picture: august

five

~ two weeks later ~

She licked her lips, increased the pressure on the acceleration and drank in the wind that cleaved through her dark hair. One hand propped up on the window sill, she hummed the bubblegum tune from the radio station. The sunlight was dark golden through her shades but the heat was seeping into her skin even during the late evening hour.

She would have missed him if it had not been for the new canvas set to shift slightly in the passenger seat. Reaching over, she tucked the apparatus safely under the seatbelt, nudging it ever so slowly to test the rigidity. Satisfied, she gave her undivided attention to driving again, but she saw him then.

Maybe it was the sense of content, or the sudden bravery that sometimes takes over her, or the happiness that comes with the first day of August. Or maybe it was him. Hunched shoulders, hands in his jeans pockets, head down as if counting every broken cobblestone on the way - that drew her to him. She hit the brakes steadily, making sure the car pulled up next to him.

"James?" She questioned, even though she could recognize him from miles away. Pushing her shades up in her hair, she looked at him. And boy, he looked pretty bad up close. And he had to be messed up royally for her to admit James would ever look bad. Not physically, ofcourse. It was the eyes.

He appeared to be broken through a trance and focused his green eyes on hers. "Hey, August."

"Are you alright?" She didn't know how the courage to talk to him had birthed inside of her. Sure, it was different during school. She could hold a conversation with hundreds of people watching them, like a blanket of safety. Here? In the middle of a street, it felt like a glitch in the matrix. Talking to a boy from school, when they aren't forced by a universal law to occupy the same space. Talking to James. There was no party to run away to this time. No distractions.

"Oh yeah. I'm good," he shook his head, as if literally shaking away thoughts. His hair swayed ever so slightly with the movement and she caught herself captivated. Because if August knew anything in the world, it was painting and James. And he was clearly not 'good'.

"Liar. You look like you need company." She couldn't help the smile that slipped, "Come on, get in the car. Let's drive."

Next thing she knew, she was hauling away the new canvas set to the back seat where it watched her actions through a lens of betrayal. James didn't protest and walked around the car, welcoming himself in her personal space. Breathing the same air as hers.

~•~

When the golden glow of morning light hit her semi-conscious eyelids, August ached to clutch at the fading images of her dream. Images of certain green eyes and dark hair, of solid hands holding her close, of butterfly kisses his fingers left on her bare back skin.

She bolted right up, scared and shocked, panting heavily. Her forehead was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and her heart beat rapidly beneath her tank top. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts and remember her surroundings, even if it was the same room she'd woken up in her whole life. She felt somewhere far away from home. Far away from reality. Mentally cursing herself - and her life - she slipped back and scooted into the comfort of her quilt.

It was impossible to fall back asleep so her thoughts went back to him. Now fully conscious. She couldn't have imagined yesterday's events to play out the way it did when she invited James to drive with her. She purely intended to ease whatever pain he was experiencing; though now it feels utterly pathetic to think she could have any effect on him. But the moment had attracted her like a moth to flame.

They drove together in silence for a while, save for the gushing wind mixing with their breaths. It was evident James' mind was distracted beyond her capacity to understand, and August didn't dare say the wrong thing. She hadn't thought the situation through, so she simply drove. Until he jerked back to reality and asked her if she wanted a milkshake. Pitifully leaping at the opportunity to spend more time with him, she agreed.

James got her a Hershey's Chocolate on her request and Caramel Fudge for himself. Since they didn't have a destination to advance to, she stationed her car behind the mall's parking lot and they sipped their milkshakes together. First in silence. But her curiosity coerced her into asking what was troubling him. Then the silence was filled in with James' voice relishing every thought in his jumbled head as he poured it out to her.

August knew Betty. Who didn't know the most perfect girl in their town, but that's not how she knew her. Betty was James' girlfriend. And rightly so. She was everything August could never be. They are a perfect fit. So when he rambled on about how they broke up - not the details, just the tangled mess of his thoughts and his scathing fury at her because of some other guy, she couldn't quite believe her ears. As much she loved to listen to James, she was unable to concentrate on any fact other than the one that he broke up. That James was single. Ofcourse, she loathed herself the next instant but it was inevitable for her to think that way.

James was her hopeless crush. The epicenter of her imaginations since freshman year. The unattainable daydream. The definition of close-but-far. Everything she could never have.

So their she sat, in the heat of her car, guarding her feelings and sipping the milkshake James bought for her while he poured his heart out to her. What took her by surprise was the way he thanked her later. For the ride, for the company, for bearing with him, for listening to him.

As if she wouldn't ruin her entire being for him a million little times.

So she thanked him for the milkshake in return. He had grinned a heart stopping smile that curled August's insides with an ache that was all too familiar but heightened this time, which in turn led to her fantasy dream this morning.

But that's all it was. A fantasy dream.

~•~

If you had told August that morning how quickly her fantasy dreams would be changing to reality, she would have clutched her stomach and laughed till it ached her insides. But here she stood again, under the slanted shade of the mall, leaning against the hood of her car and talking to James. Well, mostly listening.

He had called her in the afternoon and asked if she was free. August would have said yes even on her wedding day.

August was an artist. One look at her room and anyone could confirm. Tonnes of sheets of mindless drawings always scattered around her workspace. The shelves on her walls were brimming with paint brushes of every size, acrylics, water and poster colours, fabric pieces, spray paints, textured sheets, craft sheets, and every other item she collected since she was eleven. The more professional of her artwork was displayed in their living room, on the walls through the hallways and staircases. For most part, she did a good job at keeping her 'bedroom' side of the room free from the mess. But the walls were still occupied with finished paintings and sketches.

She was mixing her paints, her mind wandering through the imaginative gallery, musing for an idea when James interrupted her with his call. So she had longingly looked at her new canvas, promising it that she would work on it soon, and bid it a happy goodbye. She drove to the mall as fast as she could and he was already there, skating on the pavement.

They walked aimlessly through the mall, talking and laughing. Every now and then, his shoulder would brush against hers, or he would touch her arm pointing at something, or her fingers would feel the warmth of his sweatshirt. While sitting, the tops of their knees would press slightly, or she would slap his hand away from stealing a candy. In August's mind, every minute gesture was heightened and she had never been more aware of him. She had felt like an out of body experience but the reverse kind. Like anything beyond him and her didn't exist. Like light only made way with their footsteps and it was darkness beyond them and behind them. Her canvas seemed a lifetime away.

Now she was lazily leaning on her car, watching him talk because she stopped listening about his debate competition a good five minutes ago. She memorized the exact colour of his skin and the angle at which his nose bended a little. His hair was a glorious kind of mess and she felt the skin of her palm heat up, desperate to touch it. She breathed in his scent. He was standing too close. Or maybe she's imagining that. Or maybe she was subconsciously leaning towards him. It was hard to grasp what was real when your mind wandered through fairytales. Or when James' breath was fanning her nose.

She didn't know who did it first but she knew he had stopped talking. He hadn't spoken for a good ten seconds before she felt the softness of his lips touching hers. Every rational thought that ever mustered in her mind flew out the window and she felt completely blank in the common sense department. She felt herself stand up and inch closer to him, but a breeze of warm evening air drifted through her hair and she snapped her eyes open. She pushed him away.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that." Her hands covered her face, partly to hide her flushed cheeks, partly the embarrassment. "I'm really sorry, James."

"No, it's okay. You don't have to be sorry." When she didn't look at him, she felt his hands around hers, slowly removing them from her face. "I ..It was okay, really."

He was dangerously close to her again. And something in his eyes told her that he wouldn't mind if she kissed him again. "But that was wrong. You just broke up with Betty. And I don't know if I should -"

"I think you should. I think .." His breath was picking up and his mind was whirling with thoughts. "I think I need it."

Still holding her hands, he took one step and the distance was non-existent. Between them and between their lips. He kissed her this time. Gently but roughly. Desperately but slowly. Their tongues clashed and tasted the other. She slipped her hands from his and thrusted them into his hair, pulling it ever so slightly. She heard a soft moan but it was hard to tell who made the sound when their mouths were in each other's. James rested his hands around her waist and scooped her up, settling her on the car hood. She deepened the kiss further, craving for more and more.

Somehow, she knew this wouldn't last. This wouldn't end up with a fairytale ending where she would be walking down the aisle holding flowers and looking at him in a tuxedo. But that didn't matter. She was kissing James. And if the world ended tomorrow, it didn't matter. In this very moment, with his strong arms wrapped around her back and the taste of his tongue dripping down her throat, August found herself the happiest she could have ever been.

~•~