"Sorry babe. Me and the guys are going on a road trip."
Sonya closed her eyes and tried to understand where such a powerful homicidal urge had come from.
"Babe" she started, trying to keep the sweet separate from the sour, "you promised to help me move my things today, though. Remember?"
She could hear them chatting and jostling around in the background. Her mind started racing as she considered the implications of her fiance's casual cancellation. The good cheer on the other line began to take on an ugly tinge to her ears.
"Hey - did you hear me?" she raised her voice to be heard - a few of the remaining students in her class asking the teacher questions glanced over in her direction and (wisely, she thought) looked away when she raised her eyes to them with the mildest hint of ferocity. While her voice struggled to maintain its sunny pitch, thunderclouds were clearly forming -- visible even to the untrained eye. A long moment passed as the background noises continued.
"What? Yeah, I heard you. It's a surprise! Look, this is important- I'll make it up to you, though. Totally. Give me some sugar, sweetness."
She could hear cat-calls and other background chatter accompanying Steve's last comment. Her eyes punched holes in some distant object located behind the littered whiteboard at the front of the class as she disconnected the call without responding. That's one of the things that sucked about the new smartphones -- you couldn't get the same emotional release scrolling your finger to hang up the line that you could slamming it into its holder. Same idea, though.
There was a part of her that felt obligated to go through the motions. He would call and text her again and again, sooner or later and eventually she would forgive him and they would make up and then he would begin toeing the line of acceptable behaviour, taking her for granted, and it would begin all over again. But that was a problem to deal with when she had calmed down - for now, she took the mildest bit of satisfaction in setting her phone to silent.
Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch. She really didn't want to have to call a moving company - but she might have no choice if she couldn't find another warm body to help her out.
Performing a quick breathing exercise she remembered her old soccer instructor teaching her, she inhaled through her nose and tried to exhale the fire in her belly - unsuccessfully. Packing her textbook and binder into the bag with a bit more force than was strictly necessary, she tried to generate a mental list of friends who might be able to help her out in her current predicament. Strolling out of class and finding a relatively quiet spot in the cafeteria to sit and concentrate, she messaged her usual group.
Her electronic emergency cry for help was universally rejected. One of her girlfriends wished her luck with a smiley face.
Bitch.
James? No - he was out of town. Trevor? Actually, no. Not Derek - bad idea. Evan? Crap, she hadn't talked to him in forever.
Damn. As she scrolled to the bottom of her contact list and made her way back up again, connecting faces to numbers, she realized that she hadn't seriously considered how many of her male friends she had stopped contacting since Steve had proposed to her. Come to think of it - the great male migration had begun even before they had gotten serious. It's harder than you might realize to simply maintain the number of male friends you have when you settle down with one of them.
Stupid gender.
As she stood there, uncertain as to how to proceed and feeling frustrated and angry with just the mildest bitter feeling of despair threatening to swell in her eyes and ruin her makeup (who really wants to spend their Friday evening moving their belongings alone? Or any evening, for that matter).
Fate apparently felt obligated to intervene.
"Hey Sonya? Sonya, right?"
She turned her head sharply at the utterance of her name, to the person who broke her trance, like a cat hearing a small furry mammal in the vicinity. Her look was purely predatory. Rick was approaching her - more commonly known as the hot tall model guy who sat in the row directly in front of her. Trying to quickly shift gears, she smothered her annoyance at the predicament of her current situation and tried to soften her features - to give an encouraging, acknowledging smile as he came closer.
Key word; tried to
The focus of her dark eyes may have felt a touch singed.
Judging by the widened eyes and slowing pace, she had failed.
Too many teeth in that smile.
Little too sharky.
"Something the matter?" he asked saddling up beside her table, his voice a little cautious.
For a moment she considered taking him up on his offer of confidence - going on a long, emotionally wrenching soliloquy about the unfairness of her situation and the selfishness of her boyfriend, and the fact that clouds were rolling in and it looked like a storm was on it's way - despite the forecast of clear skies and mild temperatures - and how she had to move all of her belongings tonight so that someone else could move into her place tomorrow and how life sucked when even your local newscasters couldn't be depended upon. How real friends are the ones sticking around even when it's inconvenient. How expensive gas was getting! EVERYTHING!
Instead she squashed the strange, psychotic little urge with a note of concern and instead strove to appear calm and composed. Maybe a little too relaxed.
"Oh, you know. The usual" she said in a way that conveyed that nothing at all was bothering her in an extremely unconvincing way. The white knuckled grip on her phone may or may not have given away her bluff.
Rick stared at her face for a long moment, and Sonya was increasingly aware of the rising temperature in her cheeks. He couldn't see it, but she felt it.
"Well?" she said, slightly annoyed - mostly embarrassed.
"You have a truck, right?" he asked, as if confirming something he already knew.
"Yeah" cautiously.
"You're going downtown, right?" like the fact that he knows which direction she goes after school was common knowledge.
"Uh-huh" suspiciously.
"Do you need some help?"
========================================
A light drizzle had begun as they stepped out to the parking lot and began to pick up as they sped up a little bit to her truck. A click and a turn later they were both out of the rain and sitting beside each other. Exchanging polite chit-chat, Sonya found herself warming up to her new friend and classmate. He turned out to be a fairly interesting guy. It didn't hurt that he was a pleasing sight on the eyes. Mentally, she chastised herself for running her eyes over his body, taking in his shape. She may have been maintaining slightly better posture than she normally would if she didn't have company.
Why was she feeling the tiniest bit flustered? Whatever, she was engaged (or was it engaged to be engaged? Her gaze fell to her driving hand for a moment, noting the lonely finger as she had many times before) - not dead.
"Can I ask you a personal question?" he asked, after a brief lull in the conversation, as they came upon a red light.
"Maybe" she said, guardedly.
"What are you passionate about?"
They were both staring ahead at the traffic, He said it so casually, so matter-of-factly, that she was momentarily taken aback.
She laughed after a moment. What a silly question! How was she supposed to answer?
"What do you mean?" she asked, caught momentarily off-balance, feeling a little guarded.
"Passion. Y'know - interests, dislikes, loves, hates - I don't really know you all that well."
"Sure you do! We talk in class all the time."
A moment passed. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his profile turn slightly towards her. His fingers drummed an oddly distracting little beat on his knee. She couldn't help but wonder if the muscles in his hand and forearm accurately represented the rest of his body. A little shiver (delightful?) ran through her. She took her eyes off him for a moment and adjusted the heat.
It was chilly, sure.
"There's talking, and then there's talking." There was something in his voice in that simple statement. Sincerity? She wasn't sure. It was something you didn't really hear unless you were talking to someone you've known a long time. It felt too...familiar, too intimate, if that made any sense. She knew what he meant, what he was talking about, but felt a strange, chaotically playful urge to disagree with him - just to see what would happen.
"You're wrong," she replied - less confidently then she would have liked. "For example, I know that you like boats but hate the ocean. You watch Entourage and like cooking with your bare hands."
A moment passed as he considered her response. She could see his brow lower in an expression that looked to be part confusion, part concentration as she concluded her extremely brief biography on her classmate. Then the look passed and a beaming smile lit up his face.
"I see you've creeped my Facebook profile." She felt a little heat in her cheeks as he smiled and nodded in acknowledgment in her general direction.
A moment passed. "I was curious," she admitted "to know more about you."
His laughter pearled out in the cramped confines of the truck. A nice laugh. Nice everything.
"What's so funny?" she asked, maybe a little sharply. Was he making fun of her? Fucker.
"Sorry," he said "I just find it funny how quickly people can come to the conclusion that they actually know somebody on the basis of a few blurbs and pictures."
He had a point, she had to admit.
"Well, what are you passionate about?" she countered to his original query.
"Living a good life," he replied simply. Like it was a matter-of-fact statement that should instantly make perfect sense.
She paused for a moment, considering.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean living a good life. Experience different cultures, different people, cross the oceans a few times, eat some great food, drink better beer, listen to some soulful music , have some belly laughs, maybe raise a family, help beautiful women in distress from time to time - you know, the usual. I take it a day at a time."
Silence reigned in the car for a moment. Another green light -- they were making good time.
"I'm not really sure," she replied after a moment "what I want out of life."
"That's good" he said. Concise bastard.
"What?!" she gave a genuine laugh at his response. "How is having a big question mark for a life goal considered a good thing?"
