Racing Against the Constellations

Prologue

*Stylish Chapter Break: graphic by the lovely avadel

As a simple neighborhood road of East Atlanta, this one is not typical.

What hell of an authority leaves a road in its current state? Yes, I know, the main culprit is a natural phenomenon: downpour. But not like they've no faults in this.  Even in the past, they never fixed it. Kept giving promises, but never could get the job done. I've no idea if that'll ever turn into a reality, but this rain sure has made my burgundy shrug adapt the look of a long awaited piece of clothing that hasn't had the opportunity to be placed into the washing machine. Those slimy stains, gosh, I'll not get rid of them so easily. 

The road looks like it's gonna crack at any moment. Not to mention the way puddles of water have intrinsically emerged on it from the heavy, black-and-white-themed raindrops, which are splashing slimy water in every direction. Large grey clouds are overcasting the sky above, leaving little scope for light to enter through. My umbrella's not helping me any way.

And that's not all. As soon as I make a turn and arrive at the familiar road, my gaze falls on the dive bar. The warm, brick-liked brown paint on the walls with black borders around the top is enhancing its dingy atmosphere with every patter of the rain. Overall mood, as usual, gloomy and dirty, full of dirty people and foods which I'm sure will taste like poison. My brows crease with disgust when I see the customers of the bar through the glass windows, bordered with the same black paint. Roaring, gossiping, taking swigs from their drinks. Some seem to be swaying their bodies to the beat of an upbeat, weird song I've never heard, but it is nothing good.

Three weeks have passed since this grim-looking bar was built, and since then, all sorts of filthy, uncultured idiots have been drooling over this place, hanging out and who knows what else they really do. I haven't seen them leave the bar at all. They keep sticking around, like it's the only place for them to stay. And so, they get the chance to do the most disturbing, illegal things in this seemingly peaceful area. Maybe that's been bugging me the most nowadays. It looks like a shabby chunk of misery that gives off all the negative vibes. Wanna know what vibe it gives me? The one which starts boiling the blood in my veins.

Those guys won't stop staring at me like they've never seen a young girl before. If I ever lose my cool...Well, I gotta say they'll regret what's going to happen next. But maybe, I can do nothing. I just stamp quietly, hoping one day the police may tear it apart.

Today also isn't an exception. Even though it's raining cats and dogs, and the fewest human beings out here are having a hard time getting into their houses, the scene inside the bar is different. People boozing there don't look like they know what's happening outside, and they won't care. I try my best not to look at them as I pass by the bar.

The rain has been pouring since 12 pm, and it still doesn't want to stop. I mean, is it not happy by now, watching me in pain? Half of my attire is dripping wet, yet I keep wading through the puddles, fisting the designed edges of my draping shrug to keep it from touching the watery surface, while the other has a firm grip on the brown umbrella that is at least capable of protecting my dark brown hair. Because of this stupid rain, I'm half-soaked, half-dry, there was hardly any bus or taxi on the street, and of course, it had to be today to get my backpack torn. Really, pathetic!

Finally, I reach the entrance of my apartment building. I drop the useless umbrella, and take in the parking lot, where rows of colorful cars are displaying the example of the orderliness. I'm tired. Fighting all that hurricane back to my house has really stressed me out. At least now I'm back to the safest place in the world. I sigh in relief.

As I'm about to enter, I hear some loud, muffled voices calling, "James, hurry up!"

My head tilts at my left to see a pale boy picking up paces to the end of the road, where a bunch of strangers of his age are waving and calling him. I glance back at him. He's tall, wearing a chocolate brown polo shirt with dark blue jeans and black sneakers. His face is the definition of perfection: a pair of dark, confident eyes, stray strands of his straight black hair sticking to his forehead. A small pleated scarf is secured around his white neck. He's soaking wet from head-to-toe, but he seems to enjoy the rain.

His eyes snap towards me and they linger on mine for a few seconds, with him licking his pink, sloppy lips as they patiently observe me. An intensifying sensation blazes in those eyes, a darkness mightier than the deadliest sins, compelled by conundrum like the starriest sphere in the dead of night. It burns holes deep into my eyes, fuelling a strange storm inside my soul, a storm worth competing with the coming one around me, and overdosing me with the confidence that mine's going to win if freed. I can't let it be freed. Do I need to?

I... I don't even have a clue why I'm feeling like this. So powerful, so conquering.

Why am I even staring?

I tear my eyes from him, and the storm dies down. I can tell he has broken the eye contact almost at the same time. A soft breath abandons my lips. Was he waiting for me to do it first? Uh, who cares?

My hands travel to the wall I find at the first stroke, which I forgot was still the entrance I've been at. I quickly step inside, ready to walk away from the storm which is quite settling in. But I look back for God knows why only to see the boy approaching his group as they disappear into the dark bar.

Feels like the nature is making fun of me for giving up. Did I knowingly let her win?

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