Polaroids and Postcards | ✔️

Chapter 27: Bad Attitudes + Beaver Suits

"Remember that happiness is a way of travel - not a destination." -Roy M. Goodman

•••

"You are absolutely brilliant, Jason Lovett!" Della squealed, shaking me in excitement. "They were eating that drama up! Better than reality television..."

I chuckled, chancing a glance down at my Della-handpicked outfit. I was still stuck in the stupid overalls, but at least we had fun buying them. And if I was lucky, Della would be too busy thinking about the scene we caused, so she would forget about taking-

"...but you do realize I'm still totally taking your picture, right??"

-nevermind.

"Seriously?" I groaned.

"It was a worthy effort at distraction, Lovett. Quite admirable." She took the next left, turning the steering wheel smoothly. The flower crown on her head rustled and threatened to fall off, but she saved it just in time. "Yet alas, Della Rae never forgets. But like I said, it was a nice try."

I crossed my arms over my chest and sank further back into my seat. Although, I'll admit, I wasn't too upset anymore. I had too much fun back there to be irritated anymore.

"Just tell me it isn't going to be a long, drawn-out ordeal..." I muttered. "I don't like posing for photos."

Della tittered, flashing me a smirk. "You're really gonna have to get over that when you win that music competition. Everyone and their sister's giddy aunt is going to beg for a photo and autograph with the famous Jason Lovett: singer extraordinaire."

I couldn't contain my bashful smile.

It wasn't just the compliment that affected me so strongly, though. It was her choice of words. When you win that music competition...

She fully expected me to win. She wasn't kidding. Della believed in me. And I wasn't sure why.

"Well, I definitely lost that open mic in Tennessee," I shrugged. "So what makes you so sure I'll win a huge competition?"

"Ohhh, that... Looking back, it's kinda obvious that open mic was totally rigged," Della sniffed disdainfully. "I'm pretty sure I saw that band kissing up to the owner and the judges. They weren't even that good. And the lead singer was a total creep. I mean, did you even see his mustache??"

I raised an incredulous eyebrow. "His mustache?"

"Trust me, you can tell a lot about a dude by his facial hair. And believe me, it was definitely not promising."

I lightly laughed, feeling somewhat comforted by her silly words of encouragement.

Again, it strikes me how well-spoken Della can be, given the right moment. She had this uncanny ability to say what I need to hear at just the right time. Not only that, but she had such a way with words, you couldn't help but believe what she what saying.

For instance, Della could say that the sky was purple on any given day, and you'd catch yourself contemplating it for an extended period, beginning to look at the sky from her point of view-and even start to go along with her ludicrous statement!

She had some kind of mysterious power, and the only word I could use to describe it was charisma. She just had this bubbly, magnetic personality and you just couldn't help but... love her for it. Even if you couldn't stand the shenanigans. You still had to love her and her enthusiasm.

Well... until she forced you fake a grin at a camera in front of a freaking barn. Which is what happened before I could file a decent complaint.

"Just stand there!" she directed, shoving me into the 'perfect' lighting. We had driven just a few minutes down the road and pulled over in front of this old, abandoned barn. The slight breeze that blew our way smelled like grass, hay, and warm soil. It was pleasant in its own weird way, I guess. The sun was setting in the distance, into what Della referred to as the 'golden hour'. She couldn't pass up the opportunity.