Atlas Hands

The sound of a loud car horn, followed by the feeling of the Jeep swerving had awoken me from my sweet slumber in the passenger seat. I instantly shot up, throwing my hands dramatically over my chest, only to have Casey laugh at me in response. Why was I not surprised?

"Hey!" I yelled, punching him in the shoulder. Times like these were the only times it actually occurred to me that I generally treated Casey more like my personal punching bag than my best friend. "That was not funny, you almost just killed us!"

"But I didn't," he retaliated, and there was no arguing with that.

"You should just let me drive."

Casey's emerald eyes widened slightly as he snapped his head in my direction for a few seconds, taking one hand off the wheel to point at me with his index finger. "Nobody. Drives. The Jeep." He focused his attention back onto the busy road (thank God) before adding, "Except for me." Boys and their cars have a bond that I personally will never understand. I also will never understand why a large percentage of the male population refer to their cars as females, but honestly, I didn't care to know the answer.

A faint smile tugged at my lips as I threw my hands out of the car to feel the wind against my skin, a sensation that I had always loved. "It's so nice out!" I mused, eyes closed and getting lost in the music that was coming out of the speakers. The song playing was Semi-Charmed Life by Third Eye Blind, and it reminded me to appreciate the love for nineties music that Casey and I both shared. All that generic pop shit the radio played over and over again was not my forte. Peaking at the passing scenery with one eye, I realized that I had absolutely no idea as the where we were. I'm not saying I didn't like getting lost with Casey, but knowing the both of us, it made me a little nervous. "Case, where are we?"

"Philadelphia," he responded casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Being from the borough of Brookville, we never got around to this part of the state much. At least, I sure as hell didn't. My parents got very concerned for my wellbeing sometimes and always went out of their way to tell me that Philadelphia was a bad city. But I had been there only once or twice with my friend Evette, but it certainly didn't seem to be as bad as they made it out to be.

"Why?"

"You said take you anywhere," Casey chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as he did so.

"Yeah, but why here?"

"I wanted a real, legitimate Philly cheese steak."

I snorted, then grimaced. "Ew."

"Don't hate on my lifestyle just because you're a veg-head," He demanded with a side-smile, shoving me in my seat with his elbow. I had been a vegetarian for a while, and while I did cheat sometimes (Can you blame me? It's hard to be a vegetarian when bacon exists), I tried as hard as I could to stick with the rules. I don't really know why I became a vegetarian. I wasn't try to watch my weight, I wasn't crazy obsessed about the fact that people kill animals for food and think it's inhumane. Then again, I did a lot of things I didn't have an explanation for. "I don't know why we're friends sometimes."

I punched him again, knowing I wouldn't even leave the slightest bruise on Casey's shoulder. My hands were small. I had no upper body strength whatsoever. Casey's frame was twice the size of mine. Hopefully we don't get in a fight somewhere in Philadelphia, because I'm going to be three hundred percent useless.

"You know, if you ate some meat every once in a while, I might actual feel you punch me."

"I hate you."

"Oh, is that why you snuck into my bedroom at three in the morning through the window? I thought you were just trying to woo me," He teased, and I punched him yet again despite his prior insult.

"I HATE YOU!" I laughed, covering my face with my hands. I clearly did not have the broadest vocabulary out there, but truth be told, that didn't bother me in the slightest.

The rest of the ride consisted of small talk and banter and more terrible singing, courtesy of Casey Daniels. As much as I loved spending time with him like this, I couldn't help but to realize how bittersweet it was. It's things like this I would miss more than anything when I was off in England and Casey remained here in Pennsylvania. I shot him a few longing side-glances in the car, wondering what his plans were. Truth was, Casey could be anything he wanted to be if he tried. But, he doesn't, and that's something I'm never going to understand. He just goes around, living his life like it's his last day, not wasting any time doing anything that he doesn't want to do. It was admirable, in a way, but it was also very confusing to somebody like me.



"How's your cheese steak?"

"Orgasmic. How's your salad?"

"Nothing spectacular."

"Want a bite of my cheese steak?"

I lifted my gaze from the iceberg lettuce on my fork to Casey's wiggling eyebrows, a playful glare forming on my face. "You're supposed to support my life choice, that's what friends do!"

Casey just shrugged and took a massive bite out of his cheese steak, which didn't even smell good. The smell of that type of steak overwhelmed me; I was the same way with sausage. Once that smell gets up into my nostrils, everything starts to taste like it. "We're not best friends."

"Then what are we?" I asked with a cocked eyebrow, slightly worried when I didn't detect sarcasm in his tone. Luckily, I had not reduced myself to a pile of nerves and embarrassed myself in a public area. Yet.

"I don't know. If we were best friends, this road trip wouldn't feel as important as it does to the both of us, you know what I mean?"

I did not have a witty comeback this time, or a sarcastic response, or an inappropriate joke to answer with. Casey Daniels had managed to leave me absolutely speechless once again. I mentally cursed myself, feeling my cheeks heat up and turning some shade of pink. I cursed myself again for never knowing how to handle an awkward situation. This one time, in third grade, I ripped my pants and instead of telling the teacher to call my mom, I took my pants off and continued with my day like nothing was going on. This, however, did end up with the teacher calling my mom - but only for her to take me out of school and give me a stern talking to about how clothes are meant to stay on my body during school hours.

My eyes wouldn't lock with Casey's, no matter how much I tried to get them to. They were stuck looking at the black plastic fork in my hands, speckled white with ranch dressing. He made a point that I hadn't really thought about while planning to do this. I told myself this trip was important because I needed to spend the last three months before I went off to another country with my best friend. But that wasn't the real, underlying reason why it was important, was it?

Just like that, the feeling I had tried so hard to ignore and repress came back, but I didn't push the thoughts away this time. I generally wasn't a bold person, no matter how hard I tried to make myself out to be, so this wave of confidence is something that I had never felt before. It was like a tsunami of emotions was terrorizing my brain and my stomach and my heart and I had to get it all out. So I did the only thing I could think of doing in that moment in time:

I stood up, learned across the table, and kissed him.

I no longer had to wonder about how his lips would feel against mine, because they fit perfectly. I no longer had to dream about what his lips tasted like, because they tasted like cheese and meat (which, I admit, sounds pretty gross. But right then, it didn't really matter). It took me a few seconds to realize what I was doing, and as soon as I did, my eyes bulged and I pulled away, avoiding his gaze.

"I...uh..."

Just tell him the truth! I argued with myself, but if I couldn't even think straight, how was I supposed to form full sentences? DAMN IT MICAH JUST TELL HIM THAT YOU LOVE HIM. Inhaling sharply, I studied Casey's features for a few moments before daring myself to lock eyes with him.

"I'm sorry."