See Dot Smile

The Fight

Bud picks me up at eight on the dot. No pun intended.

He honks the horn, which is way out of character for him. I'm surprised he doesn't want to come in and talk to my parents. I grab my jacket, hat, scarf, and mittens– winter came back overnight - and wiggle step my way across the icy driveway to Bud's car. He doesn't meet me halfway to help me make the journey. Also, very out of character.

I open my own door and drop into the passenger seat.

"You look nice," he says without looking at me. If he did, he would realize how ridiculous that comment was. I look, at best, like crap after less than four hours of sleep. I didn't bother putting makeup on or doing anything with my hair. And I'm in sweatpants. So yeah. I look hot.

"Thank you," I say, detecting a very un-Bud like vibe from him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he says. "Tired." He backs out of the driveway and pulls onto the road.

I shrug it off. I'm tired too. We need coffee. And pancakes. "Where are we going?"

"Jonie's," he says. "It's on the beach. Is that cool?"

"Sure. I love the beach."

"Me too."

Okay. Are we meeting for the first time here or what?

After five minutes of silence that would normally be filled with Bud's boisterous chattiness, I try to get the ball rolling.

"How come you're always awake when I text you in the middle of the night?"

His hands tighten on the wheel. "Sometimes I can't sleep," he says.

I always assumed sleeping would come naturally to someone like Bud. He expends so much energy being himself, he must get tired by the end of the day. I start to press him on it, and he changes the subject.

"So," he smiles. A little. "What happened with Joshua?"

My gut twitters nervously. I didn't think about how to word this for Bud. I don't want to make him uncomfortable. I'll keep it PG.

"A lot actually."

He glances at me before returning his eyes to the road. "Did you guys...?"

I fill in the blank.

"No," I say.

He looks relieved. This puzzles me.

"How did you guys leave things?" he asks.

I'm not sure how I thought this conversation would go. But it wasn't like this.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean. Are you guys together now?"

"Well. No." Is this really the first time that fact has entered my hormone addled brain?

"Has he called or texted you this morning? To see how you're doing with everything?"

He's staring straight ahead. Brow furrowed with concern.

"No," I say. "But he went home really late. He's probably still asleep."

Bud nods his head like he needs to process this.

"What's up with you?" I ask. "I thought you'd be excited for me."

"Sorry. Yeah. I am," he flusters. "It's just... can you tell me what he said? Or like, how he was before he left?"

I have no idea why this is important to Bud, but it would be great to not have to eat pancakes with this weird angsty prosecutor guy. I want Bud back.