- Beyond My Hopes-
A Pokemon Fanfiction by Kayley Laskitt (savetheempire@optusnet.com.au)
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon. I understand this comes as quite a shock as I am not in the entertainment industry, not residing in Japan and haven't even finished high school yet.
Author's Notes: This is not my first fanfic, though it is the first Pokemon fanfic I've posted. I don't take well to flames, and I don't want to hear any bitching from anyone who isn't an egoshipper. Both the summary and this note warns you. If you don't like it, don't read it.
In this fanfic, you should probably pretend that Pallet is not a nowheresville town. The characters are also older, though that should be fairly obvious.
Comments and constructive criticism welcome.
**
Chapter Two: Starbeams In The Night
I watch Gary drive off, an inexplicable smile on my lips. I put my key into the door and I'm just about to turn it when the door swings open. I jump back, hand over my heart.
"God, Mrs. Ketchum!" I gasp, trying to stop the slight adrenaline rush pulsing through my veins. "You scared the hell out of me!"
"Sorry, Misty," she apologizes, stepping aside so I can come in. "I just heard you outside and thought I'd save you the trouble of unlocking the door." She closes the door behinds me, and glances at the silver watch around her slender wrist. "You're home late," she comments, not as a criticism.
I don't bother looking at my watch to verify that - you don't drive to Cerulean City and back again and not get home a little late. "Yeah," I agree. "I hope you weren't waiting up or anything."
"Oh, no," she assures me, waving a dismissive hand. "It's just that Ash came home quite awhile ago - I was curious as to where you were."
I wince slightly, and Delia doesn't miss it. She smiles knowingly.
"The let's-stay-friends thing didn't quite go to plan?" she asks, not really as a question. She knows the answer as well as I do.
I smile ironically. "I guess we need to work on that." I glance at the stairs. "Is Ash still up? I kind of need to talk to him."
Delia moves into the kitchen, and I follow her. "I think I heard him fall over before, so I'm pretty sure he's still awake," she says.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. It's kind of comforting to know some things - like Ash's perpetual clumsiness - never change.
Delia pours hot water from a kettle that's clearly just boiled into a blue mug. "Do you want a drink?" she offers. I shake my head, and Delia stirs her own drink. "So what did you do for the rest of the night?" she asks casually.
"Just hung out," I respond, equally casual.
Delia turns to face me. "With Gary?" she asks, straight-to-the-point, still maintaining that casualness. I gape at her, and she smiles a little. "Well, that was his car outside, wasn't it?"
I lean back against the wall, and shake my head, equal parts amused and impressed. "You don't miss a trick, do you?"
Delia laughs. "Not if I can help it!" Her laughter dies and she eyes me. "That's what you want to talk to Ash about, isn't it?"
No point in denying, I suppose.
"Amongst other things." Delia looks doubtful, and I sigh. "Gary asked me out for tomorrow night, and I said yes." I wait for a gasp, or a sign that's she's passing judgement, but she merely nods. I cock my head, and lift an eyebrow. "How do you think Ash'll take it?"
Delia smiles enigmatically, picks up her mug and pats my shoulder. "Good luck." She disappears at that, towards her bedroom and I run my hand through my hair.
Time to face the music, I guess.
I trudge upstairs and knock lightly on Ash's bedroom door. I push it open and poke my head through the doorway. Ash is sitting on his bed, watching TV. Or pretending to while channel-surfing aimlessly. Whatever. He looks like he's got something serious going on that head of his for once.
"Hey," I say quietly.
Ash looks at me, and mutes the TV. "Hey," he responds.
I push the door open fully and cross the carpet to his desk chair. I sit down and turn the chair so I can face Ash. "Guess that let's-be-friends thing didn't work too well, huh?" I ask, keeping my voice free of any negativity.
Ash cracks a grin. "Looks that way."
I roll a hair tie off my wrist and pull my hair into a messy ponytail. "To be honest, I hardly even remember what we were fighting about," I tell him seriously. "But I know whatever it was, it had to be two-sided. So I'm sorry for anything I said."
Ash nods, takes this in. "Yeah. Me too."
I smile softly and lean back in the chair. "So, what? Fresh start number two?"
Ash chuckles and looks down at his lap, tracing abstract patterns on the leg of his jeans. "We'll get it right eventually, I guess."
We fall silent and remain that way for a couple of seconds.
"I need to talk to you," I blurt out at the exact same time Ash says, with forced lightness, "Guess who I ran into?"
We laugh awkwardly. "You go first," I offer, procrastinating like crazy.
Ash shrugs. "Oh, I was just going to say I ran into May - you know, Gary's sister?" I nod, and he continues. "Yeah, she was out with Gary and they got into a fight." He laughs. "Must be the night for it, huh? Anyway, I hung out with her for awhile. She was telling me about the fight she and Gary had." Ash shook his head. "God, he's such a jerk to her sometimes, you know?"
I grip the edge of my chair and smile weakly. "Ash, I've got to ask," I begin, trying to sound casual. "Do you think there's a chance you and Gary could ever be friends again?"
Ash ponders this question. "There's a chance." My heart soars. He grins. "It's slim to none, but there's a chance."
Shattered.
"So what did you have to tell me?" he asks.
I stand up and back towards the door. "You know, I completely forgot," I babble, walking backwards which was never my talent. "And look how late it is. I better get to bed."
I practically bolt out of there and don't stop till I'm in my room, the door closed.
Stupid, Misty. Really universally stupid.
I should have told Ash then. I should have. Because regardless of when he finds out - and I'm sure he will - he's going to be mad I didn't tell him from day one and there'll be a whole mistrust thing. It's not like I can run in there now and act is if I just remembered.
Looks like fresh start number three will be in the works before long.
"Stupid, Misty," I mutter, flopping stomach down onto my bed. "Really stupid."
I check my watch. 7:01. Do you think I'm possibly a little early to achieve that fashionably late thing I usually strive for.
It's not an eagerness complex. I swear.
I raise my arm to knock on the Ketchum's door and it's flung open before I even make contact. Misty slips through the door, grabs my arm and drags me to the car.
She looks beautiful, in a calf-length silvery-blue sundress and black sandals, a black cardigan draped over her shoulders. But I get the feeling the pink hue to her cheeks has nothing to do with a meticulous make-up job.
"Nice to see you, too, Misty," I say, trying to resist her whirlwind pull. For such a slender, delicate thing, she sure has a Schwarzennegar grip.
"Right back at ya," she says unceremoniously, succeeding in dragging me down the driveway and out to the street.
I plant my feet firmly on the stubby grass on the nature strip and she stops and turns to look at me. I smirk. "You didn't tell Ash, did you?"
She picks her way across the grass to my car, clearly stalling. "Tell is such a subjective term," she hedges, angling her head in an attempt to look thoughtful. "I mean . . . " She stops suddenly and sighs. "No. No, I didn't."
I unlock the car and open the passenger door for Misty, who slides in. I don't close the door, and instead stand there and stare at her.
"What?" she asks, sounding irritated.
I heave a woeful sigh and walk around the car. I get in, and cast Misty another look.
"Don't look at me like that," she snaps, slumping in her seat. "It was a lot harder than it sounded."
I start the ignition and pull onto the road. "How do you know?" I ask reasonably. "You didn't actually do it." Before she can let loose at me, as I'm sure she will, I continue. "Look, Misty, I'd really like you to tell Ash. No, I really want you to tell him," I say calmly as we turn out of Ash's street.
I catch her making a face out of the corner of my eye, which is kind of amusing. It's so strange to see this beautiful, graceful girl making faces at me like a spoiled six-year-old.
"Why?" she questions. "So you can watch him disown me for life?"
I shake my head almost imperceptibly and turn right. "No," I say, pausing to make sure I have her full attention. "Because Ash is important to you. And I don't think I can be important to you if you don't tell him."
I turn my head just in time to see all sarcasm drain from her face. For a moment, that mask she always wears falls, and I glimpse pure, unshielded Misty.
"I wanted to tell him," she tells me quietly, playing with the silver bracelet that circles her slender wrist. I remember Brock giving it to her on her birthday.
She reminds of the way May gets when she turns on the manipulation mode - all remorseful and puppy-eyed. Only with Misty it's real.
I come to a stop at a red light behind a four-wheel drive and take the opportunity to look at Misty. She's still looking down, which doesn't make it easy. I reach out and gently lift her chin, forcing her to look up. "So why didn't you?"
She laughs mirthlessly and smoothes an imaginary wrinkle from the skirt of her dress. "He'd just gotten done with telling me there's a slim to none chance of him ever being friends with you again," she says. "It didn't strike me as the best time."
The way she's keeping her voice tone-free tells me that she hates this. That the fact that Ash and I don't get along really tears into her.
The four-wheel drive ahead of me moves forward, and I follow, interrupting a chance to probe Misty any further about her feelings.
"I understand that's hard," I say carefully, diplomatically. "And I do want you to tell him. But I'll let you do that. I'll try not to push you."
Misty rewards me with a grateful, brilliant smile. A brief silence follows, which Misty quickly fills with a new line of conversation. "So where are we going?" she asks, leaning forward slightly as though that'll make it easier for her to see where we're headed. "Are you going to haul me to Viridian City for a cup of coffee?"
I feign astonishment. "However did you guess?" I ask, trying on a mock Southern accent.
Misty giggles and falls back in her seat. "You never fail to amaze me," she tells me. "You are an absolute geek."
"Gee whiz," I respond, sarcastically. "That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day. Has anyone ever told you that you're absolutely charming?"
She smirks. "All the time."
Did you ever have a moment where you just can't wipe the smile off your face if you tried? And not the kind of smile where you're holding back laughter because some dumbass just fell flat on their face or something. I mean genuine smiling, where you're just really, really happy?
I'm doing that now.
I'm so happy I just want to bottle it or something. I'm so happy I'm coming up with cheesy ideas like bottling happiness.
I can't remember the last time I had such a good time. I can't remember the last time I felt so . . . I don't know, happy. Free.
Okay, that's a lie. I do remember. It was sometime before Ash and I broke up.
Gary's so different to Ash though, that they could be a scientific study in contrasts. For such an egotistical guy, he prides himself on chivalry. I don't think Ash would know chivalry if it - or I - smacked him in the face.
Maybe it's part of the ego thing, though. Maybe it's the whole airs-and-graces thing. I think more than anything it's probably his upbringing. You don't grow up to be a member of the most prestigious family in a small town and not possess level of inherent pretension.
Still, no one could accuse Ash of being modest. I think that's why Gary and Ash clash the way they do. They're both fairly egotistical, but in such different ways. I think that Ash is so vocal in his belief in himself because he wants to be that person. Gary acts like he's better than everyone else is because he actually believes it.
But cut past that egotistic layer, and there's a guy under there who is considerate, intelligent, sweet and witty.
I guess that's why I don't want to go home yet.
"I want a girl who uses a machete to cut through red tape," Gary recites clearly, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.
I roll my eyes. "Puh-lease," I respond, making sure I sound sufficiently disdainful. "That's baby stuff. Short Skirt/Long Jacket by Cake."
Gary's eyes narrow and he glances at me. "Not bad," he admits grudgingly, peering through his windscreen at the still traffic. "Your turn."
I consider this thoughtfully, toying with the sleeve of my black cardigan, which is lying on my lap. "Okay," I say finally. "If you see my girlfriend cry, just keep walking, pass her by." I throw him the bitchiest look I can muster. "Want to give up?"
He looks worried for a minute, and for that brief minute there's hope that I've won the game. Then that uncertainty drops to reveal pure smugness. "Who Sold Her Out by Eskimo Joe," he says dramatically. He mimes hitting a drum kit. "Ba-doom ching!"
I sigh, fold my arms. "Fine. Your turn."
Gary considers this seriously as he follows behind the yellow Lexus ahead of us. He takes his hands of the steering wheel to rub them together eagerly. "Oh, okay." He clears his throat. "Must have picked the stars out of the sky and left them in your eyes."
I, the reigning queen of Name The Song Or Get A Punch In The Arm (a game which pretty much illustrates just how bored Brock and I used to get) am stumped. I know the line - I swear I do. I just can't seem to place it.
"Misty is stumped!" Gary sings childishly, taking a right.
"I am not!" I retort, equally childish. "I know it. I swear."
Gary snorts. "Right," he responds, drawing out the word so it sounds like it's made up of two syllables instead of two.
I scowl. "Shut up. I'm thinking." I drum my fingers slightly on the dash. "Must have picked the stars out of the sky and left them in your eyes," I mutter, running the words through my head.
Gary sighs. "Come on!" he says impatiently. "Let me punch you already!"
I look at him levelly. "Girl hitter," I say petulantly. Then I turn my head pointedly. "Must have picked the stars out of the sky . . . "
I hear Gary laugh a little.
"Ah ha!" I cry, as something triggers in my head. "Must have picked the stars out of the sky and left them in your eyes," I sing, trying to get to the chorus. It's pop, I can tell that much, so chances are they repeat the title thirty times in the chorus. "Boy, I'm thinking bout you every day and every night," I continue. I hum the rest of the verse, trying to get to the chorus and ignore the amused looks Gary is shooting my way. I look at him, making sure I look smug as I sing the chorus. "It's the way you that you make me crazy, feels so right that it's you now baby. And you got it all going on, with all the little things that will make me crazy. Just the way you make me feel, feel so alive for the first time baby. When you make me crazy, you got me baby."
Gary grins. "That was beautiful, Misty, but this isn't the Sing The Chorus game. This is the Name The Song game."
I manage to resist sticking my tongue out at him and flutter my lashes demurely. "Make Me Crazy by Scandal'Us," I tell him victoriously. I hit his arm slightly. "And shame on you for trying to trick me with a pop song."
Gary chuckles and lifts his broad shoulders. "Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying."
I laugh despite myself and shake my head. I look out the window and blink. "You better stop."
Gary glances at me. "That's all you're gonna give me?"
My brow furrows, then I laugh. "No, I mean that. You just drove past Ash's house."
Gary stares at me, then looks out the windscreen. He sees that I'm right, slaps his forehead, curses under his breath and reverses back down the street, pulling to a stop out the front of Ash's house.
"Wow," Gary says, allowing his hands to fall from the steering wheel to his lap. "Can't believe we're back here already. It's been like what? An hour? Two?"
"Five," I inform him, my lips upturned in a small smile.
He checks his watch then pushes a hand through his thick hair. "Whoa. Time flies."
I laugh a little, aware that my cheeks are flushed and pull my thin black cardigan over my arms. "I had fun. Really," I say, not out of politeness, but out of honesty.
"Yeah," Gary agrees, but his voice is a little lower, a little huskier than before. "I'm glad. I had a really good time too."
Damn, his voice is melt-worthy. Why did I never notice that?
We remain silent for a few seconds, and I break the silence. I hate silence. "Just in case you were wondering," I begin, drawing the words out, watching him for a reaction - any reaction. "I never kiss on the first date."
Gary takes this in and nods slowly, understandingly. "Oh, sure. That's understandable."
I nod mutely in agreement, trying to pretend that I'm not a little miffed that he's not arguing the point with me.
I watch as a small, hard to read smirk curves Gary's lips. "Of course," he drawls, looking thoughtful. "If we're going to take 'date' as meaning going somewhere together for the purpose of entertainment, then we could say last night was a date, and considering that we've never done anything else together, last night would have been our first date, so tonight would be -"
Gary doesn't get to finish his sentence though, because I lean forward and gently touch my lips to his. He remains still for a second, clearly surprised, but recovers quickly and kisses me back. His kiss is gentle, sweet and leaves me wanting more.
I pull away, smile slightly then open the door. "Good night," I say softly.
I'm already out of the car and about to shut the door behind me before Gary recovers enough from the shock to respond.
"Yeah, sure," he says, just as quietly. "Good night."
A Pokemon Fanfiction by Kayley Laskitt (savetheempire@optusnet.com.au)
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon. I understand this comes as quite a shock as I am not in the entertainment industry, not residing in Japan and haven't even finished high school yet.
Author's Notes: This is not my first fanfic, though it is the first Pokemon fanfic I've posted. I don't take well to flames, and I don't want to hear any bitching from anyone who isn't an egoshipper. Both the summary and this note warns you. If you don't like it, don't read it.
In this fanfic, you should probably pretend that Pallet is not a nowheresville town. The characters are also older, though that should be fairly obvious.
Comments and constructive criticism welcome.
**
Chapter Two: Starbeams In The Night
I watch Gary drive off, an inexplicable smile on my lips. I put my key into the door and I'm just about to turn it when the door swings open. I jump back, hand over my heart.
"God, Mrs. Ketchum!" I gasp, trying to stop the slight adrenaline rush pulsing through my veins. "You scared the hell out of me!"
"Sorry, Misty," she apologizes, stepping aside so I can come in. "I just heard you outside and thought I'd save you the trouble of unlocking the door." She closes the door behinds me, and glances at the silver watch around her slender wrist. "You're home late," she comments, not as a criticism.
I don't bother looking at my watch to verify that - you don't drive to Cerulean City and back again and not get home a little late. "Yeah," I agree. "I hope you weren't waiting up or anything."
"Oh, no," she assures me, waving a dismissive hand. "It's just that Ash came home quite awhile ago - I was curious as to where you were."
I wince slightly, and Delia doesn't miss it. She smiles knowingly.
"The let's-stay-friends thing didn't quite go to plan?" she asks, not really as a question. She knows the answer as well as I do.
I smile ironically. "I guess we need to work on that." I glance at the stairs. "Is Ash still up? I kind of need to talk to him."
Delia moves into the kitchen, and I follow her. "I think I heard him fall over before, so I'm pretty sure he's still awake," she says.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. It's kind of comforting to know some things - like Ash's perpetual clumsiness - never change.
Delia pours hot water from a kettle that's clearly just boiled into a blue mug. "Do you want a drink?" she offers. I shake my head, and Delia stirs her own drink. "So what did you do for the rest of the night?" she asks casually.
"Just hung out," I respond, equally casual.
Delia turns to face me. "With Gary?" she asks, straight-to-the-point, still maintaining that casualness. I gape at her, and she smiles a little. "Well, that was his car outside, wasn't it?"
I lean back against the wall, and shake my head, equal parts amused and impressed. "You don't miss a trick, do you?"
Delia laughs. "Not if I can help it!" Her laughter dies and she eyes me. "That's what you want to talk to Ash about, isn't it?"
No point in denying, I suppose.
"Amongst other things." Delia looks doubtful, and I sigh. "Gary asked me out for tomorrow night, and I said yes." I wait for a gasp, or a sign that's she's passing judgement, but she merely nods. I cock my head, and lift an eyebrow. "How do you think Ash'll take it?"
Delia smiles enigmatically, picks up her mug and pats my shoulder. "Good luck." She disappears at that, towards her bedroom and I run my hand through my hair.
Time to face the music, I guess.
I trudge upstairs and knock lightly on Ash's bedroom door. I push it open and poke my head through the doorway. Ash is sitting on his bed, watching TV. Or pretending to while channel-surfing aimlessly. Whatever. He looks like he's got something serious going on that head of his for once.
"Hey," I say quietly.
Ash looks at me, and mutes the TV. "Hey," he responds.
I push the door open fully and cross the carpet to his desk chair. I sit down and turn the chair so I can face Ash. "Guess that let's-be-friends thing didn't work too well, huh?" I ask, keeping my voice free of any negativity.
Ash cracks a grin. "Looks that way."
I roll a hair tie off my wrist and pull my hair into a messy ponytail. "To be honest, I hardly even remember what we were fighting about," I tell him seriously. "But I know whatever it was, it had to be two-sided. So I'm sorry for anything I said."
Ash nods, takes this in. "Yeah. Me too."
I smile softly and lean back in the chair. "So, what? Fresh start number two?"
Ash chuckles and looks down at his lap, tracing abstract patterns on the leg of his jeans. "We'll get it right eventually, I guess."
We fall silent and remain that way for a couple of seconds.
"I need to talk to you," I blurt out at the exact same time Ash says, with forced lightness, "Guess who I ran into?"
We laugh awkwardly. "You go first," I offer, procrastinating like crazy.
Ash shrugs. "Oh, I was just going to say I ran into May - you know, Gary's sister?" I nod, and he continues. "Yeah, she was out with Gary and they got into a fight." He laughs. "Must be the night for it, huh? Anyway, I hung out with her for awhile. She was telling me about the fight she and Gary had." Ash shook his head. "God, he's such a jerk to her sometimes, you know?"
I grip the edge of my chair and smile weakly. "Ash, I've got to ask," I begin, trying to sound casual. "Do you think there's a chance you and Gary could ever be friends again?"
Ash ponders this question. "There's a chance." My heart soars. He grins. "It's slim to none, but there's a chance."
Shattered.
"So what did you have to tell me?" he asks.
I stand up and back towards the door. "You know, I completely forgot," I babble, walking backwards which was never my talent. "And look how late it is. I better get to bed."
I practically bolt out of there and don't stop till I'm in my room, the door closed.
Stupid, Misty. Really universally stupid.
I should have told Ash then. I should have. Because regardless of when he finds out - and I'm sure he will - he's going to be mad I didn't tell him from day one and there'll be a whole mistrust thing. It's not like I can run in there now and act is if I just remembered.
Looks like fresh start number three will be in the works before long.
"Stupid, Misty," I mutter, flopping stomach down onto my bed. "Really stupid."
I check my watch. 7:01. Do you think I'm possibly a little early to achieve that fashionably late thing I usually strive for.
It's not an eagerness complex. I swear.
I raise my arm to knock on the Ketchum's door and it's flung open before I even make contact. Misty slips through the door, grabs my arm and drags me to the car.
She looks beautiful, in a calf-length silvery-blue sundress and black sandals, a black cardigan draped over her shoulders. But I get the feeling the pink hue to her cheeks has nothing to do with a meticulous make-up job.
"Nice to see you, too, Misty," I say, trying to resist her whirlwind pull. For such a slender, delicate thing, she sure has a Schwarzennegar grip.
"Right back at ya," she says unceremoniously, succeeding in dragging me down the driveway and out to the street.
I plant my feet firmly on the stubby grass on the nature strip and she stops and turns to look at me. I smirk. "You didn't tell Ash, did you?"
She picks her way across the grass to my car, clearly stalling. "Tell is such a subjective term," she hedges, angling her head in an attempt to look thoughtful. "I mean . . . " She stops suddenly and sighs. "No. No, I didn't."
I unlock the car and open the passenger door for Misty, who slides in. I don't close the door, and instead stand there and stare at her.
"What?" she asks, sounding irritated.
I heave a woeful sigh and walk around the car. I get in, and cast Misty another look.
"Don't look at me like that," she snaps, slumping in her seat. "It was a lot harder than it sounded."
I start the ignition and pull onto the road. "How do you know?" I ask reasonably. "You didn't actually do it." Before she can let loose at me, as I'm sure she will, I continue. "Look, Misty, I'd really like you to tell Ash. No, I really want you to tell him," I say calmly as we turn out of Ash's street.
I catch her making a face out of the corner of my eye, which is kind of amusing. It's so strange to see this beautiful, graceful girl making faces at me like a spoiled six-year-old.
"Why?" she questions. "So you can watch him disown me for life?"
I shake my head almost imperceptibly and turn right. "No," I say, pausing to make sure I have her full attention. "Because Ash is important to you. And I don't think I can be important to you if you don't tell him."
I turn my head just in time to see all sarcasm drain from her face. For a moment, that mask she always wears falls, and I glimpse pure, unshielded Misty.
"I wanted to tell him," she tells me quietly, playing with the silver bracelet that circles her slender wrist. I remember Brock giving it to her on her birthday.
She reminds of the way May gets when she turns on the manipulation mode - all remorseful and puppy-eyed. Only with Misty it's real.
I come to a stop at a red light behind a four-wheel drive and take the opportunity to look at Misty. She's still looking down, which doesn't make it easy. I reach out and gently lift her chin, forcing her to look up. "So why didn't you?"
She laughs mirthlessly and smoothes an imaginary wrinkle from the skirt of her dress. "He'd just gotten done with telling me there's a slim to none chance of him ever being friends with you again," she says. "It didn't strike me as the best time."
The way she's keeping her voice tone-free tells me that she hates this. That the fact that Ash and I don't get along really tears into her.
The four-wheel drive ahead of me moves forward, and I follow, interrupting a chance to probe Misty any further about her feelings.
"I understand that's hard," I say carefully, diplomatically. "And I do want you to tell him. But I'll let you do that. I'll try not to push you."
Misty rewards me with a grateful, brilliant smile. A brief silence follows, which Misty quickly fills with a new line of conversation. "So where are we going?" she asks, leaning forward slightly as though that'll make it easier for her to see where we're headed. "Are you going to haul me to Viridian City for a cup of coffee?"
I feign astonishment. "However did you guess?" I ask, trying on a mock Southern accent.
Misty giggles and falls back in her seat. "You never fail to amaze me," she tells me. "You are an absolute geek."
"Gee whiz," I respond, sarcastically. "That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day. Has anyone ever told you that you're absolutely charming?"
She smirks. "All the time."
Did you ever have a moment where you just can't wipe the smile off your face if you tried? And not the kind of smile where you're holding back laughter because some dumbass just fell flat on their face or something. I mean genuine smiling, where you're just really, really happy?
I'm doing that now.
I'm so happy I just want to bottle it or something. I'm so happy I'm coming up with cheesy ideas like bottling happiness.
I can't remember the last time I had such a good time. I can't remember the last time I felt so . . . I don't know, happy. Free.
Okay, that's a lie. I do remember. It was sometime before Ash and I broke up.
Gary's so different to Ash though, that they could be a scientific study in contrasts. For such an egotistical guy, he prides himself on chivalry. I don't think Ash would know chivalry if it - or I - smacked him in the face.
Maybe it's part of the ego thing, though. Maybe it's the whole airs-and-graces thing. I think more than anything it's probably his upbringing. You don't grow up to be a member of the most prestigious family in a small town and not possess level of inherent pretension.
Still, no one could accuse Ash of being modest. I think that's why Gary and Ash clash the way they do. They're both fairly egotistical, but in such different ways. I think that Ash is so vocal in his belief in himself because he wants to be that person. Gary acts like he's better than everyone else is because he actually believes it.
But cut past that egotistic layer, and there's a guy under there who is considerate, intelligent, sweet and witty.
I guess that's why I don't want to go home yet.
"I want a girl who uses a machete to cut through red tape," Gary recites clearly, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.
I roll my eyes. "Puh-lease," I respond, making sure I sound sufficiently disdainful. "That's baby stuff. Short Skirt/Long Jacket by Cake."
Gary's eyes narrow and he glances at me. "Not bad," he admits grudgingly, peering through his windscreen at the still traffic. "Your turn."
I consider this thoughtfully, toying with the sleeve of my black cardigan, which is lying on my lap. "Okay," I say finally. "If you see my girlfriend cry, just keep walking, pass her by." I throw him the bitchiest look I can muster. "Want to give up?"
He looks worried for a minute, and for that brief minute there's hope that I've won the game. Then that uncertainty drops to reveal pure smugness. "Who Sold Her Out by Eskimo Joe," he says dramatically. He mimes hitting a drum kit. "Ba-doom ching!"
I sigh, fold my arms. "Fine. Your turn."
Gary considers this seriously as he follows behind the yellow Lexus ahead of us. He takes his hands of the steering wheel to rub them together eagerly. "Oh, okay." He clears his throat. "Must have picked the stars out of the sky and left them in your eyes."
I, the reigning queen of Name The Song Or Get A Punch In The Arm (a game which pretty much illustrates just how bored Brock and I used to get) am stumped. I know the line - I swear I do. I just can't seem to place it.
"Misty is stumped!" Gary sings childishly, taking a right.
"I am not!" I retort, equally childish. "I know it. I swear."
Gary snorts. "Right," he responds, drawing out the word so it sounds like it's made up of two syllables instead of two.
I scowl. "Shut up. I'm thinking." I drum my fingers slightly on the dash. "Must have picked the stars out of the sky and left them in your eyes," I mutter, running the words through my head.
Gary sighs. "Come on!" he says impatiently. "Let me punch you already!"
I look at him levelly. "Girl hitter," I say petulantly. Then I turn my head pointedly. "Must have picked the stars out of the sky . . . "
I hear Gary laugh a little.
"Ah ha!" I cry, as something triggers in my head. "Must have picked the stars out of the sky and left them in your eyes," I sing, trying to get to the chorus. It's pop, I can tell that much, so chances are they repeat the title thirty times in the chorus. "Boy, I'm thinking bout you every day and every night," I continue. I hum the rest of the verse, trying to get to the chorus and ignore the amused looks Gary is shooting my way. I look at him, making sure I look smug as I sing the chorus. "It's the way you that you make me crazy, feels so right that it's you now baby. And you got it all going on, with all the little things that will make me crazy. Just the way you make me feel, feel so alive for the first time baby. When you make me crazy, you got me baby."
Gary grins. "That was beautiful, Misty, but this isn't the Sing The Chorus game. This is the Name The Song game."
I manage to resist sticking my tongue out at him and flutter my lashes demurely. "Make Me Crazy by Scandal'Us," I tell him victoriously. I hit his arm slightly. "And shame on you for trying to trick me with a pop song."
Gary chuckles and lifts his broad shoulders. "Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying."
I laugh despite myself and shake my head. I look out the window and blink. "You better stop."
Gary glances at me. "That's all you're gonna give me?"
My brow furrows, then I laugh. "No, I mean that. You just drove past Ash's house."
Gary stares at me, then looks out the windscreen. He sees that I'm right, slaps his forehead, curses under his breath and reverses back down the street, pulling to a stop out the front of Ash's house.
"Wow," Gary says, allowing his hands to fall from the steering wheel to his lap. "Can't believe we're back here already. It's been like what? An hour? Two?"
"Five," I inform him, my lips upturned in a small smile.
He checks his watch then pushes a hand through his thick hair. "Whoa. Time flies."
I laugh a little, aware that my cheeks are flushed and pull my thin black cardigan over my arms. "I had fun. Really," I say, not out of politeness, but out of honesty.
"Yeah," Gary agrees, but his voice is a little lower, a little huskier than before. "I'm glad. I had a really good time too."
Damn, his voice is melt-worthy. Why did I never notice that?
We remain silent for a few seconds, and I break the silence. I hate silence. "Just in case you were wondering," I begin, drawing the words out, watching him for a reaction - any reaction. "I never kiss on the first date."
Gary takes this in and nods slowly, understandingly. "Oh, sure. That's understandable."
I nod mutely in agreement, trying to pretend that I'm not a little miffed that he's not arguing the point with me.
I watch as a small, hard to read smirk curves Gary's lips. "Of course," he drawls, looking thoughtful. "If we're going to take 'date' as meaning going somewhere together for the purpose of entertainment, then we could say last night was a date, and considering that we've never done anything else together, last night would have been our first date, so tonight would be -"
Gary doesn't get to finish his sentence though, because I lean forward and gently touch my lips to his. He remains still for a second, clearly surprised, but recovers quickly and kisses me back. His kiss is gentle, sweet and leaves me wanting more.
I pull away, smile slightly then open the door. "Good night," I say softly.
I'm already out of the car and about to shut the door behind me before Gary recovers enough from the shock to respond.
"Yeah, sure," he says, just as quietly. "Good night."