The Way Back To You

Chapter 8

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A P R I L

I wave back at Mason, Charity and Quinn, shrugging my shoulders as I sneak backwards toward my own car. Alex's last words swirl around my head and I can't help but feel a bit agreeable, at least towards his intentions.

I really don't know him, do I?

And he's making it his business to be distant and keep his mind unreadable, his actions under the hood and...Mysterious.

I guess he likes to keep us guessing. Must want to keep up some sort of profile of himself for everyone to look up to and want to get into as well. ( If you know what I mean.)

One thing's for sure. Alexander Valdez sure is something...Quite a character if we're being honest here.

I find it intriguing. He's peaked my curiosity, which is a pretty difficult thing to do.

And now I can't seem to shake him out of my head. It was easy enough to forget him when I couldn't see him, but now it's like his Armani model worthy self is engraved in my brain. And...I sorta want it out.

I flip out my phone and shoot Yvonne a text, informing her that I'm on my way. Usually, I head over to Charity or Mason's, but since Mason and Quinn started dating, he spends most of his time with her. Charity doesn't want to be around THAT, and frankly, neither do I.

I suck in a deep breath and jump into my car. I still don't have the directions back home memorized. I usually keep the route tattooed to the back of my hand in permanent marker, but this morning I wrote it all down on paper.

I reach for the crumpled loose leaf on my fender and smooth it out on my lap, squinting my eyes at my own untidy scrawl.
Great. Can't even read my own handwriting.

I scowl and set the paper back on the fender, stepping on the pedal and reeling out of the parking lot.
It's not that hard to remember. Might as well do it now...

I bite on my lip and drive forward, moving past an intersection and turning left. I drive for a few minutes, making a few more turns and trying to navigate through these windy roads. It's incredibly difficult...

I strain my mind for any recollection of the route from the past, like, 69 times I've driven. I pause at a point, slam on the brakes and then just as quickly accelerate, violently jerking my wheel to the right of the road, careening past a clump of withered trees and bushes.

Where am I?

The roads in this turn are cracked and unpaved, the buildings are tilting far too close together and there's so much noise in this area of the neighborhood...If you can even call it a neighborhood.

I drive around in circles for a few minutes before deciding to get down and ask for directions. It's about four in the afternoon, and already the sky has darkened considerably. I need to get home before I worry Yvonne.

As for mom and dad....They won't be home anyway. Probably out working late, like they were every day this past week.

I brake my car at the side of a dingy path and get down. There's a crumpled old building to my right and an outhouse at the corner. A couple of men are huddled around it, smoking on something that looks suspiciously like weed and conversing in loud, open voices.