Chapter 2

No sex in this chapter, but there will be in the next. Thanks for being so patient!

My alarm clock sounded. I rolled clumsily out of bed and dropped a fist on top of the "off" button. Rubbing my eyes, I yawned and stumbled over to my dresser. I pulled out some boxers, shorts, a belt, and a t-shirt with three buttons on the front.

Halfway through pulling my shorts on, I remembered that I had to talk to Sara. I groaned and kept dressing after checking my phone to see that she still hadn't responded. The smell of pancakes filled the air, drawing me downstairs.

"Hey, bud." My dad said, briefly looking up from the griddle in front of him to gesture that I should sit down at one of the tall chairs behind the kitchen counter. He slid a glass of orange juice over to me and I grimaced in anticipation of the combination of the juice with my toothpaste.

I choked down a few sips before the bitter taste went away, just in time for some pancakes to slide over and accompany my juice. "Thanks." I said, cutting a huge piece of pancake with my fork and shoveling it into my mouth.

"Mhmm," My dad acknowledged, "I haven't cooked breakfast in a while, so I figured 'why not'?"

Then, my mom came sleepily from their bedroom. "Oh, you made breakfast?" She asked my dad, smiling broadly.

"It's been a while." He repeated, returning her smile.

She walked up and hugged him, craning her neck up to kiss him briefly. I made a disgusted noise and turned away.

"What?" My dad laughed at my discomfort, turning toward me and putting his hand on my mom's hip. "You should be happy that your parents are in lo-ove." He stretched out the "o" in "love" to be even more annoying.

"Blech." I responded.

"What?" My mom asked. "You afraid of cooties or something?"

"Good god, mom," I sighed, "I'm not eight."

"Speaking of 'eight'," my dad continued, "shouldn't you be going soon?"

"Dad, two things. One, that was the worst segue I've ever heard. Two, it's 7:45, so I don't have to leave for a while."

He harrumphed. "I thought it was an excellent segue. Didn't you, dear?" He looked at my mom.

"Of course, sweetie." She responded diplomatically.

I finished my pancakes and went to put away my dishes, but stopped suddenly. "Wait." I said, thinking of Sara's mysterious texts. "I just remembered that I have to get there a few minutes early today for history. I'm gonna get my stuff."

My parents looked confused, but I ignored them. Hoping that Eric would be ready, I shot him a text saying that I would be on my way soon and that he'd better get his ass out of bed. I grabbed my backpack and soccer bag and rushed to the door. "Thanks for breakfast love ya bye!" I said, clambering into my car and tossing my things into the backseat. My parents followed me into the garage and waved as I drove off to Eric's house.

It took me about five minutes to get there. Eric was waiting on his porch swing, like he usually did in the warm months. "What's the big rush?" He asked, dropping into the passenger seat.

I paused for a second to watch the road while I pulled onto the main road from his neighborhood's entrance. "Um, Sara texted me last night to tell me that she needed to talk to me before school this morning, but didn't explain more than that."

"What the hell?"

"That's what I said! Not that rudely, though."

"And you haven't talked to her in about two years, right?"

"Right." I confirmed. "It's probably nothing. You know how she is. Remember how she threw a fit once because Redwood's cafeteria didn't have fucking chocolate soy milk? She isn't even lactose intolerant!"

Eric laughed. "The weirdest part about that is that we were like six. Who the fuck drinks soy milk at that age?"

I laughed, too. "Now that I think about it, she did a ton of weird shit at Redwood. It's weird that you had a crush on her."

"Fuck you! I just thought she was hot, same as you did! Come to think of it, you probably made this whole thing up so that you could get some alone time with 'Soyra', because I think you still have a crush on her!"

Disregarding what he was actually saying, I focused on one word. "Did you just combine 'soy' and 'Sara' to make 'Soyra'?"

"So what if I did, bitch?" He retorted mock-defensively.

"You're a real dumbass." I told him, flipping the turn signal on.

"You know what," he went on, "I bet you fifty bucks she pulls some stupid shit to get me to go away so that she can talk to you one-on-one. She never liked me much, anyway. You were the only normal kid that she liked."

"Yeah, I-"

"Oh, shit!" Eric interrupted. "This is my jam!"

Led Zeppelin's Immigrant Song had come on the radio through my phone, which was playing my music via the auxiliary port.

"Since when are you a fan of classic rock?" I asked incredulously. He'd always been more of a hip-hop guy.

"We come from the land of the ice and snow!" Eric shouted over me, swinging his head around, his short gelled hair staying perfectly stiff throughout the process.

His enthusiasm was so great that I had to join in. "From the something something where the hot springs flow!"

We continued our duet until the end of the song, rocking out to various songs for the rest of the ride. Halfway through Down Under by Men at Work, which Eric didn't know the words to, we arrived at school. We walked over to Myers's room and saw Sara waiting for us outside the room.

"I'll just leave now." Eric said. "Good luck."

"Thanks, dude." I laughed nervously. He split off from me and walked around the corner in the direction of the library, where I assumed he was going.

When Sara noticed that I had arrived, she strode purposefully toward me.

"Uh, hi." I said, unsure of what to do. Our past friendship suggested that I should greet her warmly, but we hadn't exactly made any efforts to keep the friendship alive, leaving me in an awkward predicament.

"You're still smart, right Chris?" She asked, ignoring my greeting.

That took me off guard. "What? Yes? I don't see what-"

"I'm gonna need your help this year. My parents are threatening to send me to a boarding school if I don't get straight A's in freshman year and Myers's class is the only thing standing in my way."

"Sara, I'm not doing your homework for you." I said firmly, choosing not to mention how what she said didn't make any sense. My temper was rising as I realized that the only reason she was even talking to me was because she wanted to use me.

"No, that's not what I'm asking. I just-"

"You're not asking for shit, Sara! I haven't seen you in two years and the first thing you say is that you need my help to pass a class! We used to be friends!" I snapped. That shut her up. She stood there, speechless, for a moment.

"I- Um..." She began, but trailed off. Apologizing wasn't her strong suit; It takes some humility, and her supply of humility wasn't too big.

I sighed. "That's what I thought." I checked my phone: the bell would ring for school to begin in about a minute and then I would have five minutes to get to class. Might as well get there early. "It was nice to see you again, Sara." I said in an atonal voice that made it clear I was only still speaking to her out of politeness. I spun around slowly and took a step in the direction of class.

Sara seized my hand. "No, Chris! I'm ... sorry. I just didn't know what to say, since it had been so long and it was kinda awkward seeing you again." She looked up. Her eyes were the same electric blue that they had always been. "Listen, Chris; we can meet at Coffee Break after my cheer practice and catch up, okay? Then we can discuss you helping me. Here, let me put my number in your phone."

"I already have it, remember? Thanks to your clandestine mission last night."

"Oh, yeah ... Ok, so cheer practice ends at 5:15 today. Can we meet after that?" She asked.

"Soccer ends at 5:15, too." I responded, avoiding answering her question.

"So, 5:45?" She prompted.

"Sure." I said. Then, remembering to be a gentleman, I spoke again. "You need a ride?" I saw Eric poke his head around the corner, so I tried to send him telepathic messages saying to go away without alerting Sara.

She smiled genuinely and warmly for the first time in the conversation. "No, I can get one from my sister. Thanks, though."

I nodded and waited for her to leave.

Eric silently neared me, then opened his mouth. "What was that all about?"

I scratched my head, still a little stunned. The conversation felt like it had ended almost before it began. "Uh, she wants to 'catch up'." I neglected to mention the studying; it would only cause problems for other people to know that I would be helping her at this stage, not that I didn't trust Eric.

"That's it?" He was astonished.

"Yeah, well, you know how she is." I answered, though I had just seen a side of her that had remained hidden for all the years of us being friends.

"I guess." He responded suspiciously. "Don't be surprised if she's planning something, though."

"Yeah, thanks." I was grateful that Eric was concerned, but I wished he would give it a rest. "Hey, maybe don't mention this to the guys; I don't want any rumors started or anything."

"Sure, bro. Wouldn't want anyone to think that you were dating a real live girl, now would we?" He winked. I rolled my eyes. There was no way he was keeping that promise.

We joined our friends in class, which proceeded much the same as it did yesterday, except without any quizzes. I never made eye contact with Sara and she left as soon as the bell rang, so we didn't have to talk again, thank Buddha.

The rest of the day flew by. I guess that's what happens when you have a "date" (really more of a meeting) with a hot girl coming up and you keep wishing it was tomorrow. I told myself not to be a pussy, though, and kept from postponing or canceling on Sara.

After soccer, I dropped Eric off and showered thoroughly, throwing on some nicer shorts and a clean shirt. I told my parents that I was meeting a friend from Redwood, which was technically true, and that I shouldn't be too long. I arrived at Coffee Break at 5:50 and made my way to the door. Their logo, a shattered coffee mug with googly eyes --get it? Coffee 'Break'?-- looked down at me from the top of the glass door.

While I opened the door, I looked through it and saw Sara sitting at a circular two-person table on the edge of the single room, sipping at an iced coffee and tapping away on her phone. I entered, greeting the nose-ringed barista with a small smile and pointing myself in the direction of Sara's table, determined to be friendly and open no matter what Sara said. I felt that I'd been a little harsh earlier and wanted to make up for it.

She still hadn't noticed my by the time I got to her table. "Is this seat taken?" I asked with a small smile.

She looked impatient for a moment, then realized who I was and regained her composure. "No, um, sit down."

"I think I'm gonna get a drink, first." I told her.

She nodded once and went back to her phone, so I ambled over to the counter. The barista smiled again. "What can I get ya?" She asked with the quirky eagerness that seems to come standard with independent coffee shops' baristas.

"I'll have a small Break-uccino, please."

"Coming right up."

The aforementioned "Break-uccino" was a bit of a stretch of a portmanteau of "Coffee Break" and "cappuccino", but it was delicious. Some kind of strange smoothie of coffee and ice, it was the only coffee I would drink. My parents insisted that the taste of coffee was an acquired one, and would grow on me as I got older, but anything that wasn't loaded with sugar still tasted way too bitter for me.

"You want whipped cream?" She asked.

"No, thanks." I responded. When baristas put whipped cream on drinks, they always put less drink in the cup to make room for the whipped cream, which seems silly to me. Therefore, I refuse whipped cream on principle.

Within seconds, the barista had delicately placed my drink on the counter with a tattoo-covered hand. "That'll be $4.35."

I raised my eyebrows at the cost, thinking of the Starbucks scene in the Lego movie, and slapped down a five on the counter. She gave me the change, which I promptly dropped into the tip jar. "Thanks." I said, returning to my table. The barista only nodded and smiled once more; she was already busy with the next customer.

Sara looked up to see me returning and placed her phone down on the table. I sat down and sipped my drink for a minute, waiting for her to speak. When she didn't, I did. "So, cheer, huh?"

"Mhmm. And track."

"What events?" I wondered aloud.

"Hundred meter and pole jump." She said matter-of-factly.

I nodded seriously. "So, you're good on the pole?

"Yup." She confirmed, not getting the double entendre.

I decided to push the joke a little further. "At least you'll have a way to get yourself through law school, then." Might have been risky to open with a joke like that, but we were there on my terms, so I didn't feel too concerned.

She looked shocked, as if she had forgotten that I could make jokes, but laughed after a second. "Sure. Not law school, though. It seems so boring."

"Still wanna be a nurse, then?"

"Yeah, how did you-?" She stopped and shook her head, amazed. "Wow, you really do have a good memory."

"Well," I said, "I definitely didn't get this far on work ethic. I'm severely lacking in that department. And," I added, "I could've forgotten and just be a stalker."

"Uh-uh." She said surely. "That never seemed like your style."

"Style? I wasn't aware that I had a style."

"Everybody does. Give me a few minutes of talking to you and I'll decide what yours is. It's been a while and I don't have a perfect memory." She replied.

"Well, give me something to talk about, then."

"Okay, um..." She thought for a moment, "What's your favorite movie?"

I barely hesitated. "Interstellar."

"Nerd." She shot back, grinning slightly.

This was good; she was smiling. Just to keep her guessing, I put on an affronted look, which wiped the grin off of her face. "I prefer the term 'enthusiast'."

"No, I didn't mean-" she stopped when she saw my smile break out; I couldn't keep pretending to be offended. "Dick."

"Potty mouth." I folded my arms and reclined a bit in my chair.