Author: nanakathleen PM
What is it with Solomon and lesbians, I'll never know. 10 years of friendship, and not one single straight relationship on his part. All I know since we met is that he liked me and I liked girls. Not much has changed since then.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Drama - Words: 1,687 - Reviews: 2 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 04-23-11 - Published: 03-17-11 - id: 2899774
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: I must warn you that I have a World History AP Test on May 12, so that's why I haven't updated, because I'm honestly in over my head. I also have a trip to Brazil for the month of June, so don't count on any truly regular updates until July, but regardless I will be continuing this story- I have an idea of what I want, and I know how the story ends. It'll be up to you guys to figure it out, haha. Reviews on the character personalities would be great, and on the events, their actions, who should be with whom, etc.
Is love really a choice? I've tried to choose before.
I wish it worked. I could make my family happy. I could make my friends happy. I could make Solomon happy. But if this were the case, couldn't he just as well choose someone else?
And that's how the world works. Even if you could choose, they can always choose someone else. In the end, if you really love them, you'll let them be with whoever they desire, hope that when things fall together, they'll love you too.
Because isn't that what true love is?
What it is with Solomon and lesbians, I'll never know. 10 years of friendship, and not one single straight relationship on his part.
Solomon has been my best friend as long as I can remember. I remember the playground and mudpies. I remember the mutilation of Barbies and drawing dinosaurs all over the walls.
I remember my first crush. I remember his.
He liked me. I liked a girl. Not much has changed since then.
"So… where exactly are we headed, anyway?" I asked Solomon. I was nearly asleep from the car ride- anything longer than 10 minutes would put me straight to sleep. We were headed to Rick's birthday party dinner thing- it just didn't occur to me that I didn't know where.
"Some place called Normandy's?" Normandy's? The hell is that? "It's a burger joint." Solomon glanced at me, comprehending the pure confusion on my face.
"Oh. Right. Of course. Rick and his burgers." It should've been quite obvious. Nothing gets between Rick and his burgers.
I became more aware of my surroundings as I attempted to figure out exactly where we were. We were pretty much out of our normal comfort zone. Though that doesn't say much- Solomon and I spend most of our time in his den playing Portal or Left 4 Dead.
Rick kind of changed that for us. He was new to our school, Paddington High- his parents decided there were going to move two streets over to a nicer house, and didn't realize that he completely changed school zones. Regardless of the situation, the county wasn't willing to let him stay at Rockwell High, his old school- and now here we are. He's a refreshing addition to the group, now that there is one. It's always been just Solomon and I, really. Since kindergarten.
"Oh, here it is." Solomon slowed and turned into the plaza, and we found a parking spot right in front of the neon sign half lighted proclaiming "Normandy's" on an arrow. I glanced through the front window of the car and into the restaurant. I could hear yelling and cheering, and streamers decorated the place. The place seemed to be a private thing for Rick, and it was ridden with Rockwell kids.
"Half of Rockwell seems to be here, huh? Better get prepared for any fights, Gwen." Solomon stretched his arms with his hands crossed out in front of him, holding in place until he heard the bones crack. "I gotta protect my lady from thugs and whatnot." He smirked at me. In return, I smack him.
"Ow!" He rubbed his arm. "God, why do your punches hurt so much?"
"Just, gross." He stuck out his tongue at me, shying away so I wouldn't hit him again. "Besides, I can take care of myself. Good thing, too. I don't think a skinny twerp like you in a V-Neck and skinny jeans is gonna intimidate Rockwell kids." I winked, and stepped out of the car, in time to hear him scoff in offense.
Realistically, he had to know I was right. Rockwell kids were tough, scary and usually with an extensive criminal record. Rick was large and intimidating himself- he just happened to be a good guy despite his outward appearance. Solomon and I walked inside. There were about 15 or 20 people in there, none of whom we knew. Rick of course was easy to spot- in the middle, always the center of attention. He has this charming personality, and could talk to anyone with the same amiability he had with his friends and family.
I walked in and took in his appearance. Leather jacket, ripped up jeans, always a cigarette in hand- he blended right in with the Rockwell kids surrounding him. I grinned. This must feel like home to Ricky. He was in the middle of telling a story, not noticing the jingle of the bell from when we opened the door.
"And you would not believe the look on his face – priceless!" Ricky coughed a little, having just taken a hit and laughed simultaneously.
"Telling the Wesley Breckinridge story again?" I cocked an eye at him, catching his attention. "That wasn't very nice of you." He grinned, and shrugged his shoulders. I shook my head. "Whatever, man. Happy birthday."
"Thanks, G- Oh hey, man, what's up?" He acknowledged Solomon, who nodded his head and waved in acknowledgement. He wasn't good with big crowds, let alone a crowd of strangers.
"Oh, I'm being rude. G, Solomon, these are the guys- Mark, Lorenzo, Tony, Vinnie…" He went off naming all his friends, each nodding or waving their hands at us in turn. Dear God, they're all Hispanic. And I thought that was a Rockwell stereotype. "And this chica here is Gretchen Ortega. She's the old hag of the group."
I glanced up, and over the booth, and straight into the likes of Gretchen Ortega. She was walking over carrying a tray of milkshakes and burgers for the table.
"Ey. I'm a year older than you. That does not make me an old hag, you jerk." She put the tray down on another table and slapped Ricky over the head. "No burger for you. Vinnie, take it." She tossed Ricky's burger to the largest guy in the booth, who brightened up and stuffed half the burger in his mouth. I'd be disgusted but by judging his size, his mouth probably can fit half the burger as one bite.
Ricky looked confused, Gretchen passing out the rest of the dishes among the guys.
"But… I didn't order anything."
"Technicalities." She waved him off and turned to Solomon and I. Hands on her hips, she wore all black, a red apron over her attire. She was smaller than me, and couldn't have been more than five feet four inches. She blew her strawberry blonde hair from her eyes. A clear, blue-green set of eyes, the most exquisite pair I had ever seen. And her lips. Her lips were-
"So, what can I do you for?"
"Huh?" I snapped out of my reverie, realizing what I had been doing. She's nothing but a girl. I just had to remember that. Though girls were pretty, I liked guys. I could choose a guy, easily. And speaking of them… my eyes darted to Solomon. I really hoped he didn't see what just occurred.
"Uhm, would you like anything?" She smiled at me, amused. God, I hoped she didn't see it either. The only thing worse than thinking a girl was pretty was the girl figuring it out like she could see right through you. And nine times out of ten, they don't think you're as pretty as the next pair of bulking biceps about to cross her way.
"Yes, yes I would." I found myself looking at her again. Solomon glanced at me, and from my peripheral vision, I could see the anxiety begin to show on his face, but I wasn't caring too much at the moment.
"Uh, Gwen, you haven't even looked at a menu yet?" He said, trying to catch my attention. Right. I don't know what to order.
"Oh, right. Can you get us menus, I guess?" I scratched the back of my neck.
"Sure." Gretchen Ortega walked around the booth, grabbed a few menus, and returned. She handed one to me, and I opened it. I skimmed the list. Angus, cheeseburger, double decker. Soups, salads, chicken fingers…
I glanced at Solomon. He was flipping through the menu as well, and his eyes lifted up from the page and met up with mine. He half smiled at me, and I leaned over and grabbed his wrist. He in turn snaked his fingers into mine, and I could feel the tenseness ease out of his grip. As long as Solomon was okay.
"Gretchen! Order's up!"
"Oh, that's for me!" Ricky exclaimed, still immersed in conversation with his old friends.
"Coming!" She yelled back to the cook. "Have you decided yet?" She asked, looking at me. My throat dried up.
"Uhm, no. I need some time to decide." I chuckled to myself. She raised her eyebrows at me.
"That's okay. We all do." She smiled, and walked away into kitchen. I shifted closer to Solomon. He put his arm around me, and I smiled at him. Miniscule as his body was compared to the guys we were sitting with, Solomon never failed to make me feel safe. To make me feel protected.
A/N: This was a recent inspiration of mine, inspired by a few friends. I want to see what you guys think. So please review?