Wishes on Birthday Cake Candles

I stared at Brendon strangely. Was he just kidding or was he serious? How could I be sure?

"Umm, well I better wait for my Dad," I replied.

Brendon nodded. "If he doesn't come in ten minutes, I'll take you home."

"Oh, thanks," I answered, nodding slowly.

Brendon gave me a curt nod back and leaned against the wall, exhaling. The wind swept lightly at his dark hair as we stood beside the school. It was like one of those scenes in the movies. You know, the one where they try to make the male actor look so, well, perfect.

Brendon looked like a god at that moment. His arms were crossed and he had one of his legs propped against the wall. His bangs partially covered one of his butterscotch eyes. I could see his soft peach lips moving, just barely, as if he was talking to himself. If I hadn't been less than a foot away from him, I probably would have drooled at the sight.

Sure enough, my Dad didn't come in ten minutes. I tried calling him on his phone, but there was no answer. Way to go, Bob.

"Want a ride?" Brendon asked as I shoved my phone roughly into my jean's pocket.

"Sure," I answered.

Brendon nodded and started walking in the direction of the back parking lot. Barely anyone used it, since a lot of people hated being there. It wasn't the prettiest of sights. The back parking lot was surrounded by a tall, cement wall. A few gang names were printed on it by various shades of spray paint. There was seldom grass, and when there was some, it was dead.

"Do your parents pick you up?" I asked Brendon.

"No," he stated.

I cocked my head to the side. "Then how are you giving me a ride?"

Brendon ignored my question and walked over to a tall bush. He climbed into it and a few seconds later, appeared. He grasped the handles of a small, black moped. Brendon grabbed a helmet and tossed it to me, starting up the moped.

"Um, where's your helmet?" I asked.

"In your hands. It should be on your head," Brendon said as he climbed on.

"Oh," I replied.

I placed the helmet onto my head as he instructed and buckled it. With a bit of fear, I climbed behind Brendon onto the moped and gulped. Brendon revved the engine.

"You ready?" he asked.

"Not really," I replied.

Brendon ignored my statement and raced out of the back parking lot. I hastily wrapped my arms around his waist and felt my face go bright red. When he surged us forward onto a street, a small scream emitted from my lips. Brendon's frame shook a little; I knew he was laughing.

It didn't take long to get to my house. When we did, Brendon got off and helped me off, also. I took off the helmet shakily.

"You alright?" Brendon questioned.

I nodded quickly, but was shaking like a leaf. Brendon smiled at me and shook his head.

"I thought you'd be a tough girl, Josie," he said.

"I am, I was just surprised," I said defensively.

"Hm, maybe tough wasn't the right word." Brendon said. "Stubborn sounds about right."

I rolled my eyes. Just as I began to walk towards my house, Brendon grabbed my arm. It sent shivers down my spine. Luckily, Brendon didn't notice. I turned my head to him, my muscles tensing.

"I'm sorry," Brendon said.

After a second of staring, I finally gave in. "It's alright."

Brendon gave me a tiny smile and began walking back to his old moped. When he got on, I called out his name. His tiny smile slowly changed into a lopsided grin when I said his name.

"Yes?" he replied.

"Thanks," I said.

Brendon nodded once. "No problem. I'll see you tomorrow."

And with a kick, Brendon began riding off down my street. I smiled and looked down at the ground, blushing like a little kid.

"See you," I whispered.

And just then, the moment was broken. The front door of my house swung open, revealing a panic stricken Bob. He rushed out to me and hugged me tightly, swinging me around.

"I'm so sorry, Jose!" Bob exclaimed.

"It's fine," I replied softly, looking down our street.

Bob's eyebrows furrowed. "What's up with you?"

"Was that a motorcycle I saw?" Frank exclaimed from the front porch of my house.

"Maybe," I replied.

Frank laughed and threw a fist into the air. He ran back into the house, shouting at someone that he had been correct. As dad and I walked back into the house, I chuckled to myself.

"It was actually a moped."