Who would have thought that me getting on a plane with my dad for a trip that would last for summer would turn into three years? I was supposed to come back, and I wanted to at first, but plans change, and my life forever flipped upside down (but in...
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Tuesday
Cori and Lucas sat on her bed, doing their homework in comfortable silence. They always found themselves in this position since the two had their little sleepover. They would do homework, watch tv, or sit in silence, but either way, they were together.
"Can you check that for me?" Cori asked Lucas, her phone on the nightstand closer to him ringing out.
He nodded as she asked, "It's from Josh."
She groaned, taking the phone from him, opening the message without bothering to respond.
"What's uh, what going on with you two?"
She shrugged, "nothing's going on at the moment. I have not talked to him since the whole ice cream thing."
"Do you like him or somethin'?"
She laughed, "he is cute, hot even, but I don't think I knew the real him. With me, he's the great sweet guy, but with everyone else, he's completely different; I can't even explain it."
A pit in her stomach started to grow once she noticed the changes in his personality around certain people, causing her to grow distrustful of him.
"I don't like inconsistency," she admitted, "it scares me."
"Scares me too."
The air grew thick and humid as the two teens became silent, neither looking at the other. Words unspoken hanging in the wind.
"Anyway, enough about me," she said, "tell me, Lucas Friar, what's your love life like?"
He laughed, "I don't have one; shit, I haven't had a girlfriend since middle school."
Her eyebrows rose in shock, "but you're so—you're you."
He looked up from his book, smiling.
"That's a compliment," she told him.
"I know, Cori," he reassured her, "but uh, I've just been focused on school, football, and my friends, I guess."
She tilted her head, "College in the cards for you?"
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" he asked her instead of answering her question.
"A lawyer," she said with little hesitation, "innocence projects, to be more specific. I want to help people who can't help themselves, people like me."
"How noble of you."
"I know."
"And modest," he joked.
She laughed, playfully shoving him, "Shut up. Now tell me, what do you wanna be?"
He was quiet, thoughtful.
"I want to be a musician," he told her, an invisible weight lifting off his shoulders as she admitted his secret passion, "a few years ago, I realized that I like singing, then writing came naturally after that."
