by CJ Adler
“Are you trying to flirt with me?” he asks uncertainly. This time, he's the one who seems uncomfortable.
I wish I knew.
“Uhm, no,” I say lamely. “Not that you're not worthy of flirting with because you are...” I falter and eventually decide to stop talking.
He opens his mouth to speak but closes it again as if speechless. I can't really blame him. I didn't leave room in the conversation for much more to be said. Next thing you know, I might just end up proposing to him.
My gaze trails when I hear a bell ringing. I follow the sound to the front counter where the Asian man is holding a bubblegum ice cream in his hands. There are no sprinkles this time.
I smile brightly and skip over to him with enthusiasm. “Thank you very very very much!” I chirp as Bella hands him the money, a goofy grin still plastered on her face in mockery. She won't let me live this one down.
“Simo, is there a problem here? This lady says there is,” the actual manager asks his worker.
The fat man, known as Simo, shakes his head in response, a grin still cemented onto his face. “She no like sprinkle,” he says in such a way that I have a feeling that he's mocking me without me knowing.
The manager turns his dreamy blue eyes to me as a result. “You don't like sprinkles?” he questions. I shake my head, deciding it's best to just shut up. He smiles as he ponders over it. “Huh? That's new.”
Before I can respond, he gets a phone call and walks outside as if to answer it in private. I lick my ice cream happily and walk back to Bella who is taunting me with her bubbly grin. “Don 't even comment,” I say all too quickly , hoping she'll heed the warning.
She smiles wickedly at me. “Wasn't going to because you're perfect and I love you.”
“I hate you,” I mutter playfully and anchor myself away from her. I move so that I'm standing a foot away from the exit, my back to it and my face towards Bells as I send her a sharp glare.
“Love you too.” She laughs and drops the subject. “You know, you're the only crazy one who's in the store buying an ice cream in the middle of winter. In fact, if we weren't here, the store would be empty,” she informs me to which I merely shrug. Guilty as charged. “Oh, and that fat kid,” she adds thoughtfully.
I scowl at her for mentioning him because if I ever see that kid again, it'll be at his funeral.
The ice cream is far better than I thought it would ever be. It's genuinely the best I've ever had and although I say that every time, this time, I mean it...I think. It's like I'm floating on a cloud, walking on sunshine, wings beneath my feathers and all that cheesy stuff. I'm in heaven.
“Come on.” I pull Bella along by the forearm. “Let's get out of here,” I say in a rush, wanting to leave before the hot, manager dude returns. I've embarrassed myself enough for one day.
I spin back around in speed and end up turning into what could possibly be the death of me, or perhaps, the beginning of my story.
Out of nowhere, I bump into someone and spill the delicious contents of my ice cream all over a leather jacket. I momentarily freeze, infuriated because the idiot got in my way, or maybe because I got in his way. Just as I open my mouth to have my say, I see who it is and stop short in my tracks. Instead of yelling, I blurt out the next couple of words on impulse. “Your eyes are the same color as bubblegum!” To make yourself look like a complete moron in front of anyone is something, but to make a fool out of yourself in front of Jay Taylor is another thing altogether. I know who he is, same high school and all, but our paths haven't really crossed until now.
He lifts his face to see who just bumped into him, his electric blue eyes zeroing in on me in irritation. “Just great. Why do klutzes always run into me?” he mumbles to himself as if having an 'off' day. His eyes meet mine in a narrowed glare. “And it just has to be all over my leather jacket.“
No one messes with Jay, mostly because he's intimidating. He rarely talks to anyone. He has no label, and I've always found him to be a little frightening. It's why I quickly find myself swallowing all the insults I was just about to dish his way.
I'm about to drop it, but it's when he says his next sentence that I explode like a ticking time bomb.
“Bubblegum out of all flavors? Really?” he asks with one eyebrow raised as he interrogates me on not only my choice of flavor but my way of life. “I hate bubblegum,” he mutters under his breath as he shakes his head at me in disdain.
He turns to walk away, but, being my impulsive self, I just have to yell out in fury after him. “And I hate you!”
He stops dead in his tracks. I gulp fearfully. He turns to face me head-on with a deadpanned glare. It slowly dawns on me that maybe I should have kept my big mouth shut. I could have gotten off scot-free.
“Aqueela, what are you getting yourself into?” Bell whispers from beside me when I refuse to stand down.
“He just told me that he doesn't like bubblegum and you want me to sit here and pretend like it's not a felony?” I ask loudly, making sure that the supposed rebel himself hears.
Before Bell can reply, Jay takes a step forward, bridging the distance between us. As much as I want to flee, I refuse to give him that kind of satisfaction. His bubblegum colored eyes narrow as a lopsided grin makes its way onto his lips, almost as if he's amused by my hardheadedness.
He leans in closer. “First off, you're standing, not sitting. Second, it's not a felony to hate bubblegum but it is a felony to destroy someone else's property, and that includes my jacket, as in my property.”
I take a step back in cowardice, and it seems to only amuse him further. I watch as he takes off his jacket and flings it over my face. “Clean it up, Klutz, and bring it to me tomorrow. Same place, same time.” He winks before taking slow, cautious steps back in order to see my reaction as I remove his stupid jacket from my awesome face.
He grins before saluting me and then finally turns around and retreats.
“Klutz?” Bell questions in horror, wide-eyed from beside me.
“It's not going to become a thing.” I reassure myself in confidence.
She laughs in doubt. “Oh, it's definitely going to be a thing, Klutz,” she says confidently as she leaves me standing alone in the middle of the ice cream store with an empty ice cream cone and a bubblegum covered jacket.
Chapter 2
Kicking it up a Notch
“Infuriating, dimwitted, obnoxious, annoying, mean person,” I grumble under my breath as I scrub the jacket as hard as I can. I've been scrubbing it for hours on end, even though the blue mess came out long ago. I need to take my anger out on something, especially if I cannot take it out on someone.
I'll tell you what, this leather is resilient.
I glance at Bells, blowing a few stray blonde hairs out of my face. “He's just lucky, you know,” I express myself, fed up.
Bell groans aloud and throws her face into her hands. “Ugh, I hate it when you get like this,” she whines, already predicting what's coming next.
I ignore her and continue rattling away. “He's just lucky that I held myself back, that I have so much self-control. I restrained myself. If I didn't, then who knows what would have happened to him. The few loved ones he might have would probably be attending his funeral right now. He's just lucky is all.”
“Or what? You'd pummel him to a pulp?” Bells asks smugly, not expecting me to immediately agree to it as she continues to paint her toe-nails a vibrant pink.
All the while, she watches me willingly torment myself with Jay’s stupid jacket, not bothering to question my actions once. She's used to my shenanigans.
“Exactly, now you're catching on.” I nod profusely and then click my fingers as an imaginative light bulb hovers over my head—an idea generating and starting to take a dangerous form in my mind.
“No, no, no! I know that facial expression all too well, and my answer is still no,” Bell protests.
I ignore her and proceed in telling her my plans anyway. “I'm going to shrink his jac
ket and dye it pink...by mistake, of course,” I add the last part thoughtfully, only to earn a disappointed look from her in return.
“I am so not getting involved in this. He will tear you to pieces. Have you forgotten who he is?” she asks me, shaking her head profusely as if to prove that she wants nothing to do with it. “He's a jerk.”
“I'm sorry, Bells, but...” I pause dramatically, building up suspense, “you're in too deep as it is. There's no backing out now,” I tell her as I take the black jacket out of the bucket of water and bring it to my nose. “How is it that I have been scrubbing away for hours, so much so that my nails are drenched in sweat and blood, yet still his scent manages to remain intact?” I question in childlike wonder.
“And his scent bothers you because?” she asks, amused.
I breathe in his scent and sigh dreamily. “It smells so good, so minty and fresh. In fact, suffice to say, I think I'm in love.”
“You barely know him,” Bell reminds me with a roll of her eyes. “In fact, I don't think anyone knows him. He tends to keep to himself.”
I laugh at her foolishness. “I'm not in love with him,” I clarify. “I'm in love with his natural scent. It's heavenly,” I say and sniff the jacket again before Bella snatches it from my hands.
“Cut it out, you stalker,” she teases before leaning back to mock me, only to accidentally bump her nail polish bottle over.
The pink liquid spills out onto the jacket. She gasps in panic when it stains pink over the black. I grin to myself when she begins to rub at his jacket frantically. “Crud, crud, crud!” she curses in fear while I sit back calmly and watch my nonexistent plan fall into place.
“Now you really are in too deep, Bells.” I laugh at her expense.
“I hate you,” she states, under pressure, as she continues rubbing strenuously.
“Can't hate what you never loved.” I 'tsk' her before grabbing the jacket from her hands. “Have you never heard of 'dab, don't rub'?!” I hiss playfully.
She wipes her face and glowers at me. “Yeah, I have, it's similar to 'say it, don't spray it'.”
“Time to put phase one into action.” I gather my troops, which consists of Bells alone. “If he wants to hate on bubblegum, then he's got another thing coming.” I grin cunningly and turn back to my friend. “Also, you've already ruined it so why not ruin it in style?”
3 hours and 21 minutes later...
“I cannot believe you convinced me to participate in this,” Bella says in horror as she holds up the jacket that has since been shrunk and dyed pink.
“Say it.” I smirk in all my smugness, having won the battle. “Say what?” Bella frowns knowingly.
“You know what.” I wiggle my eyebrows tauntingly.
“You are an idiot,” she replies back with a scoff. “Bella! You're ruining it.” I complain.
She huffs in irritation. “Ugh, fine, you're an evil genius.” She reluctantly complies and then glares at me for making her say it.
“Why thank you,” I say and curtsy for some reason beyond me, to which Bell scrunches up her eyebrows and shakes her head, indicating that it is still a 'no- no' action. “You know, you shouldn't have,” I add insult to injury, being my humble self.
“You made me,” she mutters under her breath aggressively.
I cup a hand to my ear mockingly. “Sorry, love, what was that? I didn't quite
“Nothing, just that you shouldn't be so modest,” she retorts sarcastically. “Bells, time?” I ask, trying to defuse my excitement. I can't wait to see his face. It should be entertaining to see him flip out over his beloved jacket.
She checks her watch for me. “We might as well leave now. He said same time, didn't he?”
I nod. “That he did.”
“Then we leave now, and so help me, I mean, you, if he tries to kill you. I am not helping you, nor am I responsible for planning your funeral or burying you. I will, however, write you a great eulogy.” She pauses as a deceitful thought enters her mind. “Oooh! And I want all your funky hats for me—” she catches herself and trails off when I give her an impatient glance, not really surprised that she's already planned out my entire death. “Memories! For memories, of course. That's totally what
I meant.”
Nice save!
I roll my eyes and grab her hand as I tug her after me. “I will leave my hat collection to you in my will, that's if you outlive me.” I grin cheekily as we step out of her house and embark on a journey towards the incredible ice cream shop that has made quite a mystical impression on me.
It's a habit of mine to collect and wear all different kinds of colorful and vibrant hats—from beanies to caps to berets, and last but not least, my personal favorite, my wacky self-made ribbon hat. Bells doesn't allow me to wear it in public.
Upon nearing the store, I sprint the rest of the way. Excitement and fear mix within my stomach at the apprehension swarming through my veins. However, my face falls when I see that he’s not there.
“Are we early or something?” I question, at a loss.
“No, nope, we are actually ten minutes late.” Bell heaves, having sprinted after me.
“Stupid loser is not pitching,” I mutter under my breath and run a hand through my blonde waves, my current blue beanie almost slipping right off at the action. I'm never caught dead without some form of a hat—it's just my trademark.
“You talking about me again?” a velvety voice says from somewhere behind me. I turn around, only to be sucked into endless pools of blue.
It's the manager. Fantastic! Maybe I can redeem myself, or maybe I can
further thrust myself into the brink of no return where my embarrassment will haunt me for ages.
“No!” I answer too quickly, my heart leaping out of my chest as the manager, about twenty-one years of age, stares down at me expectantly, awaiting an answer. “I-I w-was...just...never mind.” I sigh in hopelessness and give up.
He laughs at my expense, pegging me down for a lost cause, before turning to greet Bella. “Hey.”
“Hi!” she chirps overconfidently, giving me a devious smile when he isn't looking. She kicks it up a notch and wags her eyebrows playfully as if to insinuate something.
The guy is way out of my league. I'm too weird, or so I've been told countless of times by many people. Nonetheless, I'm convinced the world will stop spinning without us weirdos.
Bells is the sane, beautiful one between us two. Just about every person we come across stops to sneak a glance at the angel that is my best friend. Her impressive height, clear turquoise eyes, tan skin, and brown curls make her absolutely stunning— like some Swiss model.
I'm a basket case. I've accepted that. Thus, I'm going to marry food. Food can never hurt you...unless you burn your tongue on it, which in that case, the ones you love most tend to hurt you the most.
Suddenly, Bella nudges me in the ribs, and I jolt in pain. I glare up at her to see her motioning with her eyes to the manager. I follow her gaze to see that he's talking to me.
Uh-oh. I zoned out again.
“So are you going to write that down or what?” he asks.
“Or what?” I repeat like an idiot, having no clue what he was just rambling on about.
He laughs and shakes his head in amusement. “Never mind, I'll do it for you.”
I raise an eyebrow and watch as he takes out a pen from his pocket. He asks Simo for a piece of paper and then quickly jots something down before handing me the paper. I stare down at the paper and digits blankly, lost.
“Give me a call.” He winks before walking off.
What he's written down soon dawns on me. I cough awkwardly, despite his absence, as I try to come to terms with reality. A polished hand, one that could only belong to Bell, snatches the paper right out of my hands.
“Hey!” I whine in protest and try to retrieve it back, but she merely dodges my attempts on her life with ease.
“Oh my goodness! You got digits!” she praises in exhilaration. Well, thi
s is turning out to be a very productive day.
I begin to smile, joyful since this is a very rare and unlikely occurrence. I grab the paper from Bell's hand and tear it up before throwing it into a nearby trashcan.
She gasps, her eyes widening in disbelief before she recovers and makes her expected remark. “I will never understand you.”
I shrug carelessly. “I will never understand me either. I'm much too complex.”
I glance up to meet Simo's warm smile. A consuming feeling overwhelms my insides until I'm left feeling nauseous with him in my line of vision. I keep my eyes focused on Simo as I whisper to Bells. “I think I'm dying. Something is not right with me. There's this disgusting feeling brewing within me whenever I look at
Simo—”
“Aqueela! You are so rude!” She gapes at me in utter astoundment and places a hand over my mouth to prevent me from saying anything more.
I remove her hand with a sharp stare and correct her in her theory. “No.” I shake my head. “Not like that, you chicken wing,” I clarify. “I mean, it feels like my insides are being eaten from the inside out and then being regurgitated. I feel sick. I think I am going to puke,” I conclude absentmindedly, my attention on Simo alone. “And I think you're feeling the emotion called 'guilt',” Bella taunts from beside me, failing to whisper.
I wave my hand, dismissing her assumption. “No,” I argue relentlessly.
“That's not it. Can't be. I'm not capable of such petty emotions. I'm immune.”
“Admit it, Aqueels. You're feeling guilty for being a complete jerk to him yesterday when he was nothing but polite,” Bella tells me as she wraps an arm around my shoulders.
I reluctantly sigh in admission. “Could be, could be...” I trail off after receiving a cold glare from her. I finally give in. “Okay, so I'm feeling guilty, so I'm not made out of stone—”
“No one thought you were made of stone, Aqueela,” she cuts me off abruptly.
I thought I was made of stone.
“No, but many have thought of me as some kind of superhero. Just so you know, I'm not. I'm an ordinary civilian just like you, well, a little better than you, but still similar to you,” I tease in good nature. “But it's true,” I carefully add, “there's an urban legend going around saying that I'm made of stone, and I hate to break it to you like this, but it's true.”