I'm Sorry, But We're Not Mates

Chapter 8

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(Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes)

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Peter

 

                “So where exactly are we going?” I asked, running a towel through my wet hair as I walked into the living room.

                Claire stood in the middle of the living room and as I observed her I couldn’t help but see how different she was from her surroundings. I couldn’t help but realize how wrong she was for me. The living room was cleaner than usual with beer bottles and take out containers being reduced to just the coffee table instead of covering every surface of the room. Still though, the couch was worn and yellowed with stains and the room had an unmistakable musky scent that if you weren’t used to made you think of the fastest way to escape. The place was neater but still cringe worthy.

                But Claire stood there, as indifferent as ever.

                She was like a brilliant light against the backdrop of my dirty apartment. She’d come prepared this time. Instead of business attire, she had slipped on dark blue jeans and a silver tank top. Being the classy person I could already tell she was, she had to add a little more to the simple outfit. A form fitting black blazer and black ankle boots gave her a sophisticated but still laid back appearance. I mentally shook my head at my thoughts. When had I joined the panel of Fashion Police? I quickly finished my perusal of her and silently admitted she looked good when she was dressed casually.

                “Well?” I questioned when she didn’t answer. She stood, fascinated, by a framed picture of a rock concert from the nineties that was hanging on the wall. I’d seen it in a thrift shop a few years ago and thought it was cool so I bought it.

                “Sorry, that just looks so fun.” Claire replied, still looking at the picture. The band looked to be at the height of the song as they all had crazed, energetic faces with strobe lights flashing out from the stage. The crowd had their arms up and were jumping up and down.

                It did look like a fun concert to have been at.

                “You ever been?”  I leaned against the doorway and watched as she slowly blinked and glanced at me.

                “Where?”

                “To a rock concert?” I nodded toward the photo.

                “No.” She chuckled ruefully, looking down at her clasped hands. “That wasn’t really my thing growing up.”

                “Let me guess, were you the popular cheerleader who loved to shop for anything pink?” I teased. She tensed and looked away.

                “No, that was always Taylor.” She murmured quietly.  “I was the unattractive nerd no one really paid attention to.” She was quiet before cracking me a sarcastic smile. “And you were the popular jock?”

                “Yeah.” I said slowly. I cocked my head, trying to figure her out. How could she be considered unattractive? I haven’t taken the time to look at girls since Ariel but I could see she was downright beautiful.

                “So where are we going?” She did a one eighty and clapped her hands together with a bright smile.

                “I thought you had somewhere in mind.” I laughed.