I like your smile
And your fingertips
I like the way that you move your hips
I like the cool way you look at me
Everything about you is bringing me
Misery.

-Buckets of Rain, Bob Dylan

It wasn't even supposed to be this difficult, she thought. All she had to do was pick up her ex-boyfriend from the bus stop and drive him to his parents' new house, since it was so far away public transportation didn't reach it. Granted, it would've been easier if they had still been dating, but she couldn't back out of the plans they had taken great pains to arrange so that he wouldn't be lost in a part of the city he had never visited before. She probably should have told his parents they had broken up over the phone when he was overseas, fighting a war that had no promise of ending, but she didn't want them to worry about him even more. However, fortunately for him, he had gotten injured and was honorably discharged.

She stared at herself in the mirror in the apartment they had shared before he went to the Middle East. He was going to have to come over later to take his things; he could stay with his brother, he had said. Her hair fell past her shoulders in soft waves, and she touched it for a moment, remembering how he used to steal all her scrunchies so that she could never put it up. She smiled briefly at herself when she remembered how he also made fun of how red her hair was. Fire truck red. He used to make her wear green all the time, saying she made every day Christmas Day, but that had been a very long time ago.

She examined her outfit one last time. He was the one who made her a worshipper of T-shirts with cute sayings, so those were all her wardrobe consisted of.

How many times had she wanted to call him back and apologize, but for what? He had been the one who flat-out didn't want to continue their relationship. She bristled a little at how misleading the implication could be. He didn't feel that it was fair to make her wait for him, he had said.

And what about what he said after? Did he only throw in a reference to his pretty commander to hurt her, or did he only tell her that because he wanted the lovely commander?

When she heard he was coming back, she quickly decided that wearing a tee that said "I LOVE YOU" wasn't the best idea.

A tiny selfish part of her still wanted to let him know how she felt, but she wanted something clever enough that could be interpreted as flirty and light-humored. She finally decided on a white shirt saying "I LOVE MOO" that also featured a cow.

She looked out the window and let out a sigh. It had just been sunny, hadn't it? Now it was raining so heavily that the raindrops were bouncing off her windowsill and landing inside. She grabbed an umbrella and then took another as an afterthought. Just in case.

When she spotted him at the bus stop, she almost lost her composure and stopped because she hadn't seen him for a long time. It had been a long time since he had shaved, properly at least, but she had to admit that stubble worked for him.

The months had been kind to him, physically at least. He was more muscular than he had been, and the shirt that used to hide his lanky frame now showcased defined abs and pectorals and biceps and triceps and other whatnots. Being the only person sitting on a bench sheltered by the bus stop, he placed his bags next to himself so they would avoid touching the ground.

"Hi," she said breathlessly. "How are you?"

He grunted and picked up his bags.

"You don't have an umbrella, I assume. Here, I grabbed you an extra one."

When he tried to open it, the umbrella responded by proudly showing off broken hinges and ripped cloth. She winced.

"I'm sorry. I forgot to check if it was the broken one. I've been meaning to throw - um, I'll take the bags. You just take it easy and use the umbrella. Don't worry, the car isn't too far from here."

His eyes became stony, and his face took on a more aggravated expression than before. His frown deepened, and he released an exaggerated sigh. He then spoke his first words.

"You're wearing a white shirt."

"You don't have much luggage, so I can still run with the luggage now before the rain gets any heavier," she explained, decidedly ignoring the way his eyes had raked over her form.

As if on cue, the rain began pouring down even more. Her legs were starting to hurt from the harsh hits the rain pelted her with. She glared at him.

"See, you made me jinx it. Are you going to take the damn umbrella?"

"I hurt my knee, not shattered my leg. I can still carry everything. How do you think I was able to get here?"

"If you're not taking it, I will," she huffed. She hadn't expected their meet-up to be smooth, but she hadn't foreseen that it would be this awful. Granted, she did threaten his masculinity, but surely he hadn't been this snippy before? How had they worked before? She wasn't so sure she was remembering correctly...

Fighting unexpected tears from her eyes, she opened the umbrella, admirably balanced his two suitcases, and bravely marched out from under the shelter of the bus stop. If he was going to be that much of an asshole to the girl he had claimed to love once upon a time, she wasn't going to waste any energy stopping him. She had tried once, to let him go like he had when they fought over the phone, she thought to herself. But unlike her, he actually succeeded. He had fought her to keep her when they were in high school. She hadn't done as good of a job this time, she thought mournfully.

It was really too bad that she didn't have a free hand, she thought. Otherwise, she'd dash away the tears that had materialized after her first bout of emotion before he saw her. At least he hadn't been next to her and had seen when she was crying.

She looked down at the luggage and saw they were the gifts she'd given him before he left. The suitcases weren't that small, but they were pretty close. There wasn't much that could be put in them, so maybe he already had been planning a quick return? She had purposely bought small ones as a joke. Pack little, return faster. Maybe he had listened to her? Way to hope, she admonished herself, when things clearly weren't the same as they once had been.

She felt vibrations in the pavement, but couldn't be sure if he was following or had remained stubbornly at the bus stop because things hadn't gone his way. She sniffed. If he wanted to walk in the rain without the umbrella and get sick because he hadn't been the big enough person to suggest that they share the umbrella, she would tell his mother when she arrived. She allowed herself a small smile at the image -

He ran up to her the best he could, soaking wet. She was so surprised that she forgot to hide her tearstained face and stopped to see what he was going to do next. Then he swung an arm around her, took back the suitcases that she would later find out to have contained things mostly from her, and kissed her hair.

A/N: Hey, guys. Looooooong time no see. This was inspired by all the rain and Tropical Storm and/or Hurricane Irene New York City's been receiving. This was meant to be an idle drabble, since it was done on a mobile device, but when I emailed it to myself, I saw that it was a lot longer. I guess this is the closest I'll get to writing a drabble.

As for the shirt "I LOVE MOO," the female wears, I included that as a tribute to my love of puns. I stumbled upon a store that sold all these shirts with puns on them with my friends. The one who grabbed the "I LOVE MOO" shirt also grabbed one called "Cereal Killer," and the other friend grabbed one that was of a pea saying, "Ha Ha Ha! I'm laughing so hard I'm going to pea!" For me, I just happened to grab one that said "Sole Mates" with a sneaker and a high heel that were making heartfaces at each other to celebrate a newly found admiration for shoes.

I haven't done much writing lately because I was moving and I'm trying to prepare for the college process and whatnot. I did something stupid in June, when school ended; I stopped my habit of writing right before I went to bed. Now I'm totally out of practice and feel very out of my element. This is a piece I basically just typed as I went on my relatively new iPod, Perry (long story short, my sister gave that name and no matter what I did, the name stuck)... a lot different than the way I usually go about writing something. I usually write in a notebook, obsess over it for a while, decide to let it rot, and then get around to posting it. I'm not particularly sure if commanders can be female, so ignore it if it's incorrect.

Here was my summer in a nutshell: sleep, wake up at noon, go to work if I had to, go home, sleep again. I missed my friends terribly but I also revived my love of crochet, so I was making some scarves for my friends (at one point, I think I even tried to talk to them...). I also visited some colleges, fretted about my lack of extracurriculars, and discovered that I will never be able to move from my new house for two reasons: figs and these delicious noodles from a local restaurant. They totally make up for the fact that I live farther away than I used to from the subway.

At any rate, this can be perceived as a not-really-but-kind-of sequel to Cars, for the female does talk about some conflict from high school.

I'm not particularly happy with this, but I felt I should spit something out so I can write more easily for the college essay. I had too many words in my head this summer, but I just couldn't get myself to write. I still can't make myself write right now, but I feel a tad better about some of the words not festering. I have more space in my mind, but I definitely still need to get some more if I want to stay calm during senior year.

I also changed the middle word of my pen name because I've been meaning to for a while. When I first changed it to "second not best," I was thinking of the word "at" but couldn't seem to get that through my brain and then my fingers.

Sorry for the wall of text, and I hope you review!

And before I forget, pleeeeeease don't think I ignore reviews. I just find it kind of weird to reply to someone for giving me a compliment; it's like I'm thanking you for not compliment, but for noticing how awesome I am. A part of it is also that I just forget and am very lazy. I answer some questions if I feel it's necessary, but I don't want to seem like I'm trying to alienate or something.

Hm. How awkward would it be if this story didn't receive any reviews and no one read my spiel?