Parking Lot Dates: Rose

We're on the trunk of Ben's Mercedes, talking at our favorite spot. An empty Walmart parking lot. It's late and I should be getting home.

"Let's head back. Grandma isn't going to believe that studying takes this long."

"You're being paranoid." It's his favorite line.

I'm underneath his arm. He kisses the top of my head.

"But, alright. I'll take you back." He looks into my eyes. "One last kiss?"

It's long and tender. His thumb gently traces my jawline.

"Ben!" I giggle when he bites my lip.

He grins. "What? I thought you liked that?"

"You know I don't."

Smile lines imprint around his mouth. "Won't happen again."

I've heard that one before.

He slides off the trunk, and starts up the car, whipping out of the lot with one hand. "You know you're my golden girl, right?"

He says it as I'm mid buckle.

A bashful smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. "I know."

~

Before I go to bed, I dig through my drawers until I'm certain that Angie has borrowed the shirt that I want to wear tomorrow. I knock on her door but she doesn't answer, so I let myself in.

I find her sitting criss cross on the bed, surrounded by clumps of hair. She holds a pair of scissors in her hand, still snipping away at her curls.

I'm stunned and stuck in the doorway until her watery eyes peer up.

"There's a video going around." She sighs, sounding stuffed. "Everyone's calling me a slut."

My chest is tight. "What video?"

Her lips twitch. "Of me and Dan."

My heart sinks. "Oh. He recorded it?"

She winces when I ask, but keeps her eyes on me. "It's of us in the backseat of his car. That was enough for people to piece together the rest."

I take a seat at the foot of the bed, trying my best to ignore the hair. "I'm sorry Angie. Don't focus on them, they've all done worse. People just like to gossip."

She lets me take the scissors away from her shaky hand.

"You've had rumors spread about you before, though. What made you cut your hair?"

"I needed a new look."

"Either one is fine." I fluff out her hair, and examine the damage. Her curls rest on her shoulders now.

"How do I look?" She sniffles, wiping her wet nose.

"Like a young Lisa Bonet." I give her a hug. "It works for you." When I pull back she still looks down. "Stay home tomorrow. Say you're sick, I'll vouch for you."

She rests her chin on her knees. "It wouldn't be a lie."

I hesitate. "I love you, Ang. You know that you can always talk to me, don't you?"

"I know. Love you too."

I'm given a weak smile before she pulls out her headphones, signaling that this conversation is over. It stings, but I respect her wish to be alone and close the door on my way out.