It was after school and I was beginning to walk home when I saw a crowd of people near the street. Only one thought came to mind: Ink.
I was already plotting what I was going to do when I heard Titto running behind me nearly shouting "Robin! I swear! I didn't tell anyone!"
I had stopped to glare at the crowd and Titto stopped beside me breathing heavily. Ignoring him completely, I walked past the crowd and stole a quick glance to see that yes! it was Ink and I was right. Blue Ferrari with Ink, wearing sunglasses for some reason, leaning casually against the passenger's door looking for me. Thinking on my feet I pulled my hood over my head and walked in the other direction. But apparently I didn't think fast enough.
"Robin!" I quickly recognized Ink's voice as loud as it could be (which was as loud as a normal person talking slightly too loud)
"Crap." I could have continued walking. I really should have but instead I chose the stupid idea and turned around. "What?"
I didn't move from that spot. Ink pushed through the crowd of drooling girls and came over to my side.
"Why are there girls crowding my car?"
"Why are you ignoring me?"
"Because I value my life and dying doesn't sound too pleasant today, sorry."
"Haven't you told your friends you've been staying with me?"
I pointed over at the crowd of fan-girls Ink had his back to, "You think those people are my friends!? I don't have friends; I have enemies." And suddenly I was incredibly happy he hadn't seen me standing next to Titto. He might get the wrong idea.
I glared fiercely over at the crowd of girls.
"That's not healthy. Not having friends, that is."
"Oh!" I began, "This coming from you? Please! You haven't left the house in over a month."
"My editors are my friends."
"As if! I haven't seen anyone in the house. And what about a girlfr-" I stopped myself and remembered the first time I'd seen him. Him with my brother. Ink, who I suspected was gay. In fact, I was almost positive. That was something about me: I was never positive about anything. Ever. I would be almost positive, but things could change in an instant.
For a second Ink crossed his arms across his chest, "I don't want to have this conversation in public," he grabbed my hand, "Let's go."
I found myself thinking about how soft and warm Ink's hand was, but then I almost beat the crap out of myself for even having such perverted thoughts. In love with a gay guy; does it get any worse? But I wasn't. Got it?
I rolled my eyes and pretended it wasn't happening; like it was all a bad dream that would end with me standing in AP British Lit. in my underwear with all the other nerds laughing at me.
My reputation was already completely destroyed. Smashed and shattered like the windshield of a drunk truck-driver and I knew there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.
Ink opened the passenger's door for me and reluctantly I climbed in, fearing an even bigger scene. I closed my eyes and threw my head back.
"Screwed. Screwed. I'm so screwed." I thought, "Why? Why did that idiot come and pick me up? He caused enough commotion today. Plus, thanks to him someone knows my secret and soon enough Titto would be blackmailing me probably asking me to rub his feet."
I heard the slam of another door as Ink climbed in and started the car and we sped off, away from the school I didn't want to return to the following year.
We'd been driving for about three minutes when Ink drove passed the turn home.
"Where are we going? You just drove passed the turn."
No response, as normal. Ink wasn't incredibly talkative, but nor was he quiet. He talked whenever he deemed it necessary.
"Ink, please tell me where-"
"You said my name."
"That was the first time you've ever said my name."
"…Tell me where you're taking me."
"Because this could qualify as kidnapping and I do have a cell phone."
"You're no fun. Dinner." Ink's eyes were glued to the relatively busy street in front of him.
"So you don't have to cook."
"I-I don't mind cooking."
"It's good to take a break every now and then," he reached around to the seat behind me and pulled out a plain bag. He shoved it at me, "When we get there you need to run into the bathroom and change into this."
I pulled the item out. It was a dark blue lacey dress. The same shade of his car and his eyes. I looked over at him. Even his tie was dark blue.
"Gee," I thought, "I wonder what his favorite color is."
"What's with the dress?" I inquired.
"The restaurant isn't going to let you in wearing jeans, converse, and a hoodie."
"What kind of restaurant are you taking me to?"
"Liar." But I left it at that.
"Wait!" Ink pulled into a family diner my brother and I went to regularly, "Change here."
I jumped out of the car and ran inside.
"Robin!" It was the owner's wife, Annette. "It's been forever! I heard about Justin being transferred and I guess I thought you had left too," her voice had a thick southern draw to it.
"Ahh," I thought, "That's the story."
"So are you living by yourself?"
"No I've been staying with someone."
"Who?" that was just like Annette, nosy and in everyone's business. She knew everything about anyone who every came to her restaurant more than twice.
"No," I replied sarcastically, "The horse."
"Well what do you need, darling?"
"To change in your restroom," I motioned at the bag I clutched in my left hand.
"It's right around the corner."
The diner was relatively crowded, but I managed to make my way to the restroom which was like one stall: a toilet, a sink, a paper towel dispenser, and a trashcan. Once in the restroom I quickly stripped (not in the sexy way) and slid the dress over me. It had a slant, making it slightly longer on the left side. The bottom looked slightly jagged, like someone went at it with scissors and neatly cut fang-like strips. The straps were thin and oh so appropriate for winter. There were also shoes in the bag; dark blue ones (no surprise). They were high-heeled-open-toed-strappy sandals. Also very nice for the freezing temperatures outside. I shoved my old clothes into the bag and stepped back out into the diner, a stumbling slightly. All of the talk in the restaurant abruptly stopped and all focus was on me. Everyone was looking. I recognized several people from my school. The guys were practically drooling and the girls looked with envy deep in themselves. And that was when the whistling and cheering started. Annette rushed to my side.
"Hot date tonight?" she asked, resting her weight on a half-wall separating a row of tables, her southern accent making it sound almost kidding.
"Not even remotely close," I rolled my eyes and left.