His Fingertips Have Memories
Their Relationship Their Friendship Their Whatever
Bob and Amy dragged her suitcases to his car.
“Thanks for picking me up,” said Amy awkwardly. Bob nodded. After they hugged, the shock and initial happiness of seeing one another faded and reality set it. Their past came flooding in; their old feelings drowned both of them. They got into Bob’s car and pulled out of the park lot.
“Where to?”
Amy shrugged. “Nearest hotel.”
“You’re living in a hotel? That’s ridiculous. You should…” Bob didn’t finish the sentence. He wanted to ask her to stay with him. But there were so many reasons he couldn’t.
“No, I’m just living in a hotel for like a week until this old lady moves out of my new apartment. I think her husband died in the bedroom while he was sleeping and she wants to sell the place cause it creeps her out or something.”
‘What the fuck?’’ thought Bob, his face must of showed it because she started laughing.
“I’m totally joking. I have no idea who lives their now, my real estate agent took care of all of that. Ha, you should totally see you’re face,” said Amy, smiling brilliantly, “lighten up.” Bob grinned; he couldn’t believe he felt for that.
“Can’t believe you fell for that,” said Amy. Bob’s grin grew wider.
Amy was picking at her nails. Bob was completely shocked at how little their reunion fazed her. It certainly shook him up a bit. Hell, it shook him up way more than a bit. Did she even care that after two years they were actually in the same state, let alone the same car? Actually, they had been in the same state before, Amy moved to Los Angeles, Bob and My Chemical Romance toured in California and played several shows in LA. He didn’t have the guts to contact her, What if she had a boyfriend? What if she was happy with out him? What if she hated him? What if she didn’t want to see him? The list continued endlessly, but they were all excuses. And there they were; sitting in his car, inches away from one another. He could lean over and kiss her at a stop light if he wanted to; and he really did want to. She was just sitting their picking at her nails! She had told him that he was the love of her life, and after two years all she could do is make some dumb joke about an old couple (something they had talked about; growing old together)?
“You just ran a through a stop sign,” said Amy. Bob looked in the rear view mirror, so he had. “So, your girlfriend doesn’t care that you picked me up from the airport?”
FUCK. How the hell did she know he had a girlfriend? Was it obvious? Where their even signs? Was Bob showing any? Has she spoken to Marissa? He highly doubted that. If she contacted her, and managed to get a hold of her, she would have gotten a big, ‘Go to hell you selfish bitch’ and that would be that. He couldn’t blame her though. Leaving town didn’t only affect Bob, it also affected Marissa. Why shouldn’t it? They were best friends after all. He realized it was really quite, Amy was waiting for a response.
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” mumbled Bob. He didn’t want her to know, not yet. Amy smiled. Crap, he couldn’t lie to her. Not after two years, he didn’t want to start their relationship…their friendship…their whatever off like that.
“Actually I do.” Amy’s face fell. “Sorta. It’s complicated. I had a girlfriend, and I still do, I think. I’m not sure. I don’t know. It depends on things. It’s really complicated. Things are complicated…everything is just really complicated.”
“My fault?”
“Partly. Mostly. Well, my fault too. Mostly mine. Both of our faults.” He stopped talking, or ranting, he was ranting more than talking. He felt his face grow hot. Could he make himself look like more of an idiot? She was smiling, that was a good sign. He decided to ask if she had a boyfriend since the subject was already out their.
“No. No, I most defiantly do not have a boyfriend.” Bob’s stomach flipped and he tried his best to hide his happiness, but he probably looked constipated because she asked if he was going to be sick. They pulled into the parking lot of a Hilton. She recognized where they were. She could walk to his house from here (assuming he lived in the same house, she assumed he did). Bob helped her bring her suitcases into the hotel. She checked into a room and the bellboy took her bags. Bob wish he hadn’t, now he had no excuse to walk her to her room. He figured he’d just ask.
“Need help unpacking?”
“Not really.” She smiled. Amy knew him to well, and it was clearly obvious to both of them. Bob hated unpacking and packing. Whenever he went on tour (she would always come with them) he would leave the packing to the last second, usually the very night before, or the very morning of. She would have to help him, throwing random clothes together. His dirty clothes would spend days in the suitcase after a tour before Amy finally dumped it out. “But we could catch a quick lunch and catch up if you want.”
“Thanks for picking me up,” said Amy awkwardly. Bob nodded. After they hugged, the shock and initial happiness of seeing one another faded and reality set it. Their past came flooding in; their old feelings drowned both of them. They got into Bob’s car and pulled out of the park lot.
“Where to?”
Amy shrugged. “Nearest hotel.”
“You’re living in a hotel? That’s ridiculous. You should…” Bob didn’t finish the sentence. He wanted to ask her to stay with him. But there were so many reasons he couldn’t.
“No, I’m just living in a hotel for like a week until this old lady moves out of my new apartment. I think her husband died in the bedroom while he was sleeping and she wants to sell the place cause it creeps her out or something.”
‘What the fuck?’’ thought Bob, his face must of showed it because she started laughing.
“I’m totally joking. I have no idea who lives their now, my real estate agent took care of all of that. Ha, you should totally see you’re face,” said Amy, smiling brilliantly, “lighten up.” Bob grinned; he couldn’t believe he felt for that.
“Can’t believe you fell for that,” said Amy. Bob’s grin grew wider.
Amy was picking at her nails. Bob was completely shocked at how little their reunion fazed her. It certainly shook him up a bit. Hell, it shook him up way more than a bit. Did she even care that after two years they were actually in the same state, let alone the same car? Actually, they had been in the same state before, Amy moved to Los Angeles, Bob and My Chemical Romance toured in California and played several shows in LA. He didn’t have the guts to contact her, What if she had a boyfriend? What if she was happy with out him? What if she hated him? What if she didn’t want to see him? The list continued endlessly, but they were all excuses. And there they were; sitting in his car, inches away from one another. He could lean over and kiss her at a stop light if he wanted to; and he really did want to. She was just sitting their picking at her nails! She had told him that he was the love of her life, and after two years all she could do is make some dumb joke about an old couple (something they had talked about; growing old together)?
“You just ran a through a stop sign,” said Amy. Bob looked in the rear view mirror, so he had. “So, your girlfriend doesn’t care that you picked me up from the airport?”
FUCK. How the hell did she know he had a girlfriend? Was it obvious? Where their even signs? Was Bob showing any? Has she spoken to Marissa? He highly doubted that. If she contacted her, and managed to get a hold of her, she would have gotten a big, ‘Go to hell you selfish bitch’ and that would be that. He couldn’t blame her though. Leaving town didn’t only affect Bob, it also affected Marissa. Why shouldn’t it? They were best friends after all. He realized it was really quite, Amy was waiting for a response.
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” mumbled Bob. He didn’t want her to know, not yet. Amy smiled. Crap, he couldn’t lie to her. Not after two years, he didn’t want to start their relationship…their friendship…their whatever off like that.
“Actually I do.” Amy’s face fell. “Sorta. It’s complicated. I had a girlfriend, and I still do, I think. I’m not sure. I don’t know. It depends on things. It’s really complicated. Things are complicated…everything is just really complicated.”
“My fault?”
“Partly. Mostly. Well, my fault too. Mostly mine. Both of our faults.” He stopped talking, or ranting, he was ranting more than talking. He felt his face grow hot. Could he make himself look like more of an idiot? She was smiling, that was a good sign. He decided to ask if she had a boyfriend since the subject was already out their.
“No. No, I most defiantly do not have a boyfriend.” Bob’s stomach flipped and he tried his best to hide his happiness, but he probably looked constipated because she asked if he was going to be sick. They pulled into the parking lot of a Hilton. She recognized where they were. She could walk to his house from here (assuming he lived in the same house, she assumed he did). Bob helped her bring her suitcases into the hotel. She checked into a room and the bellboy took her bags. Bob wish he hadn’t, now he had no excuse to walk her to her room. He figured he’d just ask.
“Need help unpacking?”
“Not really.” She smiled. Amy knew him to well, and it was clearly obvious to both of them. Bob hated unpacking and packing. Whenever he went on tour (she would always come with them) he would leave the packing to the last second, usually the very night before, or the very morning of. She would have to help him, throwing random clothes together. His dirty clothes would spend days in the suitcase after a tour before Amy finally dumped it out. “But we could catch a quick lunch and catch up if you want.”