I Made You

Chapter 8 - The Hangout

Chapter 8 – The hangout

“Gabby?” Peter called. Gabby looked up to see him sending her a curious look. She sipped her coke and leaned back in the comfortable chair. Peter’s home was the best. She could live in this chair alone and never need anything else, and she would have—if it weren’t weird.

“What should we start with?” he asked. Gabby became serious and looked him over. He was still in that god-awful clothes, and he’d failed to straighten his hair properly. Although, the longer she looked at his slightly shaggy haircut, she found that he might have done it right.

“We need to practice your flirting,” she said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He pretended to flex his muscles. “I’m the best at flirting.”

He rolled his eyes, which caused Gabby to grin in response.

“Very funny,” she said.

“Seriously though, how do you propose we do that?”

She thought it over. “Well, most of the times you switch from sounding like a little scared mouse, over to sound like you just don’t care,” she explained.

“But most of the time I am either indifferent or nervous.”

“I know, and that’s what we need to work on.”

“How?”

Her eyes found his. “We need to make you more confident. You’re a great guy—believe it!”

Peter snorted.

“I’m serious.”

“It’s easier said than done, Gabby.”

“Try telling me something you’re proud of. Something great about you.”

Peter didn’t answer right away. Gabby focused on her drink and gave him time to think.

He sighed and ruffled his hair. “I guess I can draw pretty well?”

Gabby was staring at a get-away strand of hair, which was poking straight up in the air. It tingled in her fingers, to reach out and fix it, but she couldn’t. Instead, she shook her head. “That’s good, but you don’t sound like you’re proud of it. Try to repeat after me: I am an awesome artist!”

“I am an awesome artist,” Peter said in his monotone voice.

“See, that’s what I mean. You’re sounding like you’re reading up from a paper.”

“The problem is my drawings really aren’t that amazing. I have a long way to go before I can be somewhat close to an artist,” he said. “And usually, people just call me a freak when I sketch. It’s just the way it is.”

“I guess we’ll have to wait with that part then. It’ll come with time. Just… Do your best to compliment yourself at least once every day.”

“What about my walk then? You mentioned that my walk was wrong the other day.”

“Technically, it isn’t wrong. It’s still walking,” she said. “It’s just… You look like you’re trying to hide. Like a scared little boy, trying to hide in his clothes.”

“Way to put it nicely.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. She rubbed her eyes with her palms. Why was explaining what she meant so difficult to do?

“No worries.” He grinned. “I’m just messing with ya.”

Gabby sighed in relief—she really didn’t want to piss him off—and returned his smile. She was looking at him, when an idea occurred. “I got it!”