Sand in Your Shoes

Since it was the summer, Holly's parents were never home, so the band usually hung out at her place to pass time. Even if Garrett lived down the block, he opted to stay there with Ronnie, countering that Holly needed company that meant neither Kennedy nor John, the frontman of the band.

The rest of John's family was in Europe, touring around. He couldn't tag along because of his band's concert tour, and his mom comforted him by mentioning how he'd be touring Europe for a living if the band made it as big as their label swore they'd be.

While John had a reasonable excuse to stay in Holly's house for the meantime, Kennedy just wanted to get away from his own family. He couldn't stand to stay home due to the tension his household was always in. He kept to his daily routines, though, still cooking breakfast even if he didn’t own the place. Even if he was bound to have an awkward encounter with one of the house’s inhabitants.

And that was right where he found himself, cooking pancakes using Batter Blaster as Ronnie descended the stairs.

Knowing how his 'luck' always backfired on him, he wasn't surprised. It was still July, anyway, though the last day. One more day of complete agony to withstand; he knew he could do it.

“Morning,” she greeted him, taking a seat on one of the counter stools. Holly's kitchen was nice, a counter with about five stools separating the kitchen from the dining area. It was great for serving breakfast directly from the pan.

Kennedy took his time before replying, setting a second pancake on the plate he was stacking them on. He wanted four for himself. “Hey.”

He thought about how she was always watching his every move a little bit too much. He even drove to Sedona earlier that day, trying but failing to clear his mind of her.

It was a relief to stop thinking about Lola, but while thoughts about her were painful, thoughts about Ronnie were just plain confusing. They were as bad as each other, but the thing is – he'd known Ronnie for only less than three days.

He was suddenly conscious of the silence they shared in, so he tried to make conversation with her as he blasted batter onto the pan. “I hope you like pancakes with cream cheese.” He then risked a look at her, almost flinching when he saw that same look on her face - that same look she was giving him the day before during recording. She wasn't merely looking at or watching him, she was studying him. Him and every move he made. “You can go get yourself some orange juice in the fridge,” he told her, finally thinking up a good reason to get her to stop looking at him that way. “Holly always has Minute Maid. Glasses are in the second to the leftmost cupboard from where I'm facing.”

Ronnie stood up, walking behind the counter to take a glass from the cupboard Kennedy instructed her to get from. She opened the refrigerator door, shifting the topic as soon as her face was nowhere in Kennedy’s sight. “You were M.I.A. last night, you know.”

There was another silence, the only sounds coming from the frying pan Kennedy was cooking on and the juice Ronnie was pouring into her glass. He tried his best to keep his voice low and cool. “What do you mean by M.I.A?”

Ronnie returned to the stool, awkwardly trying to tuck her short hair behind her ear. “You were missing in action.”

Kennedy finally looked at her as he finished up his third pancake, cursing his shaking hands that didn’t want to cooperate with him. He struggled for a suitable answer. All he came up with was, “I know what M.I.A. means – what I’m trying to ask is, in what way was I missing in action?”

Ronnie took her time in answering, looking anywhere but at Kennedy for the first time since they met. “John was puking like crazy for some reason at around 2 AM a while ago. Garrett and Holly were freaking out and, well, Gare told me to go wake you. You weren't there in your room, and I almost freaked out, but your shoes weren’t there and your truck wasn’t in the garage either, so I told both of them that you had a massive headache and couldn't bear to stand; they fell for it, eventually.”

Kennedy stopped flipping the pancake for a moment and stared at the girl before him. She was back to staring at him. “Thanks. I- I really appreciate you covering up for me,” he said.

So… Ronnie knew that he was out. But Kennedy assured himself that it didn’t mean she knew that he snuck out almost every other day to the place him and his ex-girlfriend used to share. It didn’t. He hoped it didn’t.

“No problem,” Ronnie replied with a shy smile. “I thought about it, whether or not to cover up for you. I realized that if I were you, sneaking out of the house without anyone knowing, I would love to have someone cover up for me, so I covered up for you.” She took a gulp of her orange juice, a voice booming from the stairs she had descended around ten minutes before.

“GOOD MORNING!” John bellowed. He smiled when he noticed Ronnie and Kennedy. “Oh! Ken, you seem to be all better. And are those burning pancakes I smell?”

“Shit!” Kennedy cursed as he took the burnt pancake off the pan with the spatula quickly. Damn. It was supposed to be his fourth pancake already.

Ronnie swiveled in her bar stool, greeting John a good morning as well.

He sat down on the stool next to her, crinkling his nose as Kennedy completed his stack of pancakes. “Man, I have a feeling this day'll be great – aside from a morning full of burnt pancakes.”

Kennedy was about to fume at him, but then he thought against it, seeing how much Ronnie wanted to decode him. All he wanted was to seem like an open book. “I have a feeling that your pessimism left you, John. Your newfound optimism can only be the cause of releasing all that vomit you had in you.”

“You finally asked me about how I felt last night! Well, Kennedy, I do feel surprisingly good.” John smirked. “Though I’m pretty sure that feeling good has more to do with Ronnie’s presence than anything else.”

Kennedy sprayed too much batter on the pan, making John yell that he wanted that pancake, bringing about a roar that came from upstairs, Garrett screaming for them to shut up.

There was a commotion that normally would’ve interested him going on, but all he could think about was that pang in his gut that formed out of the blue.

He knew it was about Ronnie, but why?