Amber

Chapter 17

October 18, 2014

Dear Journal,

Tonight was the big night. One day when I'm that crazy, old widow with no life and no future, all I'm going to do is sit in a rocking chair and think about tonight. About how it was the greatest night of my life at age fifteen, and all of the years' worth of nights after were huge letdowns by comparison.

He picked me up in his car, which is a pretty old silver Ford, recently washed and all sparkly in the evening sun. There's not much to say for it except it has leather seats, a sunroof, and four working wheels, which acted as a transporter away from the life Hailey Austin knew before she climbed inside and ingested the smell of Brad—all heavy-cologne, breath mint, and facial lotion.

He wanted to come to the door, but my parents weren't home and neither was Hannah. I told him it was too old-fashioned anyway and that I didn't need doors opened for me or any of that stuff because women are liberated and free to use our own working hands to open our own doors now. I said it as a joke. But he didn't laugh, so he probably thought I was serious.

"Hey," he said as I sat down, wincing as my hand found the leather hot from the sun.

"Hey," I answered, my eyes drifting his way to study what he was wearing—a green collared shirt poking out from above his suede jacket, dark blue jeans, and black Sketchers. He looked cute, like always, but also a little out of character. Like a rock star in disguise.

I switched outfits so many times that I don't even remember what I ended up wearing. A combination of various clothing from my usual rotation. The one constant through all of my changes were Hannah's silver flats.

A song played on the radio that I thought sounded like Brad's band, Taken, until the vocals started and the singer's high, screechy voice confirmed otherwise.

A part of me kind of wished that Brad didn't know where he was going so that we would never find the restaurant and instead would have stayed in the car all night driving and not saying a word to each other because then nothing could ever go wrong. It would be like our first date never ended. If neither of us spoke, we would never have any fights or disagree or let anything disrupt the beautiful silence that existed in the background of the radio music.

Brad looked cool while driving. Of course. All one-handed on the steering wheel while leaning back. I'm betting he could have fallen asleep and still stayed on the road.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, turning out of my neighborhood.

I looked to the clock, which read: 7:04.

"My dad took the car out earlier and didn't tell me that he left it practically on empty."

"Oh. You're not really late. I didn't even notice."

He glanced over, his ocean eyes trailing me up and down and taking note of the clothes I was wearing, which were hopefully more memorable to him than to me. "You look great, Hailey."

"Thanks," I said. "You smell nice."

He smiled. Dimples. Nice-smelling. Milk chocolate hair falling into his eyes. (UGH.) God, where was I? How did I get inside of that car, and how did he act as if I belonged there?

We drove for a few minutes, and apparently I started humming along with the radio because Brad noticed and said, "You like The Killers?"

"Huh? Who? Oh, I guess so. Is that who this is?"

He nodded. "Do you always hum along when you like the song?"

"Yes. I think so. I don't really notice I'm doing it."