Summer of 69

Chapter 2: You Really Got Me

May 25th, 1969

Stiles waited patiently at the Ghost Light Café, he looked down at his watch and it read 3:45pm. Shit, did she stand me up? Stiles thought. He dragged his left hand through his messy hair nervously as he waited for Hope to join him. He looked out the window to see Scott across the street watching him. Scott waved, Stiles waved back and shook his head. Scott insisted that he come to see how everything went down.

The Café was quiet for a Sunday afternoon, only a few people were chatting. The speakers were playing "Crimson and Clover," by Tommy James and the Shondells. Stiles put his head in his hands as he continued waiting.

"I am so sorry I'm late," Hope said out of breath. Stiles' head shot up to see Hope standing next to the table huffing and puffing. She was in waitress uniform, her hair was up in a high pony tail, she had big hoops hanging in her ears. Stiles didn't answer her at first; he was too in awe of her.

"Stiles," Hope sat down in the seat cross from him.

"Pardon me... what did you say?" Stiles shook his head.

"I was running late, it got really busy at the diner."

"Oh, your fine, don't need to apologize," Stiles smiled.

"Good, how long have you been waiting?"

"Not too..." Stile began to say until a waitress interrupted him.

"What would you two like to drink?" an older woman with a beehive hairstyle asked. "I'll take a green tea with honey," Hope said.

"Black coffee for me," Stiles answered.

"Tell me about yourself, Stiles, are you from San Francisco?" Hope took sip of her tea.

"No, I'm actually from Beacon Hills, California," Stiles shook his head, with a side smile.

"You're a California boy, then," Hope chuckled, she brought her tea back down onto the oak table.

"What about you, are you a Cali girl?" Stiles took a drag off his cigarette.

"No, I'm not. I've only been out here since '66. Lydia and I moved out to California after high school, we're both from Big Stone Gap," Hope answered Stiles.

"Never heard of it," Stiles narrowed his eyes at her.

"It's a small town in the hills of Virginia," Hope reached over the table taking Stiles cig out of his hand and taking a hit off it. Stiles loved how she had no boundaries.

"Cool, what was your home life like? If you don't mind me asking?" Stiles leaned over the table a little.

"I don't mind..." Hope shyly smiled, "Where do I start," Stiles watched Hope closely. Stiles noticed how her nose wrinkled up as she was think.

"Well I lived on a farm most of my life, my mother had a nervous breakdown when I was 8 left. So, it was just my father raising my sister Susan and me. I was raised Baptist, which I didn't care for the strict rules and that's why I left when I turned 18 — ­haven't talked to my father since," Hope said, as she knocked the loose ashes in the ashtray, and kept it there.

"Do you talk to your sister still?"

"I talk to Susan once a month, or whenever I can, or she can. How about you, handsome, what was your homelife like?" Hope looked up from under her eyelashes as a small smile formed on her face. Stiles cracked a smile.

Stiles thought for a moment. He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell her about his father; he was pretty much dead to him since he dropped out of the Police academy.