Under the Water

Chelsea heard her cellphone ding, signaling that she had received a text message. She was lounging on her bed, having woken up from an unusually long five hour nap about an hour ago, and now was watching a news channel. She reached over lazily to grab her phone off of the night stand and read the alert, saying she had one new text at two fourteen from an unknown number.

She opened the message and a smile instantly appeared on her face.

“Hey it's Toby,” it began, “Still okay for 4:30? I got a reservation at Valley Inn and then figured we'd see a movie.”

Dinner and a movie actually sounded more like a date to Chelsea than just hanging out like he had previously stated. Actually, to almost anyone, dinner and a movie was a date. Chelsea felt her stomach begin to churn uncomfortably. She set her phone next to her on the bed and sat up, taking in a slow, deep breath.

“You can keep it friendly,” she mumbled to herself closing her eyes as she tried to rid herself of the nerves she felt. After a moment she grabbed her phone again, opening her eyes to reply to Toby.

“That sounds good.” She paused after that, wanting to ask him, since their “hangout” was now technically a “date”, what she should wear but didn't want to risk that being awkward. She sighed and pressed the send button without adding anything to the message. Then she began doing some math in her head. She had roughly two hours and fifteen minutes to get ready and meet Toby down the street under the patio where they had met. Normally, getting ready that early seemed excessive to her, but as she continued planning things out in her head, she realized that if she was as picky as she was thinking herself to be, she needed to get out of bed and start getting ready.

She dragged herself out of the bed, walking to the television to turn it off before walking to the bathroom to shower. She didn't feel dirty, all she did was lounge around all day in the air conditioning drinking coffee or watching TV. The only thing she had with her that could act like a perfume was body wash, however, and that called for a shower. She had to dig through her suitcases to find it, surprised she had even packed it in the first place. The only time she had used it was when she and Caleb would go on dates-

Chelsea stopped herself suddenly, leaning back on her knees as she grabbed the Vanilla and Sandalwood body wash. A deep breath filled her lungs while mentally telling herself to keep him out of her mind tonight, unless she wanted things to end horribly.

She stood up then, determined to keep busy and undressed, avoiding her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The shower was very routine for her, first washing her hair, leaving the conditioner in as she washed her body (twice because she really wanted the scent to stick and not just wash away). Chelsea then washed out her hair before shaving as she let her long blonde locks begin to dry.
Before she got out of the shower, she made sure to wrap a towel around her body, then pulling on a sweater over the towel to avoid seeing herself. She didn't think herself to be fat, or too skinny. She didn't much care about that anymore. She was nearly five foot nine and under one hundred thirty pounds. All that sugar in her coffee wasn't just good for keeping her awake longer, it also helped her keep weight on when she wasn't eating or her stomach was too sensitive to hold much anything down from anxiety, whether it was healthy or not.

What she did care about, however were the vast array of scars across her body, the causes ranging from abuse, to self harm, to surgery. There was always the stray few she could never cover up, like the cigarette burns behind her ears and on the back of her neck, the shallow scar across the left side of her neck and the long surgery scar on her left shin, or the same kind of scar on her left shoulder. She figured that's the reason scar creams and ointments were invented however, and that's what she did after getting out of the shower, anything visible she put the creams on and left the excessive amounts to dry and absorb into her pale skin.

After she applied her makeup, going back and forth on how much and what kind to apply. She eventually decided that she needed to dig through her luggage again for her foundation and powder, figuring it would also help cover the scars, but decided to stick with her black eyeliner and mascara, and dark eye shadows. After the makeup she used the cheap blow dryer in the bathroom, attempting to curl the ends of her long blonde hair with an old round brush.

She got dressed last, half due to the scar ointments and half because she still didn't know what to wear. She had thrown whatever clothes she had with her onto her bed and attempted to put together something that classified as both causal and dressy. She heard her phone ding again, and walked over to where she had left it, back on the bedside table. It was another text from the same unknown number Toby had text from. She opened it, hoping that whatever he said could give her a hint as to what to wear. What she read instead shocked her.

“I'm leaving now, you ready Chels?” he asked and she quickly checked the time, realizing that it was already well past four, and she had just under fifteen minutes to get to the patio.

“Shit,” she mumbled, quickly texting back an “I am,” accompanied with a winking emoticon, before throwing her phone on the bed and grabbing the first dress she saw. It had black and white small horizontal stripes, was sleeveless and had a band of black lace across the natural waist. She pulled it over her head, before searching for her pair of nude fishnets and then decided to wear her boots with it. They weren't full out combat boots, but they also weren't those ridiculous thigh high boots with ten inch heels she saw some girls wear. They almost reminded her of what biker chicks would wear, and they added an “edgy” look to her dress and fishnets. She grabbed a black cardigan to wear over the dress to cover the scars on her arms and shoulder as well.

Right before leaving she took a glance at herself in the full length mirror near the exit and wondered if Toby would think this was weird. She figured that it was too late to second guess herself, making sure she had her phone, key, and wallet on her as she left her motel room. She took the stairs two at a time down to the ground level and thanked her long legs for getting her to the patio on time, but only to find it deserted as usual.

She pulled her phone from her cardigan pocket, watching the time change from four thirty to four thirty-one and noted that Toby hadn't yet replied to her. She put the phone back into her pocket and tried to remember what Toby had said when he mentioned he lived near by. She didn't sit down at one of the tables, instead she stood on the edge of the sidewalk, watching cars pass and wondering which one was Toby. As she was looking up the street, shielding her eyes from the sun, she watched a shadow near her and stop.

“Wow, he's late isn't he?” She heard a familiar voice ask and whipped her head around to find Toby standing next to her, wearing a dark purple button up, dark wash jeans and red sneakers.

“How long were you waiting here before letting me know you were here?” Chelsea asked, folding her arms across her chest but couldn't help the inevitable smile forming.

“Honestly, I just got here. I promise,” Toby admitted, smiling himself and shoving his hands into his jean pockets. “You look good, by the way,” he stated, looking her up and down, immediately easing her mind about the way she had dressed.

“Thanks, you too,” Chelsea replied, making Toby's smile even bigger that it was.

“Are you ready to go?” Toby asked her, nodding his head in the opposite direction in which she was previously looking for him.

“Yeah,” she agreed and began to walk with him.

“I had to park a few buildings down, I didn't want to pull up in traffic and make you dive into my car,” Toby explained as they walked down the street to a nearby parking lot.

“Well thanks for that, I'd probably panic,” Chelsea said, noting that Toby had thought she was joking when she wasn't. “Can I tell you something?” She asked after a few more seconds, following him into the parking lot.

“You can tell me anything, except that my hair looks bad, because it took forever to get it right today,” Toby joked, smiling back at her.

“No, your hair looks awesome, but...” she said as Toby led her up to his car, a white convertible BMW. The convertible fact might even make her anxiety worse. “I've kind of got a problem with cars.”

“What do you mean?” Toby asked, his face immediately falling into a confused frown, wondering if for some reason she didn't approve of him or his vehicle.

“I'm not very good in cars,” she began, trying to make him understand without having to mention Caleb.

“You get car sick?” Toby asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning on his car.

“No, I just... had a bad accident once and it kind of scarred me,” literally. Chelsea spoke carefully, observing the inside of his car and trying not to imagine having an accident in it. “I probably should have told you before-”

“Naw, I get it,” Toby stopped her, smiling again. “I promise, I'm a good driver,” he said, opening the passenger door for her. “The restaurant's pretty much a straight shot up Ventura, and the theater is practically across the street. It's not much driving and I promise I'll drive like an old man,” Toby winked, convincing her to take the passenger seat. As she did she noticed various scratches on the door and immediately thought of Gryphon.

Toby walked around the front of his car and then got in the driver's seat, pulling his keys out of his pocket, and immediately started up his car. He was true to his word, driving extremely careful, both to avoid erratic driving that might scare Chelsea and to avoid other drivers from being worse than they already were, somehow making everybody happy.

A few minutes later Toby had puled into the restaurant's parking spaces, saying, “See? Not that bad, huh?”

Chelsea silently thought to herself that even though he was careful her hands were still clammy and shaking. “Nope. You are a good driver,” she admitted, noticing that Toby did all he could and she was still scared that someone would crash into them.

Toby smiled cockily, turning off his car's engine and said, “Hold on, I'll get your door.”

“Such a gentleman,” Chelsea forced herself to smile, trying not to make it obvious that she was wiping the dampness off of her hands before he made it to her door. She unbuckled as he made his way around and then opened the door for her like he said, helping her out as well before closing the car door behind her.

“Is this place good?” Chelsea asked, noting that the restaurant was a bit smaller than she had thought it would be.

“It's the fanciest place I know that's close by and not Asian food,” Toby admitted, walking with her to the front door.

“Why not Asian food?” Chelsea questioned stopping and waiting for Toby who moved to open the door to the restaurant.

“I know from experience to never take a girl out for Asian food on a first date,” Toby winked, holding the door open for her like a gentleman. Chelsea felt her stomach twist from a rising anxiety while she walked into the restaurant, waited for Toby to enter before following him to the person by the door in charge of greeting customers and seating them.

“Hi, reservation for two. Under Tobuscus,” Toby told the man, as he looked along the list of names he hand.

Chelsea shut her eyes, trying not to laugh at what Toby had done, but before she could say anything, the waiter spoke first. “Toby? Toby Turner?” he asked and Chelsea opened her eyes to witness a completely shocked waiter.

“D-Daniel?” Toby asked, visibly leaning down to read the guy's name tag.

“Dude, oh my God,” the waiter suddenly said, his hands running through his hair, with an expression screaming astonishment. “I'm-I'm such a huge fan of yours, man,” the waiter admitted.

“I'm glad to hear that buddy,” Toby smiled widely at his fan's reaction, “I love meeting fans.”

“Oh man, my friends won't believe this really happened,” the waiter laughed, nearly acting like a fan girl to her favorite pop singer. “Who's this fine damsel?” he the asked, noticing Chelsea, as if for the first time. She couldn't help her mouth dropping, immediately over flattered and she looked away, trying not to laugh.

“Her name's Chelsea,” Toby said, watching her reaction and thoroughly enjoying himself. “Gryphon told me to take her out to dinner since most restaurants don't allow dogs,” he joked and both he and Daniel the waiter laughed.

“Oh, Chelbuscus,” Daniel smiled at her.

“Hi,” Chelsea forced herself to reply.

“Let me show you two to your table, huh?” he then asked, mostly speaking to Toby.

“Sweet,” Toby said and rested his hand on Chelsea's back, letting her follow first. Chelsea had to fight the urge to jump away from the gentle contact, repeatedly telling herself that she could trust Toby. She wasn't sure if he still noticed the small jump or not, and really hoped he didn't.

Dinner went surprisingly well for the two. The service was astounding, and Chelsea figured that it was only because half of the people working at the time at least knew who Toby was. They even got free drinks and desert because Toby agreed to take a few pictures with the cooks and signed a cloth napkin for the restaurant to hang. It was very strange behavior to Chelsea, watching these people treat Toby like he was an A list celebrity, when she didn't know who he was a week ago. Chelsea was thankful, in the least, that her stomach hadn't become too upset after the car ride so she could actually eat all the food the restaurant had provided.

Somehow Toby's planning was so precise, that by the time Chelsea and him left the restaurant and drove to the ArcLight Theater (which really was pretty much across the street) they had exactly enough time to buy candy, have Toby say hi to some more fans, get good seats in the theater, and work out who got to eat which colored skittles just before the previews began. Chelsea hadn't quite agreed with Toby's choice of film, but didn't want to complain since he was paying for everything. Chelsea never did very good in horror films, whenever she watched them on a TV or in a theater. She even remembered having a panic attack the first time she watched Paranormal Activity, and ended up meeting with paramedics outside of the theater.

This movie, The Conjuring, was almost as bad for her, and not even half way through she was gripping the end of her arm rest with white knuckles, while trying to look normal for Toby. She didn't expect Toby to be trying to work up enough courage to try and hold her hand, however. The gesture had worked for him before, take a girl to a horror flick, wait until she's scared and then move to hold her hand. Except this time with Chelsea things went horribly wrong. He barely brushed his hand against hers and then proceeded to watch as she nearly jumped out of her seat, stifling a yelp with her other hand. He didn't know that she had this kind of reaction normally when touched, attributing it to the movie and not having noticed before in the restaurant.

“I'm sorry,” she began to apologize to him, her hand still covering her mouth when she began.
“I'm sorry,” Toby whispered back to her, still quite shocked but smiling at her none the less. “I didn't think I'd scare you,” he told her before they both shut up, before someone complained to them.

Chelsea felt her heart racing, still, keeping her hand over her chest and tried not to focus on the movie, and focus on evening out her breathing. Instead, the only thing she could focus on was what Toby had done, and realizing what he was aiming for. She looked over to him, only slightly turning her head to see him sitting with both of his hands folded in his lap, his shoulders slouched and his lips slightly frowning at the screen.

Regret suddenly coursed through Chelsea, filling her stomach and she felt horrible disappointing Toby. She felt horrible disappointing anyone, though she realized that if she tried doing the same thing to him and succeeded in making him happy again, she wouldn't hear the end of it from herself later that night. She was surprised that she had the strength to do what she was about to do to Caleb. Immediately shoving him out of her mind again, Chelsea closed her eyes and reaching forward for Toby's knee.

Her hand settled there gently, while her mind completely lost the movie and only knew about Toby. Her hand was there for a few moments, letting her stomach twist uncomfortably before she watched his hand gently fall on top of hers. She immediately opened her eyes back to the movie screen, almost feeling Toby look over to her while his thumb gently caressed her knuckles. She was afraid to look back at him until she felt his hand leave hers.

“C'mere,” he whispered to her, lifting up the arm rest so she could scoot closer to him and finally Chelsea looked over. She was hesitant but still advanced, moving towards him until their bodies were right next to each other in the seats. He hung his right arm around her shoulders, pulling her further onto him and letting her lean her head against his shoulder. She had her left hand on his thigh now, and was even bold enough to reach up with her right hand and hold his left. All at the same time, Chelsea couldn't understand what her body was telling her. She liked this, to actually feel someone again, but at the same time it wasn't that certain someone. He wasn't coming back however, and Toby was here now. Chelsea just didn't understand herself, and for the rest of the movie, while snuggled into Toby, she couldn't sort out her feelings.