We Only Breathe For So Long

I entered his truck and he closed the door. It was warm and cozy inside. He then quickly walked over to the driver’s side. He opened the door and got in. He removed his gloves and rubbed his palms together.

“I will never get used to this weather,” he said, turning the truck keys and making the engine roar.

“You’re not the only one,” I chuckled. “So, where are we going? I hope you’re not a weirdo of some sort and this is a kidnaping scheme,” I said jokingly.

He laughed. “Although that is a pretty good plan, I’d rather eat some pizza. You up for it?” he asked as he stopped by a red light.

“As long as I get to choose the pizza, I’m up for it!” I said.

You could see his truck was old. He had an entire CD collection inside the truck and the radio was on the entire ride. There was a guitar at the back and a couple of photos.

“You know, I was really surprised to see you again yesterday,” said John, his eyes were focused on the road.

“I know right? I never would’ve imagined it!”

“What are you doing over here though? You’re far from home.”

“I, um… I moved here because I got a scholarship to this university.”

“Which university?” he asked.

“British Columbia.”

He looked at me surprised. “Are you serious? That’s like, one of the best universities over here isn't it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“You’re probably one of those smart people who don’t think they’re smart at all uh?” he grinned.

I laughed. “I guess so.”

After several minutes he stopped the engine. “We're here.”

We both stepped out of the car and John led the way. I thought he was taking me somewhere fancy and I got relieved to know we were going to Pizza Hut.

“I’m still clueless about this place and Pizza Hut is the one destination I know. Besides that market place,” he laughed.

We got a table and sat down facing each other. The waiter came by and gave us menus.

“So, what piz-”

“Pepperoni,” I said, without even looking at the menu.

He stared at me with his mouth half opened.

“What? It’s really good! Most people don’t like it but if you don’t, we can-”

“Not at all, pepperoni is good,” he smiled.

The waiter came back around and John ordered the pizza along with two beers.

We talked more than we ate. We talked about the band, his passion for music, my job, how life was in Arizona, the boys and a bit of everything else. I didn’t tell him anything that would make him have pity for me like my mother’s death. When he asked questions about how it was back home, I used to say as little as possible and change the topic.

“Was your dad alright with everything?” he asked while gabbing another slice of pizza.

“Yeah, totally. He was the one who came up with the idea at first.”

He laughed at a memory. “That’s pretty cool. My dad wanted to kill me when I told him I wasn’t going to college. My mom wanted too at first but then she understood.”

Once the word ‘mom’ came up, my mind was racing. I couldn’t give him the chance to ask me about my mom or I’d probably just make a fool of myself and drown in tears.

“That’s even cooler! You didn’t have to study for a couple more years of torture,” I said jokingly.

“Definitely,” he chuckled. “What are you doing?”

“Journalism,” I said. There was a pause for a few heartbeats. “You know, I also had a dream similar to yours. I wanted to do music, be a guitarist or something. But I became one of those thousands of people who don't reach their dreams. Unlike you rockstar,” I said with a smirk.

He shoved a big piece of his pizza into his mouth. His eyes were constantly moving from place to place.

“Kylie,” he said and then paused, waiting for my reply.

So far, I was nailing it. My nerves were intact. But the minute that he said my name, my gut was a home for butterflies.

“Yes?” I replied.

“Would you like to head over to the bus with me? I mean, the boys. Um, I told them I might bring you over and they were pretty psyched with the idea,” he unleashed a shy smile while looking deeply into my eyes.

Oh God… those laser eyes.

“Why not?” I smiled.

“Good question,” he smirked.

After ten minutes, we were out of that place and on the road once again. Country music was buzzing out of the stereo.

“I didn’t know you did country music,” I commented.

“We all have our days,” he glanced sideways at me, still paying attention on the road. “When you get there, they’ll probably act normal and pretend they don’t remember you when in fact, they have been talking about you all day long,” said John, a smile pursuing his lips.

I laughed. “Really? Are you guys that lame?” I said jokingly.

“Yeah, bands tend to be very lame and stupid at times,” said John, his arm was leaning on his door. “Scratch that, basically every time!”

As he finished his sentence, he was half way out of the car already. We were in an immensely empty parking lot. The bus was big and long mostly.

John opened the door with a tag. “Are you ready?”

“More than never,” I replied, inches away from him.

We held gaze for a few heartbeats and just smiled at each other like complete fools once again.

I started climbing the first steps of the flight of stairs. “I hope you didn’t say anything bad about me.”

He grinned. “Not at all,” he said, pronouncing each word crystal clear.