Imperfectly Perfect

9.

I turn the radio up, as I become more relaxed, just listening to the driving directions hat he typed into my phone instead of his dinosaur phone from the 'stone ages' according to him.

Phones, let alone cell phones didn't even exist back then! Goodness gracious!

I start tapping my fingers to the beat of the song against the steering wheel and humming under my breath. Every so often Siri gives us a direction off my phone, so I dial down the music a few notches to hear her.

"In two tenths of a mile right turn, *ding ding*"

"Blinker."

I slightly tilt my head, indicating that I heard what he said.

"Can you please tell me where we're going?"

I drum my fingers on the steering wheel as my stomach is filled with anxiety and I bounce my left leg, as my right one is occupied between pressing the gas and brake.

"Nope."

A moment passes and I swear you could hear the car clock tick as the seconds went by. The silence was overwhelming. All you could hear was the thumping of my leg, the clock, the occasional click of the turn signal, and my heavy breathing.

"Are you okay?"

Alfonso finally breaks the awkward silence with that question.

"Not really," I manage to breathe out.

I'm still shaking, my appearance looking similar to one of a leaf.

"Why are you shaking?"

"Anxiety."

"You're anxious," he states aloud, and when I glance at him quickly out of the corner of my eye,

"The anticipation of the 'surprise' is giving me anxiety."

"Oh."

A moment passes again before he decides to speak up, "we're going to express ourselves."

"How?! In what way??"

"Um. . ."

He awkwardly scratches his neck, oh shit I think to myself, we're doing something illegal.

I'm screwed.

I'm screwed.

I'm.

Fucking.

Screwed.

"Alfonso. What are we doing?"

I pronounce every word menacingly and grip his hand tighter with every word. However, he in turn, continues to just rub circles with his thumb on the back of my hand.

"We're here."

I look around, scanning the area without getting out of the car quite yet.

"Home Depot?"

I am seriously judging his rebellious skills right now.

"What?"

He shrugs, "it's not like I knew what we were gonna do this morning, we have a list."

"Excuse me," he raps a worker on the shoulder, "Could you unlock a spray paint for us? My sister and I need to repaint this fence in our backyard."

I raise my eyebrow at him, but the worker asks no questions and we simply follow as a straight line, why we do this, in unsure, but we do.

"Can we have the silver for accents, and the black?"

He grins semi-creepily, as we're each handed a paint spray.

"When I say run, run."

He mutters under his breath, his hot breath tickles my ear and I shiver with almost. . . Anticipation?

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

"FIRE."

He grabs my hand and we run out of there, as if our tails are on fire and no one even notices us leaving, or the loud sirens going off, assuming it's the smoke detector.

And then I realize, he never said run.