Seventeen and Invincible

We were going back to the water, I recognized the path. He swung his car easily into a spot that probably wasn’t even intended for parking and grabbed a guitar case from the back. I climbed slowly out of the car, watching him swing the case onto his back. He walked to my side and easily slid his arm across my shoulders, squeezing me to him. He leaned over to press his lips to the top of my head—his silent way of telling me it would all get better in time.

We settled on an old dock that I feared would break, but if it did, then it did, and it probably wouldn’t. If it broke, then we were just meant to float away with the current, far, far away from here. I decided to swing my legs off of the dock and lay back onto the splintery wooden surface. I heard Garrett tune the guitar slowly, as if he was unsure of what the notes should sound like. If he was tuning his bass, it would’ve been done in a third of the time. “The D is off by a half step,” I remarked as he was about to move onto the ‘G.’

“How can you do that?” he asked incredulously. I shrugged and he went back to tuning.

“It’s just a gift.” I smiled and played idly with his shoe lace—he was sitting with his legs crossed. I started to hum along with the chords he was strumming. “I want something else to get me through this, semi-charmed kind of life, baby. I want something else. I’m not listening when you say good-bye,” I trilled. He smiled down at me and stopped strumming.

“You sound happy but you still look so sad,” he sighed placing the guitar behind him and laying down with me on the dock.

“I guess I’m a better actress than I thought,” I laughed. I was still upset without a doubt. I still hated Evan and I hated seeing him with Ariel.

“I just want you to get over it and be happy again. I want my best friend back.” I reached out to grab his wrist.

“I’m still me. I’m just in a bad place right now.” He bent his wrist to slide his hand into mine. “I don’t really want to be like this. I want to be happy. I want to look at him and I don’t want it to hurt, but that might take a while.” He sighed loudly and I moved my head onto his chest.

“I just want you to be okay.”

“I will be eventually.”

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“No. It’s your turn. You have to go. It isn’t fair if you don’t,” he laughed. It was well past dark and the two of us were still sitting on the dock. At sundown we had ventured to the car to find a lantern. We had wound up back at the dock fifteen minutes later with a quilt from his trunk, which we spread out on the dock, the five lanterns that had been reserved for night time gatherings, iPod speakers that we weren’t really using, a few bottles of water and a bag of Chips Ahoy! Cookies.

“I don’t want to!” I giggled. We were playing a game where we clicked next on the iPod and had to sing the chorus of the next song that came on. He gave me a look and I sighed. “Fine.” I reached over to click next when he stopped me.

“Nu-uh, I get to click for you—make sure you don’t cheat.” I rolled my eyes as he clicked ‘next.’ The song that the iPod chose was My Heart by Paramore. I groaned. I loved the song, but I would never in a million years be able to do it justice, let alone make it sound decent.

“Sing us a song and we’ll sing it back to you. We could write our own, but oh, what would it be without you.” I smiled and told him it was his turn, laughing as he sang an incredibly off key version of Lips of an Angel.

“Sorry not all of us have been in choir since they were old enough to speak.” I laughed
at his pout, a grin crossing my face. He laughed and smiled, exposing his bright white teeth. When I gazed back up at him from the water our faces were mere inches apart. His electric eyes locked with my emerald ones and he was all I could focus on. I was looking for something in his stare. I was looking for a hint in his eyes that he felt the same tingling and burning in his stomach that I did. He slowly let a small laugh cross his lips, as he looked down at his hands and began playing with his thumbs.

“So,” I laughed weakly, averting my gaze to the blanket below me. “What time is it?”

“It’s after eleven,” he said with a yawn. “Why?” I shrugged in reply and began picking at my thumb nails. “Do you wanna go home?” he asked quickly, curiously.

“No,” I replied quickly. “I want to stay here forever and ever and ever.” He laughed and laid back down on the blanket.

“Well, we can stay tonight. It’s not quite forever, but it’s something at least.” I nodded and curled into his side, staring up at the bright stars shining down on us. He wrapped an arm around my waist and my head found the comfortable spot right above where his heart was, his heart providing the beat for whatever song or story we were writing.

“Look,” I said pointing, “a shooting star.”

“That means we get to make a wish,” he replied watching the star cross the night sky and disappear just as quickly as it had appeared.

“What did you wish for?” I asked softly, staring back up at the sky.

“I can’t tell you, ‘cause then it won’t come true,” he laughed. “What about you?”

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.” I laughed a little and hoped, and believed, deep down that we had somehow made the same wish—that we’d wished for the same thing. But then again, what were the chances?