Chasing Fireflies

I must be crazy. That’s literally the only explanation for this.

When you’re young, your parents always tell you not to talk to strangers; “Stranger Danger” everyone called it.

I love my parents; really, I do. And yet here I am, newly eighteen years old, and I’m driving in a car with a guy I met just yesterday. We’re supposedly going to go get some Mexican, but for all I know he could be kidnapping me.

But wait. I’m the one who offered to go with him. If he really wanted to kidnap me, wouldn’t he have insisted that I go? He didn’t seem to care either way, really.

I sigh deeply. He looks over at me and asks what’s wrong. “I’m just thinking,” I say. He asks what I’m thinking about. “Stuff,” I reply. He laughs. It’s quiet for the rest of the ride, and before I know it we’re pulling into the parking lot of El Tapatio. John parks the van and signals for me to wait. He gets out of the van, comes around to my side, and holds my door open while I get out. “Such a gentleman.” I smile at him and he smiles back.

“I try,” he quips. He holds the door open for me again when we enter the restaurant. I thank him and he tells me I’m welcome. The inside of El Tapatio is dead, besides two waiters and the chefs in the back. John tells the waiter that there are only two of us and the waiter grabs two menus. “I guess we have the whole place to ourselves,” John says aloud. I nod and follow the waiter to our table. I sit on one side and John sits on the other, and we sit silently while we read the menus.

When the waiter comes to take our order, John orders three beef enchiladas and I order two chicken enchiladas. The waiter takes our menus and goes to tell the chefs our order. John takes a tortilla chip and dips it in the salsa and I do the same. I’m a little worried that our meal is going to continue in silence, until John speaks up. “So, do you always eat this late at night?”

I shake my head. “No. I was just really craving Mexican food for some reason. I’m actually usually in bed at this hour.” I laugh.

“I see,” John says. He looks at me, his eyes crinkling. “I thought maybe it was because you thought I was cute.” He smirks.

I try my hardest not to blush—because let’s face it, John is cute—and try to act nonchalant. “You are so arrogant,” I tell him, hoping it comes off as jokingly and not serious.

I expect him to make a sarcastic retort, but instead he says, “Speaking of arrogance, did you know that I thought Garrett was a total douchebag when I met him?”

I almost choke on my water and John laughs at me. “Why—Why would you think that?” I ask him.

John shrugs. “I just did.” He takes another chip, dips it in the salsa, and eats it. “So, how close are you and your cousin?”

I pause at the abrupt change in topic, but consider his question, before answering, “We’ve always been very close. Her parents aren’t the best parents, so she grew up practically living at my house. I kind of consider her my sister more than my cousin, to be honest.”

John must sense that the topic is hard for me to talk about because he doesn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he starts talking about his band mates. “Besides thinking Garrett was a douchebag, I liked everyone else when I met them.” He goes on to say that he thinks they mesh really well as a band.

“Are you guys sure this is what you want to do with your lives?” I see John getting a little uncomfortable, so I continue, “I mean. It’s a fine profession, and I support Stacey in her endeavors as well, but I was just curious. You don’t have to answer.” I look away, slightly embarrassed.

The waiter comes with our food and John smiles really wide. “I was starving,” he explains to me. I’m glad he’s smiling again; I was afraid I had touched a nerve with him. I smile back and unroll my napkin, getting out a fork to eat my enchiladas with.

After John gets situated, getting his fork out as well and eating a few bites, he says, “Yeah. We really love doing what we do and we had a couple of really long talks about the band before we decided to audition for record labels. We’re all so passionate about music and if you spend time with us, it’s pretty obvious that we’re all in this for the long haul.”

“If what Laurel tells me means anything, I can’t help but agree with you.” I think back to Laurel gushing about them to me as she waited for them to finish their audition.

At the mention of Laurel’s name, John lights up. “Oh gosh. Laurel is our biggest supporter, honestly. I’m not sure what we would do without her.”

“She was really nervous for you guys,” I tell him. “When you guys were auditioning she was wringing her hands and they were all red.” I pause. “She really loves you guys,” I say.

John smiles solemnly. “We really love her, too. She’s like our saving grace.”

Conversation between John and I continues throughout our meal. John insists on paying when we leave and holds both the door to the restaurant and the car door open for me when I get in. We’re both really tired, so we don’t talk on the way back to the hotel, simply listening to oldies on the radio and being content just driving in otherwise silence.

When we arrive back at the hotel, John motions for me to wait again and comes and gets my door. He walks me to my room and I thank him for letting me go with him. He shakes his head and tells me it’s no problem. “I had fun tonight,” he says. “Wait. I mean this morning,” he corrects. We both laugh.

“I did, too,” I reply. We smile at each other and for a second I think he might not want to leave, but he gives me a hug and walks to his room. I turn around and go into my own room. As I shut the door behind me, I bite my lip and think to myself: This was just supposed to be helping a friend. You were not supposed to develop feelings for anybody. But it’s too late. I already have.