Lust.

I stared at the frayed edge of the polyester tan seats in Royce Patterson’s old 1983 BMW. We drove slowly through the streets of Purshing (of course because it had begun raining again) before we reached Lilah’s house. I had already phoned my mom and told her that I’d made some new friends and we were studying together for a couple of hours. Her house was a two-story with white clapboard siding and tall, open windows. It was located in the middle of a large open green area that elevated up. There were trees lining both sides of the field.

“Does anyone in Purshing have neighbors?” I asked curiously.

“No, not a lot of people have neighbors here. It’s a small town, as you already know, and there’s so much land that there’s no need to build so close to each other,” Lilah said while unlocking her car door and slinging her backpack over her shoulder. “And I guess we all like our privacy.”

We all stepped into the outside air, which was still moist with condensation as the rain had slowed into a mist. It was cool, yet it was nice outside. I watched the way my red rain boots crushed into the gravel intently, some of my brown hair blocking my view, before we came to the front of Lilah’s house and waited for her to unlock the door. I stared off to the side where there were a few white wicker chairs scattered around on the front porch. Royce cast a side glance at me before smiling and following Lilah into the house. It smelled like old books and cedar logs, which she informed me the kitchen was made out of.

The room which we ended up settling in was one of the rooms in the front of the house that had rows of books stacked on shelves, a small table in the middle, and a bay window with a soft looking window seat. It was a cosy room, and there was a nice view overlooking the valley. I could see the mist covering the grass and bushes in the front of her house, and mountains barely peeked on the horizon.

“So,” Lilah smiled, throwing her backpack onto the floor, “how were your first couple of days?”

“I like it so far,” I grinned, “but maybe that’s because you guys have been so welcoming.”

Royce plopped down on the ground with a jar of peanut butter in one hand and a spoon in the other, looking up at me mischievously, “Oh, you’re just lucky, I hope you know that. Lilah is really picky with her friends.”

Lilah threw a pencil at him and missed by only a centimeter, “Oh, shut up.”

“Well it’s true! Remember that Percy kid two years ago? You didn’t like him because you said you could just feel that you wouldn’t like him,” Royce said, stuffing a spoonful of peanut butter in his mouth.

Lilah scoffed and smirked, “I was right, wasn’t I?”

They went on like this for the remainder of the two hours while we tried to study and get our homework done for our classes. I was having a particularly hard time with my math work and what to do for my first art project, and it didn’t help that I was constantly engaging in conversation with the two. I supposed it might have been easier to concentrate if Hawley were there because he would have probably tried to quiet them, but he had apparently had a make up piano lesson after school that his teacher had sprung on him. I was slightly relieved, because it felt as if Hawley wasn’t too fond of my company.

I’d gotten a call earlier from my mother wanting to know when in the world I was going to get home and if I could get her a jar of tomato sauce from the nearest grocery store. Of course I agreed and told Royce that when he was going to take me home I needed to stop by the nearest food store. It wasn’t too far from where I lived. We rode mostly in awkward silence before he finally dropped me off at the local corner store, where most everyone shopped.

I wandered down the aisles aimlessly before stumbling upon the jars of tomato sauce, half of them organic and specialty, and some of them generic name brand. I had to open my flip phone and dial home before I knew exactly which one my mother wanted. It still took some deciding on my behalf, so I stood, halfway in the middle of the aisle, pondering if organic was actually any better than generic brand.

“Excuse me,” I turned at the sound of the voice.

My eyes met with two brilliant emeralds framed by soft chocolate-colored hair.

I suddenly found myself freezing up.

“Oh, I’m s-sorry,” I found myself stuttering.

He smiled a heartbreaking, dazzling smile. “Hi Ella. You’re okay.”

I smiled back. He had changed his school clothes and was wearing a pair of dark wash jeans and a black long-sleeved t-shirt. He looked nice.

“Have you been thinking about your art project anymore? Or do you already have your idea?”

“I think I might have an idea, but I’m not so sure.” I was suddenly curious, “So why did you pick that poem?”

“I love Frost,” he said, as if it were the most simple sentence to come out of his mouth, “and it’s my favorite poem.”

I wanted to ask why, but it felt like I would be prying. I only nodded and finally decided to go with the organic tomato sauce (mostly because it looked like it tasted better and was probably way healthier). I stared down at the label before his left hand wound its way over the cap and removed it from my fingers. There was no ring on his finger this time.

“Organic, eh? You know this one is actually the best one here. I was going to recommend you this one, but it looks like I don’t need to.” He grinned.

I laughed and told him I had to get home for dinner. I’d see him at school tomorrow. I finally made my way to the front of the store and paid the man at the register, who looked extremely bored, for the tomato sauce. I felt a warm sort of tingling inside of me. I liked talking to Mr. Whiting. Or at least, I liked talking idly with him in the middle of the grocery store. God, I was weird.

I walked out into the damp wind and climbed into Royce’s car.

“What took you so long?” He blew out exasperatedly. “Geez I thought you got lost or something.”

I just smiled to myself. “I couldn’t really decide what I wanted.”