Whoops!

Chapter 8

So I ended up buckling up in his car, even though I tried my hardest to convince him I could drive us. But unfortunately my lack of direction made it clear Chase was going to be driving.

I yawned as Chase told me for the hundredth time to pay attention. 

It wasn't my fault his car was super low and had super amazingly comfy seats... not my fault at all.

I hummed to the sounds of Noah and the Wale while I took sneaky glances at my hand. 

I had yet to get it freed from Chase's grip. Even when we had to be separated by getting into his surprisingly nice car, he just went back to holding my hand. Which really is a bad idea, especially since he's driving. 

Also, what would Mr. Emo boy, I'm-so-tough-and-can-punch-walls-n-stuff-but-not-really-man, be listening to indie music? I thought I'd be suffering through some metal-ish type sounds like Mastodon or Slipnot.

Seems we have more in common than I thought.

He parked in front of a store on a street filled with stores, and not to mention lots of people. Can I be more vague? Probably. But Chase would be mad if he knew I wasn't really paying attention to where we were going. 

So yeah, we got out of the car and walked onto this cobblestone-looking street. The whole street looked really nice with all it's quaint shops, but it also wreaked of wasted money.

I doubt I'll be able to afford much here rather than the stuff I bought at the chain stores they had at the mall.

The moment he locked his car, he swiftly slipped his keys into his pocket and then took my hand in his again. I tried to make my face show as much indifference as it could, but secretly I kinda liked his eagerness to hold my hand. 

We walked down the street a little, passing a clothing store for the middle-aged worker woman and a barber shop where a little boy was tentatively entering with his (probably) grandfather. Overall the street was really cool and we ended up stopping in front of this vintage nick-nack shop.

 As we walked past eisle after eisle it reminded me a little of back home.

There was this old lady there, a short stubby woman with long white hair that was always pinned back into an elegant bun. A lot of the times she wore a long sundress and had little bitty reading glasses that hung around her neck on a gold chain. Any normal person would look at her and think she's harmless, but in reality, she was an extremely confident, cocky old lady with the biggest sailor mouth I've ever heard. And that's saying something, considering I'm the teenager here.

Honestly, when I first met her I pretty much instantly hated her. She was rude and challenged my every move. But, when one summer my stupid ex-boyfriend pinned the blame for "borrowing" someone else's car on me, she was the only person who believed I was innocent. Sure, mom said that I didn't do it, but you could tell even she was doubtful.

I ran from home crying and sobbing down the street like an idiot. My lungs hurt like hell and I ended up crouching down on the sidewalk balling by eyes out in a neighborhood that I'd barely ever been to.

By the time I managed to slightly calm down, the lady was standing in front of me with her arms folded and a frown on her face. 

She sighed, "Are you going to keep making a fool out of yourself or are you going to come inside?"

Apparently I had been crying about two houses away from her house.

So, in the end I went to her house and ever since then we became good friends. She told me tons of stories about how the other old ladies in this town didn't like her because she fell in love and married the 'catch' of the town. And while we had our chats and dainty tea biscuits, she'd make my problems seem less unmanageable.