Collide

Chapter 2

Collide.

Howie Day

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When I finally got my eyes open, I had half expected to find Anthony's arms still wrapped snugly around my waist. Instead, I rolled over to reveal that the rest of my bed was cold and empty. With a sigh, I sat up and looked around the room, hoping to find some evidence of my night with Anthony. There was absolutely nothing out of place, other than what I had made a mess of on my own time.

Slowly, I dragged myself out of the bed and over to my bathroom. When I got in there, I was surprised to see that I no longer had bags under my eyes. Not like I had for the last several years. I had slept through the night without any nightmares, or terrors, or even tossing and turning. I actually looked as if I had gotten some rest. At least, that was what my boring brown eyes showed. The rest of me, on the other hand, was a train-wreck.

I reached up and pulled the rubber band from my hair, letting my brown hay-stack fall down, to where it rested on my back. I had always liked my hair longer. It made it easier for me to keep up, and braided. Though in the morning, it was always at it's worst. I wasn't surprised that Anthony had gotten up and left. I'm sure my sloppy ponytail that he had met me in was bad enough. I groaned quietly, wishing just for once that I could have been merely pretty.

I was hardly even average.

I grabbed my paddle brush and began tugging it through the knots. It began to calm down a bit and smooth out enough that I could run my fingers through it. I shook it out a bit before losing my clothes and starting my morning shower. Breathing in the steam, I knew that it was exactly what I needed after my good sleep. I stepped in and went on with my morning ritual of washing myself, my hair, then getting out and drying myself, and brushing my teeth.

Once my hair was dry, I decided to forgo the usual french braid. Instead, I got under the cabinet and found the unopened curling iron that my mother had bought me a few months prior. She said something about how I could use a little bit more pizazz if I wanted a boyfriend. I still didn't want a boyfriend �" I just felt the urge to make myself a little bit more presentable than I had the night before. So, I opened the curling iron and read the directions.

It seemed pretty self-explanatory. I walked back to my room, leaving the rod to heat up, and found what I wanted to wear. I quickly decided on a blue blouse that I had always loved and some jean capris. It was the middle of October, so I knew that some longer clothing was appropriate, but that it was still a little bit warmer than not. Plus, I had always liked the color blue.

I dressed myself and then went back to do my hair. I quickly got started, wrapping chunks of hair around the rod and then went to holding them at the top. Only when I got lazy, I hadn't considered the fact that it was probably just hot as the rest of the stupid thing, and held the hair down on top of it. My finger and brain must have been on separate pages, as it took me a moment to process the searing pain in my freshly burnt forefinger. I yelped, bouncing back from the thing, and crying out again.

The sound of Anthony coming up the stairs was almost scary. Before I knew it, he was in the same room as me, and asking me what was wrong. I just shook my head, my eyes blurring up as I looked at my finger. Anthony seemed to catch on, glancing over at the curling iron on the floor before locking his eyes on my finger. He walked in, set the curling iron on the counter, and then took my hand into his, so that he could look over my injury.

“My sister did similar things many times during high school.” He murmured, evaluating every inch of my finger. He then reached over and turned on the warmer water. I looked at him, confused because I had always heard to put your finger under cold water.

But then again, what did I know? If I had known so much, why didn't I just do that, instead of crying like a baby?

“I know. My dad's a doctor. He says that if you just put it under cold water, you'll send the burn into shock, or something. That's what makes it blister. Obviously, I'm not going to use hot water, but room temperature will stall the burning.” He evened out the water's temperature before gently putting my finger under the flow. “Now,” he spoke, reaching up into my medicine cabinet and pulling out some ointment and a band-aid. I watched as he quickly, but gently took care of it and then wrapped it up. “You should be all better now.”

I nodded at him, attempting to portray my thanks in a look. He smiled at me, and told me that I was welcome before patting my hand and turning for the door. “I'm making muffins downstairs, if you want some.”

I nodded at him again, before glancing at the mirror, knowing that I still had to do my makeup first. I hated makeup. He was just about out the door before he froze and turned around on the spot. His eyes trained on my hair, and then my face before he grinned. I felt the urge to smile back at him. It was the single dimple on his left cheek that brought this feeling on. He had one of those perfect, crooked smiles. It was practically contagious.

“By the way, you look nice.” His voice was soft, making my entire face heat up. I watched as he finished turning around and walked down the stairs, leaving me to ponder the way that he had been treating me.

Once he disappeared, I went back to putting the torture device that had burnt my finger away. I wanted nothing to do with the stupid thing, not ever again. I had it put up when I pulled my mascara and Chapstick out. I decided that since Anthony didn't seem to mind my face, that I shouldn't have either. Which is why I only applied what made me feel comfortable before cleaning up and making my way down the stairs.

I walked into the kitchen to find Anthony with his back to me. He was wearing nothing but the white t-shirt and plaid pants that he had been wearing when he came up and saved my finger. I watched as he turned the radio up, Born This Way by Lady Gaga blaring through the speakers of our radio, and began dancing.

He was a goofball, from what I could see. If it weren't for his thorough and strong reaction this morning, I would have questioned his work. I felt a smile break out on my face as he bounced around, throwing his arms around carelessly. He grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the muffins out, keeping his little dance up as he plucked the muffins out of the pan. I crossed my arms, leaning into the doorway as I watched this.

He had just gotten to the bridge, at a point to where he was singing along with it, when he turned around and saw me. Our eyes locked and his face turned pink. It was nice to see the blush on somebody else for once. He was being cute and he knew it, even through the embarrassment. I watched as he kept up dancing and danced his way right over to me.

He held his hand out to me, and I couldn't help but shake my head. He was more adamant as the song changed. Firework by Katy Perry, of course, began playing after a beat of silence. Instead of waiting, Anthony took both of my hands into his and began dancing me around the kitchen. All I could do was blush and look away from his face, where he was lip-syncing the words to me. And when I nearly tripped over his hand, he finally stopped and danced his way over to the plate of muffins.

I watched as he walked over to the island and pulled a stool out for me. I carefully climbed up and onto it. His eyes were bright as he sat the plate of muffins on the middle of the island and then pulled a stick of butter out. I waited patiently as he went to the fridge and came back with two glasses and a carton of milk. He was still singning, though his dancing had slowed as he filled the cups and then got the chocolate syrup out.

I watched as he made chocolate milk for himself. After mixing it, he looked at me questioningly, asking if I wanted some too. I bit my bottom lip, but found myself nodding at him. A song by Enrique Iglesias came on as he put everything away and then sat down across from me. He slowly turned down the radio, so that it was at a background level, and then smiled at me, telling me to take first pick out of the muffins.

“Ladies first,” he spoke, his goofy grin still as wide as ever.

I nodded, smiling awkwardly as I grabbed two of the first muffins in reach and then put them on my plate. I watched as he got his after, being much more swift with his own. After his were buttered, he took the wrapping off and bit into it. I was too busy staring at his face to remember that I was supposed to be eating with him. The realization made me blush again, and so I ducked my head, and picked up a muffin to nibble on.

“So, Gracie, I was thinking we should go out today. You know, to the boardwalk or something. I'd like to get to know you a little better.” He finally began talking after he finished his first muffin. “I know you don't really like to talk, or whatever, but I thought that maybe I could get to know you by being with you. Seeing what you like, and all that.”

I looked at him, practically scoffing. How could someone get to know someone else when only one of them were participating in the conversation?

“See. Like that. The looks on your face. You're practically an open book Miss Gray. I studied profiling anyway, so this isn't hard for me. I could tell by your little silent protesting last night that you know how to communicate. You just don't talk.” He explained everything I hadn't said and I couldn't help but nod a bit.

“So...what do you say? Would you be okay with hanging out with me today?” He asked after another beat of silence. I could tell that he was nervous too, even if he had the courage that I didn't. He didn't know how to act around me. I was weird and foreign to him. The disabled teenage girl.

Even though I knew that I shouldn't have agreed. I knew that I was only digging myself deeper into the sand that was already quick just by sitting with him. He was being way too nice. It was obvious to me that I was just another job. I was just too masochistic to give up the opportunity to get to know this man.

I nodded at him, no longer fighting the smile that he was evoking from me.

“Good. I think it should only take me twenty minutes to get ready. And then we can both go.” He told me, finishing up a fourth muffin. I was only on my second.

After he finished, he told me that he would meet me down in the foyer. I finished the food and then cleaned up the kitchen. Once everything was in it's own right place, I turned and went up to my room to grab some shoes.

I walked out of my room at the same time that Anthony did his. He was now dressed in a blue button-down shirt, tucked into a pair of clean, dark-wash jeans. I looked down at my own apparel, noting how well we matched. I giggled, looking back up at his confused face. He smiled slightly, but I could see in his eyes that he didn't know what I was laughing at. So, I took three steps forward and patted his shirt, and then my own.

His eyes slowly ran down my body, and I felt my face grow warm. I knew that he was just doing what I had instructed him to, but that didn't make things less awkward. He slowly raked his emerald green orbs back up to my own brown eyes and smiled, nodding. I pursed my lips and rocked on my heel, wondering if I was just being a dork or not.

“We match. The look is much better on you, I must say.” He held his arm out and I tentatively linked my own with his.

We walked down the stairs and out to my garage. He held the passenger door to what looked like a silver BMW open. I carefully sat down and looked around. My mother drove a BMW as well �" only hers was much bigger and bright red. My father just chose to flaunt his police-cruiser. I didn't have a car �" my parents were afraid that I was just going to run off for good. They should have expected as much, as they left me here with no car.

Did they expect my body-guard to play soccer-mom and drive me everywhere too?

I sighed and buckled my seat-belt. Anthony looked at me curiously as he backed out of the garage, double-checking that he had locked it. I just shook my head and turned to look out the window. I knew that I wasn't doing myself any favors by being so passive-aggressive, but I didn't know what else to do.

It wasn't as if I could just tell him how I felt.

We drove down to the pier in town. Anthony went around and opened my door for me before hooking his arm with mine, and leading me on my way.

We spent the afternoon riding things and sitting on the dock. Anthony forced me to ride everything, even the rides that mad me practically cry. He said something about how I needed to really experience it, because it was just wrong to live so close to a place like that and not go there. So, I experienced it all with him.

We went and got lunch at little diner next to it, right down the strip. Anthony and I both got a sandwich and and fries to eat out on the bench. He talked to me about how he went on vacation when he was younger and how they found a place just like this in Texas. He said that being there with me brought the memories back, and made him happy because he had made new memories, with new people.

I wasn't sure what to think of him. He was just so nice to me. He considered my thoughts and feelings before he said and did anything. And though I knew that it was inevitable, he managed to make it look as if he didn't think I was handicapped. He treated me just like any other girl. He treated me like any other well-respected girl, and it felt incredibly nice. It was completely nerve-wracking in an all-too-good way that I thought I was going to miss out on in life.

Anthony huffed and I looked up, seeing two girls seated on the bench across from us. I knew them. Karen DioGuardi and Mary Smith were in my class, at Concord High. Karen's ice-blues were locked on me, while it looked like Mary was busy fawning over the hunk seated beside me. Anthony looked at Karen though, and it was obvious that he was far from checking her out. In fact, it was that same look that my dad gave the hooligans in town right before he went over and questioned their where abouts.

He then slowly looked back at me. Karen sneered at me, and then whispered something to Mary. They both burst out laughing and stood, turning to walk away. Anthony looked back at them, and then me before sighing.

“I'm assuming that you know those two.” He sighed, running his hand through his already messy hair. “And that you guys aren't exactly on good terms?”

I looked at him now, and pursed my lips. Slowly, I let my head nod up and down. I didn't know how to tell him that those girls made my schooling hell. I didn't know how to tell him that they were the reason that I wouldn't have minded home-schooling. Those girls were very much a possible cause towards my incapability of talking. Because I didn't have the words, I ended up just nodding even harder and then looking away.

“You don't like them...well, I can understand why. They look like a bunch of bimbos who know nothing better than how to bully someone who is way above them.” He muttered and I frowned, wondering how the rest of the world went completely oblivious to them when this man had figured them out with all of one look.

He took a profiling class. Right.

“They don't pick on you, do they?” He asked and I shrugged. I hated that he saw right through me as well. I knew that a mind-reader could have been a good thing, given my situation. Yet, I did not want this man seeing everything I felt. He would be out the door running a lot faster than he already would have been.

“Gracie! You should tell someone. Don't let these girls torment you!” He looked astounded, and I rolled my eyes. What was so shocking? What kid with a problem goes to high school and is loved by everyone? Nobody, is what I would have told him. Not a single kid. He sighed and shook his head. “I don't understand the high schoolers' mindset. There's nothing wrong with you. The only thing that's different about you is that you don't shoot your freaking mouth off like those other brats.”

I looked at him, curious about what he meant. I didn't understand why he was...so caring. What made this beautiful, older, kind, smart man care about boring Gracie Gray? He had known me for all of two days and he was already treating me as if we were long-time friends. A friend was something that I had never really had. It was all weird to me and I didn't know what to think of it.

I just hoped that something would make sense in time.

After our lunch, we ended up walking and window-shopping. Anthony was curious about the things that drew me in, and the things that I wanted or had. I felt the same about him, only I had no way of asking him. Instead, I tried to learn through his actions, just as he was through me. It was a nice change for me.

By the time that the sun was setting, a beautiful gold on the horizon, Anthony and I made our way back to his BMW. He helped me in and drove us home. I smiled as the song We Are Young by Fun played. Anthony turned it up and grinned at me before belting out with the song. Although I couldn't find my voice to sing with him, I lip-synced just as he had that morning. It was the second best thing, was was above what I had been used to anyway.

I smiled at him as we pulled into my garage. He turned so that he could see me and smiled too.

“I had fun today, Gracie Gray.” He grinned ear-to-ear.

I nodded back at him, and I actually meant it.

I had fun.

Reviews

[selkietales]

"I didn't have a car - my parents were afraid that I was just going to run off for good. They should have expected as much, as they left me here with no car." This is repetitive.
"It was the second best thing, was was above what I had been used to anyway." I don't understand this sentence.
"Even though I knew that I shouldn't have agreed." Sentence fragment.
Otherwise, nice story :)