image [https://64.media.tumblr.com/486299f133f539aefaa85ac6787e8742/eb4050a4301a6876-a7/s540x810/d889bd861d1a136df6e03897ed6b52fdd694374c.pnj]

I'm sinking into the passenger seat, scanning the small, flashing red sign in the window, indicating that the restaurant is open. One of the bars blocks part of the letter "n," but I don't notice that for about five minutes because I'm too captivated by the flickering light beneath the sign. After the workout, Mark and I decided to stop at our favorite restaurant for a pizza. But when we reached the door, and I grabbed the handle, I realized that the door was locked despite the sign. Disappointed, we trudged back to the car when Mark pointed out that people were busy in the kitchen, which he could see through the window. That's how we ended up calling them from outside, ordering two pizzas to-go, and now we're waiting for them to be handed through the window. The window's lights beckon as if I could actually walk through the door.

My friend breaks my daydreaming, not him, exactly, but the click of the lighter in his hand. I watch out of the corner of my eye as he tries to make the storm lighter work, but after a few seconds, he tosses the empty lighter out of the Volkswagen's window, reaching out his hand for mine. I pass him the silver Zippo I had left on the dashboard, slowly. He hands it back in the same way after lighting his cigarette, and since I already have to move again, I decide to break the idyllic silence by connecting to the radio. I don't have to search long; in this perfectly arranged mess, I know Falling Down will sound great, and judging by Mark's reaction, I was right.

A gentle smile on his face tells me that he also thinks the atmosphere in the car is like something out of a movie, except no film could really capture this moment.

The skin on his face tightens as he tilts his head back toward the ceiling, exhaling smoke through his nose, eyes half-closed. He's enjoying his little crime too much, no actor could replicate the eerie feeling that Mark's expression stirs in me. He notices me watching, so I quickly turn my gaze away, focusing again on the sign in the window, but now it's just not the same.

“Do you want one?”

“Yeah... but we shouldn't make it a habit.”

“This is fine. We're tired and don't even have the energy to talk.” although I understand the connection between exhaustion and the need for nicotine, I'm still not entirely sure I couldn't argue with that.

In any case, I take a cigarette from the pack resting by the gearshift, lower the window, and do the same as he does. As the minutes pass by, the songs play on the radio, and we focus on everything but each other. I feel a sense of shared solitude, though I don't exactly feel alone. It's like when I used to invite my best friend over as a kid just so we could do nothing together.

Our quiet respite is interrupted by a woman's voice. At her soft clamor, Mark jumps out of the car, heads to the window, picks up the two boxes, pays in cash, and leaves a tip.

“These two beauties are here!”

“We don't have any drinks.” I respond as he settles back into his seat.

“There's some water left in the bag, I'll dig it out.”

Before I can reply, he tosses the pizza boxes onto my lap, takes the last drag of his cigarette, carelessly flicks the butt out of the window, and dives into the back seat with the grace of a volleyball player trying to save the game. The basketball hits the floor, or judging by the sound, it lands on the rubber mat.

“Let's keep everything in its place…” I mutter softly, taking a drag of my cigarette instead of commenting on his struggle.

“Got it!” I noticed the familiar hand in the rearview mirror, triumphantly raising the water bottle.

“So... what's the plan for today?”

“We eat.”

“Wow…” I flick my cigarette butt out the window, just as he did. “Anything else?”

“Pub?”

“You're always trying to get me to drink when you can't have a drop because of your license.”

“I don't see the problem. You drink, I chat.” The bottle ends up beside the gearshift, and one of the boxes lands in Mark's lap.

I decide not to argue with Mark; instead, I start eating the pizza while watching the road. The more I think about it, this is the meaning of life, I've realized.

At almost twenty-three, there's nothing more uplifting than the scene before me in this cool seventeen-degree weather. A police car is about forty meters away, flashing its lights at a Mazda, while in the background, a Subaru's engine revs, making a "vutututututu" sound, and the officer turns his head at the noise.

“I'll be damned if they don't take his license.”

“Agreed.” I glance at Mark, then turn my attention back to the car in front of us.

Unfortunately, we don't find out whether the Mazda's owner got a fine, but it's clear that the Subaru driver wasn't so lucky. The flashing lights vanish in the direction of the Subaru. We finish eating in silence, not because we don't feel like talking, but because the basketball game has left our brains and bodies completely fried.

Every inch of me tingles. I'm living in the moment as if a furnace were burning in my chest, with someone having just thrown in a sack of coal. I didn't manage to finish the pizza, as usual; by the seventh slice, Mark took over and finished what I had started. In an insulin-shocked state, I look at him, gasping for air, and let out a death rattle of a sound to signal that he should hand over the water because I'm too exhausted to reach for it myself.

“You've got to be kidding…” he raises an eyebrow.

“No, please.”

“Here.” he hands me the bottle, and I thank him with a feeble smile.

“Want to burn off what we just ate?”

“No, definitely not.” I answered after downing the water.

“I was thinking a walk.”

“Oh... I'm up for that, but let's wait a bit.”

“Do you feel like talking about something deep and draining?”

“I'm totally waisted… What do you want to talk about?”

“Yeast infections?”

“What?” I jerk my head up, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Well… they do burn.”

“I'd rather we go!” I shove the pack of cigarettes into my pocket along with the lighter. I roll up the window, turn off the radio, and finally step out of the car.

“Oh, come on, don't say that!” his loud laughter makes me chuckle too. Leaning on the car, I watch him as he rolls up the window, locks the doors, and finally checks if he has his wallet.

“Oh... my wallet!”

“You don't need it, we're just going for a walk.”

“Still, I'd feel more comfortable having it with me.”

“So, you're telling me I should open the door now, and watch you rummage through your gym bag to find that little black thing among your black clothes...”

I hum at his reasoning, my eyes narrow at the thought, but in the end, I head toward the promenade. It's not worth it; we're not going to spend anything, we'll just take a walk and then head back home to Clinton.

The lit street always gives the same vibe to the road. Dim yellow lights that don't overpower the shop signs, quiet people sitting on benches, many walking their dogs or just rushing about their business. The stars aren't out yet, but it's getting dark, and this is when people really start to come alive.

“Hey Nina... Have you noticed that this fountain seems to always have more and more coins in it, yet somehow there's less?” at his words, I turn my head to look at the fountain. It still amazes me how the angel releases the water.

“Honestly, that's not what I usually focus on... ” at my awkward smile, he lifts his gaze back to the fountain, and finally follows it all the way up to the statue.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“You see these things in a lot of places.”

“Yeah, lots of cities have fountains.” I turn my head away from the object and continue down the promenade, Mark diligently following. “I should put a leash on you.”

“You're so funny.” he grabs my arm, which startles me a bit, but when a stream of cars passes in front of me, I look up at the light. It's red. “I just saved your life, again.”

“A knight in shining armor. Isn't that your job?”

“Yep, princess. Though I'm more of a scruffy kid in a beat-up Volkswagen.” his words make me laugh out loud as I step toward the pole and press the worn-out "STOP" button.

“You have a weird self-image.”

“Blame my parents, you know.” at his shrug, I glance up at his face. His eyes gleam with sincerity, and there's a soft curve to his lips, so I give him an encouraging smile. “Hey, want to pop into the mall?”

“Sure, why not?” I don't respond to his rhetorical question, just glance up at the light. When it changes color, we head across the street.

Luckily, we don't have to walk far. The mall, two blocks away, towers over the other shops invitingly. Its revolving door beckons, pushing out warmth, and the soft music playing inside automatically tempts me to buy something. I'm already regretting not bringing my wallet. I glance at Mark, who shrugs, so I raise my eyebrows and do the same before heading toward the escalator. Standing a step higher than him, I straighten up, trying to let him know that for once, I'm taller than he is. "Nice try," his smile says, and he straightens up too.

I turn back on the escalator, and a few moments later, I step off with Mark close behind. For some reason, there's a lot of people here today, so it would be unwise to lose sight of each other.

“Want to go in there?” he points to the entrance of New Yorker, and I'm glad for the suggestion, though my smile fades after just a moment.

“Are you just trying to tease me?”

“If you really like something, I'll buy it, and you can pay me back in the car.”

“I love you!” with that simple phrase, I grab his hand and lead him into the store.

The shop isn't small, but it's so packed with merchandise and people that it's hard to move around. First, we check out the t-shirts, then the pants, and though they look great, they're just not worth the price. I press my lips together at the realization that everything is overpriced, so I head over to the men's section with Mark, hoping he'll find something interesting, and he does. He's eyeing a gray hoodie with Asian lettering on the back.

“Do you like it?” I ask as I slip on his own hoodie, which he had carelessly thrown over to me. I try it on.

“Yeah, but not the price, although that blue color does look good on you.”

“I know, I'm thinking of keeping it.” I have no intention of doing so, but to make my words believable, I take a few steps toward the mirrors and start adjusting my brown hair to match the garment.

Mark doesn't respond, instead turning back to inspect the hoodie he's interested in, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinizes the fabric. But it doesn't last long, suddenly, he looks up and heads toward the women's underwear section. I tilt my head questioningly, but he says nothing, just starts walking in that direction. My eyebrows raise involuntarily, and out of curiosity, I follow him, only to see something that makes it all worthwhile. Christopher, along with another guy, is standing at the bras, pressing the cups with their fingers, humming appreciatively. Mark's face twists at the sight, his lips moving in a weird way, as if he wants to say something but can't find the words. Then finally... he does. Out of nowhere, he starts pointing at his hoodie.

At first, I don't get it, but the second time, it becomes clear that he's after his phone, which is tucked in his pocket. I hand him his phone, standing on my toes and steadying myself on his shoulders, trying to figure out what he plans to do with it. What I didn't expect is for him to crank up the volume and take a picture to scare them to death. Christopher's friend jumps high in the air, whipping his head back, his face turning bright red, and I can't help but grin at the situation.

“This is not what it looks like!” Christopher tries to explain, while his friend just covers his face.

“Sure, I'm just surprised that Gerry is in on this weird perversion of yours.”

“We're picking out a bra for Chris' girlfriend. He said she's about the same size as my girlfriend...” Gerry explains, embarrassed.

“Uh-huh...” I let out, releasing Mark's broad shoulders.

“But seriously! Now that you're here, Nina...” and with these words, Christopher pulls a leather bra off the rack and thrusts it toward me with sparkling eyes. I don't even have time to react before Mark smacks it out of his hand.

“Don't even think about it, Christopher!”

“Calm down! I wasn't serious...” Chris picks up the piece of clothing from the floor and puts it back in its place, but the atmosphere remains just as awkward.

“So, you must be Nina.” Gerry introduces himself, trying to ease the tension.

“And you must be Gerry, nice to meet you.”

“Oh, yeah, Gerry wasn't at the pub last time.” Mark comments.

“No, but I'll be there tonight.”

“What?” I look up at him, his dark brown hair and those absinthe-green eyes... He's probably broken quite a few hearts.

“Dante and Derek are already there, waiting for us.”

“And here you are, fondling bras, Chris, instead of heading over.” Mark pats Chris on the shoulder, who responds with an eye-roll.

“Doesn't matter. Do you guys want to come?”

“I don't know... Mark, do you feel like going?”

“Sure, we can go.” My friend smiles at me, so we all decide to head to the pub together.

The guys continue to joke around about the bras, even speculating what Chris would've done if he were buying underwear for his girlfriend. I don't want to get involved in this conversation; the situation is already awkward enough for me. Luckily, "I Don't Know" isn't far from here, just four blocks down the promenade, then two more well-lit areas to pass through.

“Finally!” Derek exclaims as soon as he sees us, while Dante greets us with a smile. I sit across from him as the guys rearrange the chairs.

“What are you drinking?”

“Whatever.” that's all Mark needs to hear before he heads inside with Chris. Gerry sits next to Derek, and I let out a long sigh.

“You guys are quite the surprise guests.” Derek says, and I look up at him silently. I don't really have much to say; I'm exhausted.

“How are you, Nina?” Dante asks, but he doesn't look at me; he's more interested in his glass of whiskey.

“Tired, and you?”

“Drunk.”

“So... how did you and Mark meet, Nina?” Gerry's question makes my pupils widen. I'm not even sure how to start explaining, and Dante's gaze doesn't help, it's making me more nervous.

“In elementary school, we often had the option to either play basketball or soccer during P.E. Not many chose basketball, but it brought a small group of us closer together.”

“That sounds great, like a little family... ” Dante smiles sideways at me, which makes me glance away.

“We went our separate ways in high school, but we still hung out with the group. Some of us got closer, while others we only saw at games. It really felt like home.”

“What felt like home?” Mark asks as he sits down beside me, placing a bright blue cocktail in front of me. It doesn't look weak.

“What's this?”

“A cocktail?”

I don't even bother responding. I'm too tired to argue at this point, so I take a sip, but then quickly push the glass away. It burns my throat and stomach, and after a day like this, it's not what I need.

“Not for you?”

“Nope.” With that, I shove the glass away again, this time as far as I can. Everyone stares at the drink, their eyes battling each other for the alcohol. Dante wins the fight, grabbing the glass and downing it in one go.

“Come on, I'll treat you to something else.” the victor stands up, inviting me for another drink. I'm surprised by his kindness, and for some reason, I follow him instinctively, like my life depends on it. Even Mark seems surprised, watching as I walk behind Dante like I'm on a leash, though I can't bring myself to look into his eyes.

There are a few steps leading to the door, which Dante opens for me politely. Inside, there are even more steps that lead to the main area. To the left, there are tables and couches, and straight ahead is the bar, with restrooms nearby.

The yellow lighting dominates here too, just like on the street. The barmaids are busy attending to the customers, the music is loud but not overpowering, it's a much cozier bar than others I've been to.

“What are you having?” Dante's voice pulls me back as he sits on one of the stools, leaning on the bar and studying me. His gaze is intense, or maybe there's something else about it. Every time I try to look into his eyes, I feel this shy, girlish discomfort, yet there's also this compulsion to take a look at them.

“Whiskey with me?”

“Sure!” without hesitation, I take a seat next to him.

The barmaids take a little while to get to us, but when they do, Dante orders the drinks. He taps his fingers impatiently on the counter, and that's when I notice his rings, black lacquer and silver, with one on his index and ring fingers.

“So, how long have you known Mark?”

“Since first grade, how about you?”

“Since the start of high school. He's changed a lot since then.”

“He'll always be the same guy in my eyes as he was when we were kids.”

“Do you see each other often?”

“Almost every other day, if not every day.” Dante opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, the drinks arrive. He politely thanks the barmaid, pushes a glass toward me, and pays with his card.

“Does he always keep you on such a short leash?”

“Honestly, I feel a bit interrogated.” I chuckle nervously as I start twirling my hair, pretending to read the drink menu even though I haven't actually read a single word.

“I'm sorry...” he laughs awkwardly and takes a sip of his drink. I do the same, drinking the straight whiskey, and at this point, I don't mind that it burns.

“You know... Mark's a good guy.”

“He is... Exceptional.” my eyebrows shoot up again. I can't seem to find the right words, and Dante's intense gaze directed toward the door doesn't help. Mark is leaning against the doorframe, impatiently waiting for us.

With no other choice, I stand up from my seat. Even though I'm sitting closer to the exit, Dante manages to get there first, bumping into my "bodyguard" and offering him an apologetic smile. Mark just shakes his head in disbelief, locking eyes with me, clearly confused by the situation. I quickly make my way down the steps, with Dante comfortably seated in Mark's former spot. I glance around at the guys before deciding to sit back down, this time next to Dante, drink in hand.

image [https://64.media.tumblr.com/9991b6bfb12e31d1bcead79bd4ec214e/e0d62302dd59698b-f8/s540x810/36551a56d3f436a2568ed7127d9b712e46fb9e6e.pnj]