Oh, But You're An Explosion

I groaned as I got into my shitty truck. I so wasn't ready for this. I had been pacing through my room the entire time since I got home and when I went to Taylor for help - yeah, I know, right? - her eyes nearly fell out of her head. I thought I was going to have to call an ambulance.

So here I am, sitting in my car, listening to Janis Joplin and Bob Dylan beat the shit out of the inside of my rusty old speakers. I just sat there in a daze, not really paying attention to the music.

This kind of music is the music I like, not that screaming shit that makes my skin crawl.

Not what Oli sings. Fuck that.

"Oh, shit." I muttered, mindlessly pulling outfront of the restaurant Oli told me the directions to earlier when he text me. I turned the ignition and felt my car shutter to a silent putter before it backfired. I laughed, then took a deep breath.

Am I really about to do this? I asked myself, my hands bracing the steering wheel.

"No, Anna. Don't do it." I said to myself, my hand reaching for the key in the ignition.

No! What the fuck are you doing? You can't. You CANNOT! stand him up. No matter how bad you don't want to do this you can't stand the poor guy up., I thought back to myself, sighing.

My hands somehow made their way to my forehead, unleashing their wrath from the steering wheel, and braced my head in them. I was already getting a headache from my awfully-fought fight with myself.

"Shit." I muttered to myself, looking at Oli's car parked a few cars from mine. I hadn't seen that before.

He was in there. Waiting. Waiting for me.

"God damnit! I'm too nice!" I shouted to myself, swinging open my door and throwing my legs onto the pavement.

Wish me luck, kid., I thought to myself, walking through the heavy front doors of the very nice restaurant.

[--]

"What kind of music do you like?" Oli asked me from the opposite side of the table.

I swallowed my bite of rib and cleared my throat. "Older music - 60's, 70's, 80's. Some 90's, but not too much current. Like Jimi Hendrix, Pink Floyd, Patti Smith, Bob Dylan, Grateful Dead, John Lennon, Tom Petty; the list goes on."

He laughed. "So you're pretty much a Classic Rock junkie?"

I shrugged, laughing, and took another bite of my rib. "Pretty much." I swallowed. "My mom was a bigtime flower child and she raised me like that."

Oli nodded. "That interesting."

"What is?" I asked, tearing off another bite of rib.

He smirked. "You're just so... so different. I don't think I've ever gone on a date with a girl to a nice 5-star restaurant and had them order ribs before. And... you look so current, like you would listen to my band's music, but then you bust out in this hippy-child shit and I'm just like woah. Girls from Laguna aren't supposed to be like this. Girls aren't supposed to be like this. You're... amazing."

I could feel myself blush through the coating of barbeque sauce that was smeared so gracefully across my face. I didn't know what to say to that - and the look in Oli's eyes told me that I didn't really need to say much of anything.

Our waitor decided that was a good time to bring the check and I couldn't have agreed more.

[--]

Oli and I had driven back to my house, him in his car behind me, and decided that we were just going to drop mine off and go to some party he wanted to take me to from there.

I really didn't want to go home, but I didn't want to go to that party, either. As much as I hated to admit it I wanted to stay with Oli a little bit more, but at a party? Only God knows that this party's going to be like.

He assured me that he wouldn't let anything happen to me, but will that deal still apply when he's completely plastered and high and anything but paying attention to me? I doubt it; he probably won't even remember me.

And I've never really been anyone for the party scene, anyways. Why now?

'Because, Anna, you're eighteen! Live a little!' was Oli's excuse.

I couldn't say that he was wrong.

So, as I climbed into his car, I thought my options over and decided that there weren't any - I was going to go to this party and I was going to come back alive. Or at least in a few pieces.