Meant to Be
4
"You should go talk to that boy," Robin said, stirring the straw in her lemonade. We stopped to eat at a diner in New Jersey.
"What boy?" I asked, staring at my half-eaten burger.
"The boy you've been starin' at for the last ten minutes." I was pretty sure I wasn't being that obvious. And it wasn't because I liked him or anything, it was because he had cool hair. That's all.
"No thank you," I said, blushing.
"Go talk to him or I'll take the car back."
She looked serious, and I didn't want to risk it, so I walked to the boy's booth, trying to figure out what to say on the way there. He was with a friend and they were sharing chili cheese fries and laughing. My throat got dry and my hands sweaty. Why would they have an interest in me? They obviously have a fulfilling life filled with great food and laughter. Who was I to barge in?
"Um. Hi," I said once I got to their table. I was staring at the floor and scratching my arm. The one with the hair, Hair Boy as I'll call him just stared.
"Can we help you?" his sidekick, Double Chin asked.
"I just wanted to say hi, that's all." They both stared at me.
"Could you go away now?" Hair Boy said, looking irritated.
I sighed and walked back to the booth where Robin was waiting. I slumped forward and stared at the burger again. It's not like I didn't expect that to happen, it just hurts when it does. If Mirabelle were here, she'd understand. She'd tell me I was beautiful.
"Fuck 'em. They're probably lovers anyway," Robin said, sipping her drink.
"Can we just go?" She shrugged and I put the money on the table.
When we got out to her car, I realized that I was extremely close to New York City, yet I had no idea how to get to Mirabelle's loft. I just had the address, and I didn't have a computer near me.
"We have to ask for directions," I said, looking at the keys.
"Fine. You do it. I'm waiting in the car." With that, she got into the passenger side and reclined the seat.
I bit my lip and looked across the street at an apartment building. A short man with a gray and brown comb over and mustache in a striped Izod was exiting the front door. I ran over before he could go anywhere and held up my paper.
"Do you know how I can get to this part of New York City?" He looked at me and cocked his head before responding.
"I don't, but I have a computer. You can come upstairs and look it up. I don't mind, it won't take that long," he said, smiling.
"Thank you so much. Can I print?"
"Sure. No problem."
It was nice to know that there were still a few good people other than Mirabelle Stewart on this dying planet.
"What boy?" I asked, staring at my half-eaten burger.
"The boy you've been starin' at for the last ten minutes." I was pretty sure I wasn't being that obvious. And it wasn't because I liked him or anything, it was because he had cool hair. That's all.
"No thank you," I said, blushing.
"Go talk to him or I'll take the car back."
She looked serious, and I didn't want to risk it, so I walked to the boy's booth, trying to figure out what to say on the way there. He was with a friend and they were sharing chili cheese fries and laughing. My throat got dry and my hands sweaty. Why would they have an interest in me? They obviously have a fulfilling life filled with great food and laughter. Who was I to barge in?
"Um. Hi," I said once I got to their table. I was staring at the floor and scratching my arm. The one with the hair, Hair Boy as I'll call him just stared.
"Can we help you?" his sidekick, Double Chin asked.
"I just wanted to say hi, that's all." They both stared at me.
"Could you go away now?" Hair Boy said, looking irritated.
I sighed and walked back to the booth where Robin was waiting. I slumped forward and stared at the burger again. It's not like I didn't expect that to happen, it just hurts when it does. If Mirabelle were here, she'd understand. She'd tell me I was beautiful.
"Fuck 'em. They're probably lovers anyway," Robin said, sipping her drink.
"Can we just go?" She shrugged and I put the money on the table.
When we got out to her car, I realized that I was extremely close to New York City, yet I had no idea how to get to Mirabelle's loft. I just had the address, and I didn't have a computer near me.
"We have to ask for directions," I said, looking at the keys.
"Fine. You do it. I'm waiting in the car." With that, she got into the passenger side and reclined the seat.
I bit my lip and looked across the street at an apartment building. A short man with a gray and brown comb over and mustache in a striped Izod was exiting the front door. I ran over before he could go anywhere and held up my paper.
"Do you know how I can get to this part of New York City?" He looked at me and cocked his head before responding.
"I don't, but I have a computer. You can come upstairs and look it up. I don't mind, it won't take that long," he said, smiling.
"Thank you so much. Can I print?"
"Sure. No problem."
It was nice to know that there were still a few good people other than Mirabelle Stewart on this dying planet.