Dreams

During lunch break, I say a quick good-bye to Brenna and Evan, popping into Walgreens. At first, I don't see Conrad anywhere, but just as I was about to turn around to see if he was already at the food court, I see his body sprawled out on the ugly gray carpet.

He has his hands clasped behind his head and those brown eyes are carefully studying the ceiling as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"Is this what you do everyday at work?" I ask, a smile already tugging at the corners of my lips as Conrad thrashes around for a second, surprised, before his gaze lands on me.

"Hey," he says, smiling and wrapping his arms around me for a quick hug. "I don't do this everyday. . .I just wanted to see how long I could lay there before someone that worked here found me."

"How long did you last?" I ask, as Conrad tells his coworker he's taking his lunch break now.

"I proudly lasted since the beginning of my shift." He grins at me, lacing our fingers together, and swinging our hands back and forth as if we were little kids.

I laugh, "Conrad, it's noon. Your shift started at nine this morning."

He nods, "Yup."

"You laid on the ground for three hours?"

Conrad raises an eyebrow at me, "Are you actually surprised?"

I shake my head as we reach the food court, "Not at all, actually."

The corners of his lips twitch upward, "Exactly. So what do you want?" He speaks with a different accent for every type of food: "Italian, Chinese, American Fat Ass Food, subs. . ."

"Chinese sounds yummy," I say, resting my head against his arm as it involuntarily wraps around my waist.

"Hm, it really does," Conrad mumbles, his face buried in my hair.

"Are you sniffing my hair?" I laugh, pulling away to I can look at his face. As always, those chocolate eyes captivate me and I look away, trying to gather my thoughts again. I tug on his hand, pulling him toward Chinese food counter.

"Your hair smells like strawberries!" Conrad exclaims, making heads turn and raise eyebrows at the eighteen your old yelling that my hair smells like fruit as if he were six.

I laugh and slap a hand over his mouth, "You're so obnoxious."

"I wam tawt," He mumbles against my hand.

"Oh, you really are." I say, smiling.

Removing my hand, we get in line at the "Chinese Panda."

"You know," Conrad says, taking my hand again, "I don't think your shampoo is strawberries. Maybe. . .mango?"

"It's strawberry and melon," I mutter, rolling my eyes, "Do you have a hair fetish or something?"

He laughs loudly. And when I say loudly, I mean loudly, side-gripping, actual rolling on the floor laughing his ass off. . .loudly. I apologize to a young parent when their baby starts whimpering behind us and they have to leave the line.

"Con!" I hiss in his ear, attempting to get him to stand straight up and stop laughing, "You're making a scene!"

"Can I take your order?" An older Chinese guy says behind the cash register, already getting agitated with us. He had a heavy accent, one I could barely understand, and I quickly ordered some beef teryaki, an egg roll, and rice.

After finally stopping his laughing fit, Conrad orders the same as me, wiping a tear away from his eye. When we set on a hunt for a lunch, I ask, "What is wrong with you? It wasn't even that funny."

"I don't even know, it was just one of those times where you needed to get that out of your system."

I look at him skeptically before setting my tray down, letting the chair scrape across the tiled floor, and sit down. "I understand. . .I think."

After sitting down across from me, he whispers, "You called me Con."

For some reason, I feel a blush rush across my cheeks like a forest fire. "I - uh. . .Don't know why I said it, it just sort of came out."

Conrad smiles, "I don't mind. I like it, actually. It's just. . .my mom used to call me that."

"Oh," I say quietly, "Why'd you move out from your parents?"

He coughs distractedly, finding the pattern on the food court table utterly enthralling. "I didn't, really. That apartment is where they - well, we - lived. They, uh, passed away in a car accident a day before my eighteenth birthday."

You know those moments when you hear something you don't want to? And then you can feel this endless pit in your stomach, an aching in your heart, and the world gets a little more melancholy for just a few moments, or months even.

This is one of those moments.

The entire food court seems to have become silent as I reach out for his hand, "I'm sorry. . .I won't call you Con anymore if you don't --."

"No," he says fiercely, "It's fine. I just wanted you to. . .you know, know."

I smile sadly at him before sniffing at the air purposely.

"What are you doing?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Do you use. . .Ocean Breeze shampoo?"

A smile cracks across his face and it's the most beautiful thing, like the sun breaking through the clouds on a rainy day, and suddenly I just want time to freeze this moment - when everything is exactly the way it should be.