Chapter Text
You stop for gas because the light has been on for the last twenty minutes. Nobody noticed until you got off the highway.
Of course, they make you pay for it.
"You have Apple Pay, right?" Someone mutters, not even looking at you.
It was some girl you'd met senior year. Ashley, maybe. Or Ava. You've never been sure. Regardless, she and the rest of her friends had convinced you to come out with them, only to spend the entire night being loud, obnoxious, and using you as a living, oxygenated wallet.
You thought about lying for a moment.
Maybe you could say no.
Maybe finally taking charge for once would make you feel a little better. The first step to change is admitting you have a problem, right?
"Yeah."
Great.
"Aw, thank you! You're such a lifesaver." And then all four of them go inside, filing in through the doors one after another.
You stand beside the car with the pump in your hand, watching them through the windows as they wander around the store like they have all the time in the world. They're grabbing drinks and candy and probably something none of them actually need.
You don't know why you came out with them tonight.
You don't even particularly like any of them.
The gas is still running.
You look over at the pump beside you, mostly just to have something to look at. There's someone standing there. Smoking. From where you're standing, you can only see the side of someone in a black hoodie with curly red hair and one hand shoved into their pocket. They look about your age.
You look away.
For some reason, you start wondering if their friends are inside too. If they also made them pay for something. If they left them here alone while they went inside too.
You frown.
"I need better friends." You think to yourself, and then realize you said the words out loud. You freeze.
"... Yeah."
Oh.
You turn your head to find them already looking at you, and you feel bullets of sweat beginning to form on your skin.
"... What?" You manage, clearing your throat after hearing how awkward that came out.
They take another drag and then shrug.
"Yeah."
You stare at them for a second.
"Oh."
"Sorry."
"No, I wasn't—"
"I thought you were talking to me."
"I wasn't."
"Right."
You're such an idiot, you think to yourself. They look back toward the store their friends or boyfriend or whoever they’re with is in. You look toward yours.
Nobody's coming out.
So, in an attempt to ease the tension and fill the silence, you start talking again. Intentionally this time.
"They're making me pay for their gas." You say.
They look over.
"That's fucked."
"Thank you."
"I'd leave."
A car honks somewhere in the distance, and across the street two people spill out of a late night bar.
"I can't. It's not my car."
They laugh, and it's small and barely a laugh at all, but you smile anyway.
You haven't seen them around, which is weird considering your town was so small everyone had seen everyone at least once. You don't know their name. You don't know where they're from. You don't even know if they do have friends inside, and you'd only started talking because of a misunderstanding, but you know that you want to keep talking to them. Maybe it had just been a long night. Maybe you just really do need better friends, and they just happen to be the first person within six feet of you who seems remotely available. But what if it was something more?
The cold nipped at the ends of your fingers.
You shifted your weight from one foot to the other.
They look at you again, and you look up mid-thought, and for a second, you meet their deep, brown eyes between a gap in the pumps.
You look away first. You're about to say something, anything, when you hear your name and commotion—
"Josh! Oh my god, stop." The last word is dragged out, exaggerated in that way some people do when they're trying to flirt. God, what were you doing? You didn't even know the names of half the people you were hanging out with.
Your stranger, still smoking, seemed like they'd been interrupted too, but before you could even attempt to muster up the courage to ask for their number or name or anything you were getting rushed back into the car and shipped home. The only thing you could do was mouth a subtle "bye." They nodded, you looked away, and then you were gone.
And as you sat in the car, bored and uncomfortable and desperately wanting to just go home, you couldn't help but feel like and wish you would see them again.