people's skin." I shrug and join her at her side, looking out at the track also. The first runner still hasn't started so I know it'll be a bit before I start.
"Really? I haven't noticed." Maren knows who I'm talking about immediately and shakes her head with disgust. As we're looking, Stanley has the nerve to wave at her from his place on the side of the track. "Someone needs to tell lord dipshit over there that he's not funny." She says through her teeth.
I try to stifle a laugh but it doesn't work. Maren gives me a confused look. "Lord dipshit?" I question, chuckling at the name.
She shrugs nonchalantly but I don't miss the hint of a smile on her face. "I'd like to see you come up with something better to describe..." she waves a hand in his general direction, "it."
"I think the simple term 'asshole' would have done just fine." I reply, not feeling that bad for insulting Stanley behind his back. I would probably say the same thing if he were here anyway.
An amused smile spreads over Maren's face, making me smile too, as if it's infectious. She shakes her head and when she replies the grin is toned down. "Whatever." She says. "It's all accurate anyway."
I hear someone yell "Go" and the first guy starts running. To tryout, you only have to run 100 meters, then they pick ten people to make the team. Only about half actually participate in competitions, the others just come to practices to train as alternates or something. The runner crosses the finish line and Coach Powell clicks his stop watch and writes his time on a clipboard. We only get to see our times at the end.
"Fourteen seconds." Maren states. I look at her. "That's how long he took. He won't make the team." She shakes her head, looking indifferent.
"Dream crusher." I tease.
She laughs a little and rolls her eyes. I feel a drop of water hit my cheek and immediately reach up a hand to wipe it off. I've gotten used to the constant drizzle but it's a little shocking to get hit with a bigger volume of the ice cold liquid. Another drop hits my arm, then another on my face again. It doesn't take long for the single drips to turn into a steady pour of rain, I can already feel it starting to coat my skin and seep through my clothes. I know tryouts won't be called off because of the weather though.
"Ugh." I grumble, putting a hand above my head in a futile attempt to keep the rain off me. But rain is far too common here and I know it won't work. Maren just smirks at my attempts, shaking her head and letting the rain hit her.
"Baby." She teases.
I wrinkle my nose at her but put down my hand anyway, shaking off the rain that's collected there. "Right, I forgot that everybody likes to get soaked in freezing temperatures." I say sarcastically.
She snorts. "It's ten degrees above freezing, actually." She retorts.
"Ten degrees is still cold." I say, speaking in the same playful tone she used with me. "Actually."
She rolls her eyes and my heart speeds up as she grins. I latch onto the last logical thought in my head before I can get too lost. "Come on, you can't tell me that you're enjoying this." I say, gesturing around at the rain falling around us.
"I think it's nice." She says stubbornly.
"Then I think you're still drunk from Friday."
The small smile that was still on her face turns into a scowl and I grin at her quick change of attitude. Of course, every expression looks great on her, but at least I can think clearly when her grin isn't taking my breath away. I think I blush at how cheesy my thought sounded. If Stanley knew what I was thinking he would punch me so hard.
"I didn't even drink that much." She crosses her arms and angles her face up to the rain, blatantly lying to me.
"I seem to recall that you passed out in the car."
"Well I don't remember that."
"You probably don't remember a lot."
I laugh as Maren rolls her eyes. Despite her attitude, I can't help but notice the light shade of pink now coating her cheeks. I realize that she prides herself on always being confident and in control, she wouldn't have wanted me to see her without her witty remarks and cool attitude. It didn't matter to me, I actually like her more after that. It made me see her in a different light, like she's less intimidating and more natural.
"What?" She asks when she sees me looking. Despite this now being the third time my staring has been noticed by her, I don't feel my face heat up like it usually would. Instead I just shake my head.
"Oh, you just looked tired." I reply lightly, gaining confidence now that I've seen I'm not the only one that can get embarrassed between the two of us. "You can rest on my shoulder if you want. You did give it a four star rating after all." I continue, edging her on further.
"Oh shut up." She mutters, probably half-joking. I hope anyway.
"Seriously, what happened in the morning. Did you throw up? I bet you threw up." I ask, a smirk still on my face. I bet I look a lot like Stanley right now. I nearly wince at the thought.
"Yes, John. I threw up." Maren replies, sounding a little irritated. Though I know if she was really mad she wouldn't hesitate to snap at me, so I must not be too annoying. Good.
"I knew it."
"Congratulations." She says flatly. "Should we get you a medal or do you want a party?" She raises a dark eyebrow at me.
"I would say a party, but we'd have to keep you away from the alcohol." I reply, pretending to seriously consider my options. "Could a trophy be an option?"
Maren cracks a smile and I grin, relieved her annoyance was short lived. "Well aren't you quite the smart ass today."
"It seems the tables have turned." I shake my head in mock astonishment. "Wow."
I turn to her, feigning disbelief. She looks back at me, her arms crossed and a small smile on her face, slowly inching into proper grin as she catches my eye. I try not to get lost in hers. Her hair is now soaked and loose strands cling to her face perfectly. She's flawless without trying.
My staring is thankfully interrupted when a drop of rain hits me right in the eye. I cry out and my hand shoots up to my eye, immediately starting to rub the water out. When I recover I open my eyes to see Maren laughing at me. I try to glare at her but my vision is still blurry in my left eye and I can't completely focus. I'm not sure I'd be able to keep the grin off my face anyway.
"That was funny." She says.
"Glad you were amused." I reply dryly. She laughs again at my attitude and I can't keep the smile off my face.
Something else catches my eye though, another droplet forming on some hair that has been weighed down by water and sits just above my left eye. I shake my head violently to get the water out of my hair, which I'm sure looks terrible by now anyway.
I shake my head one last time to get some hair out of my eyes, then turn to Maren. "How do I look?" I ask, knowing fully about the mess that's probably sprawled all across my head. I really need to get it cut.
"You look like a wet dog." She replies. I laugh and make an attempt to fix it but judging by the look she sends me, it doesn't work in the slightest.
"A handsome wet dog though, right?" I say, a teasing smile on my face.
"Hmm..." She tilts her head to the side jokingly, sizing me up. After a moment, a small smile comes onto her face and she nods. "Definitely."
Even knowing it was a joke, my heart still leaps and a stupid grin spreads across my face. "Really?" I ask a little too excitedly
She chuckles. "Calm down. I think you're overestimating the good-looking features of a wet dog."
I feel my face heat up at getting so excited and I pretend to try and fix my hair again to hide my blush. It's really quite amazing how many times I manage to make a fool of myself in front of her, I hope she's not keeping track. It seems so stupid that such a simple comment can make make my heart soar, but I can't stop it. A reasonable part of me tries to tell me that I've only known her for a few weeks and I shouldn't be feeling this way. Oh well, I'm about past reason now anyway.
"John?" My head snaps back to Maren. She stands there with an expectant look on her face.
"Yeah? Did you say something?"
She shakes her head and points to the track with an amused smile. "You're up."
"Oh." In our conversation I almost forgot we were here, standing out in the rain with dozens of other people. Funny how easy it is to just block everything else out. I need to work on that.
I smile sheepishly at Maren and rush up to the track where Coach Powell is eyeing me with a hard look. I swallow nervously and take my spot on the track, looking over at Maren one last time. She nods. I guess that's as encouraging as she'll get. Good enough for me.
I focus on the track, the pouring rain splashing off the surface in a constant downpour. I block everything out and stare in front of me until the burgundy track is all I can see. It looks almost tranquil with the collected water.
I hear the whistle, then I'm running. I can feel myself gaining my full speed a little ways down, my legs and arms pumping as fast as my body will allow. Drops of rain sting my face and I squint my eyes to keep from being blinded by it. I cross the finish line and run off my momentum, quickly turning around and jogging back to coach as he writes down my time. I search his face for any clues as to how I might have done, but his expression betrays nothing.
"Great job man! You definitely beat your time last year." Joseph claps me on the back and I grin at him.
"Thanks. You did really good too." I reply. I didn't even pay attention to his run, but I know he already went because it's in alphabetical order. I must sound convincing because he grins.
"Yeah, that was a good run." Stanley grabs my shoulder and shakes it. I smile and feel obligated to stand at the edge of the track as Stanley does his tryout next.
Of course he does the hundred meters in a flash, leaving some other guys shaking their heads. He comes back with a cocky grin and Joe and I congratulate him on his run. They start talking about something and I manage to get away without being noticed. I find Maren standing closer to the track then before, probably because she will be up soon.
"So, think I'll make the team?" I ask her.
She doesn't hesitate before nodding. Her smile makes my mouth go dry. "Definitely."
Maren
Rain hits off me relentlessly as I anxiously wait for coach to post our tryout times on the window of the track hut. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, watching him from beside the bench as he looks over the times, figuring out who will make the team. I know that I definitely got in the top five, but I don't know if I got the top spot yet. Some of the other girl's runs looked promising but it would be pretty good if I could get the best time for the third year in a row, especially since it's my last year here.
I shiver in the cold and bounce a little on my feet. I'm soaked to the bone right now and I have to constantly squint my eyes to keep the heavy drops of water from blinding me. I really don't mind the rain, it's just the cold that goes along with it that's bugging me, with the way it feels it might as well be snow falling instead of water. I suddenly wish I had taken Mom's advice and brought a raincoat instead of just packing a hoodie in my bag, a raincoat would do wonders for my constant shivering. I would never admit that to her though.
Coach Powell finally steps out from the hut and blows his whistle, signalling everyone to come over. I'm one of the first ones over there, along with John and his friend Joseph. John gives me a reassuring smile and I return the gesture. Usually I wouldn't but whatever, he's suffering just as much as me right now so I might as well put on a good face.
"Alright listen up!" Coach yells, although I don't think anyone was talking anyway. "Your times are posted here." He gestures to the window where a few pieces of paper are taped on the inside. "If your name is not circled, you didn't make the team. Although I encourage you to try again next year." With a nod, he leaves and everybody rushes forward to look for their name.
Since I'm up front, I'm one of the first to get to the list. I scan the list and quickly find my name, circled as expected. I look through the rest of the circled names- none of which I care to know -and smile when I find I have to best time. Well, for the girls tryouts anyway. 11:38.40.
"Great job, Maren." I look to my side to see John smiling at me, hair hanging in a wet mess over his forehead but his eyes are still bright.
I find myself grinning back at him, both from getting the top time and because he can still be cheerful even in this weather. "Thanks, you too." I reply even though I don't know his time yet.
I scan the list for his name and find it circled, the time next to it is 12:02.27. The moment is ruined when an unwelcome voice speaks up from the other side of me.
"Still couldn't beat me though, could you sweetheart?"
I don't even bother to look at Stanley's time. Of course he was faster then me, it's just logical. His legs are longer than mine, he is naturally more muscular, and his body is literally built to be physical. I feel familiar annoyance rush through me as I silently curse my body for its limits. Instead of getting worked up, I turn to meet Stanley's smug expression, filled with arrogance and superiority. I try to stay calm as I look him over, searching for weaknesses he doesn't have. I raise my eyebrows at him as he smirks.
"Your feet are huge." I stare up at him with a flat expression. "They are too big for your body, they look ridiculous and awkward and you have to live with it for the rest of your life because there is nothing you will ever be able to do about it."
He raises an amused eyebrow at me, but I didn't miss the way he glanced down at his feet when I finished my sentence. I struggle not to smirk at this small victory and turn on my heel, stalking away before he can respond. The rain is still beating down on me and I uselessly pull the hood up on my sweater to cover my head, even though I'm already soaked. I need to stop walking to text Mom to come and get me, but I'm pretty sure that would ruin the image of my triumphant retreat so I keep going. I'll just text her once I get in the school.
It doesn't take long until I here the sound of footsteps over the rain, running to catch up to me. I groan loudly but keep walking, desperate to escape Stanley and his attitude.
"Sorry, I didn't know I was such a bother." John chuckles. I breath out a relieved sigh and start to walk slower so he can catch up.
"Thought you were someone else." I explain shortly.
John laughs. "I didn't know Stanley changed his name to 'someone else'." He teases, grinning as he shakes more wet hair out of his eyes like he's been doing since it started raining.
"You know, I think it might be time to get it cut." I say, ignoring the comment about Stanley. I don't really want to involve him in the rivalry, especially when it's so stupid in the first place. I usually don't care what people think of me but it would definitely bug me if John came to the conclusion that I was dumb for carrying it on.
"Yeah." He admits, putting one hand up to straighten it out, though his attempts are useless. The state of his hair doesn't really matter though, he would probably still look good even if it was shaved off. Eventually he gives up trying to fix it and let's his hand fall. "So, how are you getting home?" He asks.
"My Mom is going to pick me up." I explain, then arch an eyebrow at him. "Why? Planning on following me?"
His eyes widen and his face turns red immediately. "No, I-of course not." He says quickly. I laugh as he scratches at the back of his neck, embarrassed. It's a little terrible of me really, but I've noticed that he's incredibly easy to embarrass and in all honesty, I find it quite amusing. He seems to realize I'm joking and narrows his eyes at me, but he's still a bit red at the cheeks.
"How rude, embarrassing me for your own personal amusement." He shakes his head.
"Sorry." I say, not really meaning it. "It's just so easy."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." He rolls his eyes but he's grinning now too as he shakes his head.
I find myself looking at him for longer than I probably should. His perfectly straight teeth, strong jaw, blue eyes that are almost always lit up with humour, and shiny blond hair that still looks good no matter what he does with it. I've heard other girls in my school describe his as 'dreamy', and even I have to admit that he is practically the definition. Although I have more respect for myself and him to use a word like 'dreamy'.
He notices me looking but thankfully I think he still believes I'm teasing him because he looks away right after. "No I wasn't going to follow you." He continues, his embarrassment behind him. "I was going to ask you if you needed a ride."
"Hmm..." I think about it for a second. Mom wouldn't have to come and get me, it would be pretty convenient, and he's actually not bad company. "Are you a good driver?"
He chuckles. "I would like to think so."
"Alright then, that would be good." I reply. He grins wide but tones it down after a few seconds, shaking his head. I stifle a laugh so I don't embarrass him anymore than I already have. "Thanks." I add afterwards, remembering that manners are a thing.
"Don't mention it." He points toward the parking lot. "The car is that way." He informs. I almost roll my eyes but manage to keep a straight face.
"Thanks for letting me know." I nod seriously. "I would have never guessed that anyone would ever park a car in a parking lot." I look at him, my face deadpan, and he laughs.
"Well thank god you have me here to tell you." He jokes, bringing a laugh out me.
We continue to walk through the rain to his car which I now know is somewhere in the smattering of vehicles still left in the parking lot. I wouldn't object to jogging to the car to escape the cold, but John seems content to walk at a normal pace so I follow. I don't mind the rain really anyway, but it would be nice for some warmth to go along with it.
I don't know which car is his until he gets his keys out and a honk sounds from a black sedan. I'm almost to the passenger side door when John suddenly darts in front of me, pools of water splashing around his sneakers as he rushes to open the door for me. He looks unsure, a sheepish smile on his rain covered face as he stands there, waiting for me to get in. Through my surprise, I manage to walk forward.
"What a gentleman." I smirk as I climb in, playing off my shock.
John laughs and closes the door as soon as I get in, running around the car as I put down my hood and try my best to tame the mess of hair on my head. I run my hands over my my soaked hair for a second when I stop myself, my actions startling me. Why do I suddenly care how I look? I quickly put the bag that contains my sneakers in my lap, glad I found something to do with my hands since I'm kind of at a loss.
John throws his bag in the back seat before jumping into the drivers side and sticking the keys into the ignition. He sits back and blows into his hands to warm them, rubbing them together roughly after. He looks over and notices the bag in my lap.
"Here, it can go in the back." He says, reaching over and taking it off my lap before I can answer. He reaches back and lays it on the rear seat, and I can't help but notice the way his wet shirt clings to his body. Why would I even notice that? I quickly look away when he sits back up. Stupid, I think to myself.
"Thanks." I say.
"No problem. You cold?" Again, before I can answer, he turns up the heat attempting to warm up the car. Instead cold air blows on me due to the vehicle only being started for ten whole seconds.
"That helped." I say sarcastically.
"Patience, Maren." He chides, putting the car in drive and propelling the car out of the space. "Where to?"
"It's only five minutes away, turn right." I instruct. He nods and gets us out of the parking lot and onto the main road, which is filled with potholes from years worth of rain.
"Only five minutes huh? Maybe I should have let you walk." He teases, shooting me another perfect grin.
"Funny." I reply flatly, then lean forward so I can take a better look at the radio as he drives. I go to turn it on but I don't really know how so I kind of just let my hand hover over all the buttons, trying to figure it all out. John senses my confusion and reaches over, pressing a button with a chuckle. "I would have figured it out eventually." I mutter as a song begins.
"Undoubtedly." He replies. I listen to the song for a couple of seconds and groan as I recognize the tune. "What? You don't like the song?" He asks with mock incredulity.
"It's not that I don't like it." I defend. "It's just so over-played, I think I've heard it a million times."
"That's because it's good!" John insists.
"Whatever." I lean forward to change the station but John playfully flicks my hand away. He tries to look offended but cracks a smile when I lean back in the leather seat with a groan. "What is this channel anyway? Old people FM?" I complain, although I'm unable to keep a smile off my face.
"It shouldn't matter what station it is." John laughs. "One does not simply change the song when Jessie's Girl is playing." He gives me a patronizing look before reaching forward and turning up the volume, bobbing his head with the beat of the song. I roll my eyes but for some reason I can't find it in me to be annoyed.
John starts to sing along when the chorus comes on, loudly, probably to annoy me more. His plan doesn't work though, the sight of his enthusiastic facial expressions and wide gestures is just purely comical and I can't help but laugh at the show he's putting on. The chorus finishes and he tries to keep singing but apparently he doesn't know the song as well as he led on, so he ends up mumbling most of the words, looking sheepish. After a second he resorts to humming the verse and avoiding my eyes.
"That's it?" I challenge. He shrugs and I laugh. "For someone who insisted we keep the song on, I would have thought you'd know more then ten words."
"Hey! I said it was a good song, I never said I knew the lyrics." John puts one hand up in surrender but keeps the other on the steering wheel, which is fortunate because the curvy road wouldn't have any problem throwing us off it if we weren't turning with it.
"But you have to admit, it is catchy." He says smugly, knowing I can't deny it.
"Yeah." I scoff. "The plague was catchy, doesn't mean it was good." I reply nonchalantly. John shakes his head and laughs. I struggle not to, instead looking out the window as I notice the familiar houses that lead to my suburb. I point ahead to the entrance of my subdivision. "Turn in there."
"How do you do that?" He asks.
"Turn? It's pretty simple-" I start sarcastically but he cuts me off with another chuckle, turning on the blinker.
"No. How do you just come up with something smart to say all the time?" He shakes his head again and turns into the subdivision, going slower now.
My eyebrows knit in confusion as I think about it. It doesn't really require much thought for me to come up with a sarcastic remark. Sometimes my smart mouth would be described as off-putting or rude, but thankfully John doesn't really seem to care, he might even find it amusing. I can conclude at once that this specific quality wasn't inherited from my mother, as she frequently loses arguments from not being able to make a return statement. I grudgingly admit to myself that it must come from my father. I usually try to dispute any quality in me that could be related to the man I never knew, more for the reason that I don't want to live with any of the crappy stuff that must be in his personality. Some things can't be disputed with a sarcastic comment though, as hard as I could try.
"I don't know, it just happens." I shrug, not letting John know about the internal argument that just went on in my head. "Left." I command, hoping to distract him from looking at me, concern easily read in his eyes. I might not be hiding my thoughts as well as I would like.
Still, despite his silent worry, he takes the turn. It's not long now until my house comes into view, although navigating through the subdivision takes almost as long as the first part of the ride.
"Well it's cool." John finally says, bringing me back to the conversation. "You're a cool person, Maren." He nods. I laugh, not sure what to make of the comment.
"Thanks for that. It's good to be reminded that my coolness factor is still up to standards." I reply, chuckling. John does too, glancing at me while he drives. There's a weird expression on his face, one that I can't place, but he turns back to the road before I can figure it out.
Knowing that I'll now be home in a few seconds, I reach into the back seat and locate my bag after a bit of feeling around, pulling it up with me.
"Are we close now?" John asks.
"Yup, the white one." I nod in the direction of my house, mom's car still in the driveway thanks to my lovely chauffeur.
He pulls into the driveway and I put my hood up again even though it's already wet and will hardly help keep the rain off. "Well, thanks for the ride. And the concert." I joke, opening the door. "Rick Springfield has got nothing on you."
John laughs. "Anytime." He replies. "See you tomorrow." I grin, suddenly not dreading math tomorrow, which is weird because the subject is basically the bane of my existence.
The force of the rain hits me anew as I step out of the car and I'm drenched again in a matter of seconds, not that it matters much at this point anyway. I quickly run up to the door and try to open it only to find it locked. Crap.
I pound on the door, then ring the doorbell excessively until the door is finally unlocked. I wave to John in thanks and head inside, grateful to be in the warm house.
"Who brought you home?" Mom asks, and I now realize she's standing over by the window watching John back out of the driveway. She has her hands on her hips and is blatantly eyeing the car. The sight looks pretty suspicious.
"Stop being a creep, Mom." I reply, kicking off my rain filled sneakers and putting them on the mat to dry. Mom laughs but quickly gets out of the window anyway.
"It's not creepy to want to know who brought my daughter home." She reasons, walking over and pulling my hood down. "God, you're soaked!" She exclaims, squeezing some water out of my hair.
"Rain tends to do that." I say. She wrinkles her nose at me, making me laugh.
"Who brought you home?" She asks again.
"A friend."
"That wasn't Marina or Riley."
I roll my eyes. "I have other friends, Mom."
"None that I've heard of." She retorts. I have to admit, she makes a good point. I shrug and walk into the kitchen to sit down on one of the wooden chairs, knowing better then to bring my wet self over to sit on the couch. "Who was it?" Mom asks for the third time.
"Well his name is John." I say, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge before I sit down. I'm not even tired at all since I only had to run 100 meters, but I guess it can never hurt to hydrate and all that crap.
Mom raises an eyebrow, now starting to come in the room as well. "John who?"
"John Smith."
"Hmm, sounds interesting." She drawls, which is ironic since 'John Smith' is literally the most generic name ever. Mom taps her chin. "How long have you known him?" She asks. I sigh, agitated by all the questions. Mom notices and a smile appears on her face at my annoyance.
"Since the beginning of the year." I say, taking a drink from the bottle of water. She nods slowly. I think I know where this is going.
"He's... attractive." She says, hauling out a seat on the other side of the table and lodging her head on her hand. I almost laugh. It almost sounds like she wants to take him for herself.
I raise my eyebrows at her. "Isn't he a little young for you, Mom?" I tease.
"Ugh, Maren." She groans, but she's smiling. I grin at her and she rolls her eyes, stealing my water and taking a sip.
"Look Mom, if you want to date someone in my grade, go ahead. I won't judge." I say shrugging. She stops drinking to glare at me, her mouth full of water. I just smirk and take the water back out of her hand.
"Why do I even try with you?" She sighs dramatically, giving up at this attempt of girl talk. "So, I assume you got the fastest time?" She asks, knowing I won't object to that topic of conversation.
"I may have." I answer, trying but failing to tone down a smug grin. Mom is smiling too and when she sees my proud expression she breaks into a laugh.
"So, captain of the hockey team, top runner... anything else to add to the list?" She teases, but the smile on her face is filled with pride.
"Not yet." I reply. I lean back in the slightly uncomfortable chair, pressing my soaked sweater into the back of the seat. I should probably take it off.
Mom walks around to my side of the table and leans down to put an arm around my shoulders. "Great job kid." She kisses the top of my head then goes the cupboard, pulling out a pot to start supper.
I stand up and push my chair in, holding out my arms to Mom. "Thanks but I think I need a full hug." I gesture for her to come over but she shakes her head at once, laughing at the idea and eyeing my drenched clothes.
"You're getting nothing until you change your clothes."
Thanks for reading! I did Maren's POV along with John's because I kind of wanted to show how she feels about the whole thing. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and please leave a review :)