like dandelions in the wind (l.s.)

Day two (2)

After about two more hours, when the silence gets unbearable, I stop at a diner and decide I really need to get some food.

“Coming with me or not?”, I ask the boy and he just shrugs. “Do whatever you want to, I’m hungry.”

I get out of the car and he’s following behind just a few meters. I choose a table by the window because I’m scared of someone stealing my dad’s car and like this, I can keep it in sight.

We sit there in silence for about five minutes while waiting for a waiter to appear before I lean back in my chair and sigh.

“Okay”, I say, “If you want to stay in my car for another two hours or so, you need to stop ignoring me. Either you act like a socially normal person and talk, or you get over with your business and kill me already, or you just stay here and wait for some other potential murder to pick you up.”

He opens his eyes rather widely as if he wasn’t expecting me to say that and nods “Right, sorry. I didn’t want to bother you. You didn’t really seem as if you enjoyed my company.”

“Usually, when you first meet people, you introduce yourself.”

He nods again. “Yeah, right. Not too good with those formalities.”

He gets up and walks away and I already think he decided on option three when he heads out of the door. Instead of leaving, he opens the door of the diner and walks in, sitting down across from me again.

“Hi”, he says, “Nice to meet you. I’m Harry.”

I can see his lip twitching, nearly forming a smile and it makes me laugh, almost. I didn’t expect him to have a sense of humour, to be honest.
“Louis”, I say, reaching out my hand so he can shake it, “What brought you here?”

He shrugs, the smile leaving his face again. “I’m going on a trip to the south. How about you?”

I try not to think about what a weird situation I got myself into and try to nod interestedly. “Great. I’m headed to the south, too. Doing a little trip around England before visiting my parents. As you probably heard, I need a little break from my roommate.”

He nods. “I definitely did hear, yes.”

I laugh and desperately try to come up with something to say when a blonde waitress arrives at our table and hands us the menus. “There you go, boys. Decided on drinks yet?”

“I’ll have the chocolate milkshake”, Harry says with a polite smile on his lips.

“The homemade lemonade for me.” She nods before leaving again.

“You’re the milkshake guy, then?”, I ask him.

“Didn’t know that was a certain type”, he says without looking up from his menu.

“Yes, it is. It’s the kind who likes to eat a lot but never gets fat, never goes to the gym but likes to go running in parks, has long hair tied into a bun because it’s fancy, keeps a journal and studies art or music.”

Harry looks up from his menu now. “That’s ridiculous. I am not the milkshake type.”

“I got it right, didn’t I?”
He rolls his eyes as a confirmation. “And you’re the lemonade type, then?”

“Suppose so”, I reply, reading over the different meals, “What is the lemonade type like?”

“It’s this boring type”, he starts and I scoff, “Orders lemonade because it somehow tastes healthier than a milkshake but not as boring as water, wears sweatpants the whole day, rather goes on road trips alone than stay home and party with friends, has had the same girlfriend for years and studies something just because he didn’t know what to do.”