Passengers | Edited Version

Chapter Two

TWO

Although Miss Mariam said that a girl rented the space from her a few days ago, I was picturing the person to be closer to their thirties and the usual type of camper who has no interest in the affairs of this town other than the lake. Someone a little mean and a little greasy. Someone that I wouldn't even think twice about. I was expecting to hand the pie to them as quick as possible and hurry on back to my house before heat stroke took me out.

    But all of that is out the window now.

The girl has a baby face, but I highly doubt that she's a minor based on the information Miss Mariam gave me. She squints her eyes in my direction from the last step in the doorway, her tanned hands placed against her forehead in an attempt to shield some of the light away.  I should tell her that nothing works against the summer heat, but it seems that I suddenly lost the ability to control my body. God, I'm such a sucker for pretty brunettes.

A stray breeze graces the back of my neck and despite the mess that I've made of myself just standing here, I can't help but smile. The girl doesn't have the same reaction as I do, however. The wind tosses her long hair in every direction possible and she frowns, a line forming between her thick eyebrows.

She tries to fix her hair with her hands, but the attempt remains unsuccessful. She doesn't give up, though. There have only been a handful of moments in my whole life that I've been glad for my hair's inability to grow past my shoulder blades and this is one of them. While I'm sure that it at least messed with it a little, I know that it'll be far less noticeable than the black mess that is her hair.

"On the bright side, the wind barely ever makes an appearance here in the summer, so you won't have to worry about that for much longer," I say. Hopefully she won't notice the fact that I'm trying a little too hard not to laugh at how deep her frown is over the wind.

She stares at me with her right eyebrow raised questioningly. 

It's only when fifteen seconds pass without so much as a blink or word from the new girl that I realize that she has no idea why I'm standing in front of her. To her, I'm just a random girl that showed up without notice and made fun of the fact that her hair is now in scattered knots.

I flash her my best Southern hospitality smile, while I quickly shake my head and try not to think about what kind of impression I must be giving off. If Mama or Miss Mariam were to see me now, they'd never let me live this one down. They're such a stickler for proper manners as if the year was 1915 instead of 2014. I'm still counting my blessings that I never had to go to cotillion (even though both had nearly insisted on it back in middle school, but the issue was dropped after various arguments on the matter and I've never considered myself more lucky to get my way).

"I'm Nellie Dreher," I say with my free hand outstretched. "And I'm sorry that I didn't introduce myself more before commenting on the state of your hair and the seasonal impact it'll face here in Franklin. My bad manners proceed me, I'm afraid.

She firmly shakes my hand, a glimpse of a small smile visible. "Indie Rao."

Her brown eyes sweep over me and for a brief second, I can feel her gaze hesitate. She pushes hair onto her face, but I can still see a pink streak painted across both of her cheeks. Oh God, she's blushing. That's the gayest thing I've seen all afternoon.

  I can't help but allow a sly smile to spread all  the way across my face, the tip of my tongue making an appearance in between my teeth. Cute girls will be the end of me, I swear it. I'm not embarrassed in the slightest way but I can tell Indie is, so instead of mentioning anything, I simply pretend that I didn't see anything. As if she wasn't just totally checking me out.