30 beginnings

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Indie

A FEW DAYS INTO the new year and things feel different. Like this year could actually be better this time, not just another pile of fake resolutions and desolation. I’m making progress with my anatomy notes, and I feel like I can actually push myself to pass the class. And even if I can’t, I have to. There’s too much at stake.

I’m busy jotting down the concepts I still have to go over when my study timer goes off on my phone and I’m forced to pick it up. I find messages from Mae offering me some freshly baked brownies and then fifteen minutes later saying Scarlett finished them with a “sorry” tacked at the end. There are a few texts from Jem, too.

He’s been busy at work and I’ve been busy with studying. We havenʼt been able to see each other in a few days, so weʼve been texting. About anything and everything. Family, our hopes and dreams. Some that might never come true — like me owning the flower shop or him designing his own car. About if I hate my dad for leaving — I don’t, and if he hates his dad for starting a life without his mom — he doesn’t. Not anymore, at least.

I open his texts at the speed of light, mentally cursing myself for not picking up my phone sooner.

#
10:17am

JEM: Out in five?

#
1:32pm

JEM: You good?

#

3:56pm

1 Missed Call from JEM

I clamp down on my jaw and feel like sucker punching myself for leaving him hanging for so long. Biting my lip, I pace my room as I mull over different responses, eventually giving up and just typing out a message and hitting send. 

#
4:45pm

ME: Sorry. Was studying

#
4:48pm

JEM: Take a break. I’m on my way.

On his way? My heart leaps. It takes him like five minutes to get here. Instead of wasting time trying to dissuade him, I figure, what the hell. Itʼs not like I didnʼt want to go with him, and heʼs right, I could use a break. I mean, I did study for almost eight hours straight.

I stumble out of my chair, my legs are a little numb from sitting in my chair for so long. My fuzzy slippers sliding across the wooden floors as I race to my closet. I dig out a cream sweater and light wash denim jeans from the depths of my wardrobe. I’m halfway through shoving on a pair of Docs when there’s a knock at the door.

“I’m coming!”

I keep pushing my left foot into my shoe, while hopping across the house to get the door. Stopping halfway, I finally get my foot in and attempt to tie the lace.

Bending over, I tie my lace in the sloppiest and quickest manner, resulting in it looking like a sad, small bow. I could leave it untied and run to answer the door, but previous experiences proved that wrong. The scar on my arm can prove it. With my tied shoes, I rush to the door.

Before I rest my hand on the doorknob, I suck in a deep breath, pulling at my sweater and tucking the wild strands of hair behind my ears. Finally, I open the door and the sight of fresh flowers greets me. Daisies. I drag my gaze up to a slightly flushed Jem, flakes of snow lightly dusting his black jacket.

“Hey,” he says, and a puff of white air expels from his mouth.

Itʼs the first time Iʼve seen him since New Yearʼs Eve, when he pulled me into that penthouse room and took me to places I thought only ever existed in books and movies. It 's easier to get over things through text. Now, seeing him in front of me makes me want to curl up in a ball and let my heated cheeks burn me to death. Somehow, I manage to meet his silver gaze. “Hey.”

A cold breeze wafts in, hitting my legs and I resist the urge to outwardly shiver. Manoeuvring behind the door, I tilt my head, gesturing to get him to come in. 

Jem ducks his head, walking in and turning around to grasp the door from me to close it behind him. He faces me again, handing the flowers to me. 

My fingers brush against his for a split second. I pause. They’re warm. Unusually warm for someone who has been in the cold for that long.

His grey eyes search mine, watching my gaze resting on the daisies in my grasp. I clutch the flowers close to my chest. New beginnings. That’s what daisies mean. My heart warms. “Thank you.”

Walking past him, I leave the flowers on the table and find a vase, filling it up with water. Finally, I place them in the vase and smile looking at them again. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he says, opening the door and stepping outside, “Can’t have you sitting in here studying all day. C’mon.”

 “Okay…” I say, lifting my brow at his vague response, “Coming.”

My shoes hit the tiles outside, as I lock my door and follow Jem who’s walking towards a red pick-up truck parked at the stoop to the apartment. Glancing sideways at him, I lift a brow. “Is this yours?”

Light floods his eyes as he offers me a half shrug. “It’s mine for the day.”

A perplexed smile touches my lips, but I don’t say anything, wordlessly getting into the truck just as he opens my door for me. Jem closes the door, walking around to his side before jumping in and starting the truck. With one hand on the gear and the other on the wheel, he reversed out the parking in front of my apartment.

I stare at him curiously until he catches me, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Hm?” 

“You’re seriously not going to tell me where we’re going?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. But I can tell you that it’s not too far. Here—” He leans down to pick up his phone from the center console, his eyes still on the road as he passes the aux cord. “You can choose the music.”

I sigh, accepting the olive branch. I put one of his playlists on shuffle and Three Strikes by Khalid fills the air as I scroll through the lists he has. As I’m scrolling, I notice something. For a second I think I might be hallucinating. I scroll up slowly to double check. But there it is. Plain and clear. 

A playlist titled Indie.

Before I can open it, Jem draws to a stop amongst a bunch of cars at a clearing. I glance around puzzled and it’s only then that I notice the giant screen ahead of us. I look at him wide-eyed. “We’re at a drive in?”

Jem switches the ignition off, turning the key and faces me with a casual wink. “Yep. Two tickets for Kill Bill, baby.”

No way,” I look around again, gazing at the view in front of me, “They never show action movies at these. And theyʼre always fully booked.”

I had always wanted to go watch a movie at a drive-in, but something was always the problem: tickets were sold out, Mae was busy, or I was busy. The one time we managed to find a day that we could work with. The weather decided to rain on our parade and it got postponed. To a day, where we again, couldn’t make it. 

Jem shrugs. “We got lucky, then, I guess.” He nods to the back of the truck. “Let’s go.”

I can’t believe I didn’t notice the blankets and pillows stacked in the back when he picked me up. Or the giant picnic basket that was upfront next to him the entire ride here. Jem holds out his hand, after he’s in the back, helping me jump up. 

Once I’ve safely landed, he starts to unravel the blankets, laying them out, while I align the pillows. Finally,  Jem takes out all the snacks he bought, spraying them across the blankets. He slowly sits down, tapping the spot next to him as he beckons me to sit.

Once I’m there, he throws the biggest blanket over me, noticing how I was rubbing my hands together.

“Hot chocolate?” Jem looks at me before lifting his chin at the stalls on the other side, where people were buying food before the movie began.

I crinkle my nose, “You donʼt think they have ice cream, do you?”

An incredulous look washes over his face. “It’s like thirty degrees out here, Indigo,” he gazes the warm bundle I wrapped myself in after he threw the blanket on me.

I shrug. “Yeah, but ice cream tastes better in the cold.”

“Okay… ” Jem concedes, his eyes narrowing as he stares at the bistro behind me. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, Jem, I donʼt actually need—” 

But my protest is thrown to caution. Heʼs long gone, his back disappearing amongst the cars as he walks off. 

After pilfering through all the snacks he brought with him, and finding the biggest packet of marshmallows, I settle on the popcorn just as the big screen in front of me started moving. The movie is starting, and Jemʼs still not here. 

On screen, Uma Thurman captures my attention, but I canʼt help but worry about him. 

He’s been gone for about fifteen minutes now. I’m about to call him, when I see a tall figure nearing me with an ice cream cone, slightly out of breath.

“Whyʼd you do that?” I huff, holding onto the cone he passes me. “Was the queue long?”

Jem hops back up onto the back, settling himself back into his seat. “You could say that.”

Iʼm halfway through my ice cream when I realize. 

“Jem,” I say, “This is from Macyʼs.”

He passes me a look, like he doesnʼt know whether to be impressed or concerned that I know the exact ice cream store just by taste. 

Eventually, he nods. “Yeah. How is it?”

How is it? Jem, Macyʼs is more than half a mile away.” Thatʼs around a twenty minute jog, excluding the amount of time it takes to buy the actual cones. 

Jem just shrugs. “So?” 

“You're crazy.” I swallow the last of my cone as I jump on him, grabbing his face between my hands and pressing my lips to his. 

“Indie—” And I only grin for a second before I swallow his laugh. His shock is quickly replaced by conformity as his body melts into mine, his hands coming up from my ass to the base of my spine. 

When I slip my tongue into his mouth, a low moan travels up his throat into my mouth, and he separates from the kiss for a second. “Fuck. You taste so sweet.”

I lean in and he backs away, something like pain in his eyes. “Youʼre missing the movie, baby.”

I roll my eyes as “Iʼve watched this movie a million times, Valentine. Itʼs the first time someone ran a mile in fifteen minutes just because I asked for ice cream. Now are you gonna kiss me or no?”

Jem curses under his breath before pulling me into his lap and joining his mouth to mine. God, I love the way he kisses me. Like heʼs drowning and Iʼm the only thing keeping him afloat. Itʼs how I feel about him, too. His hands burn a trail up my skin as he trails them up my sweater, and I feel him harden under me. 

Suddenly, a car pulls up right next to us, and we fly apart as the light from their headlights flashes blindingly at us.

Itʼs a couple, and their windows are rolled down as they whisper-shout at each other. 

“Jesus, Jimmy, weʼre late!” a lady with
a thick New York accent chastises.

“Well maybe if you didnʼt spend five hours deciding between fucking Fuschia and Rose lipstick, we wouldnʼt be late, Barbara!” 

Jem and I exchange a look, breathing hard as we separate from each other, fighting grins.  

After that, we silently watch the movie. Thereʼs the faint sound of Jimmy and Barbara arguing in the background, but it kind of adds to the experience. 

Sometimes, Jem looks at me for a few moments, his gaze lowering to my lips before a deep frown mars his face and he brings his hand up, smothering me with the blanket before turning back to the screen. 

Soon, the credit roll and car lights are on, filling the place with brightness.

“I love the end of the movie,” I say, looking at him. “She finally—” 

He grins. “Killed Bill? No shit, Gallagher.” 

I bite back a smile as I shove his arm. “Shut up.”

Jem just laughs and I ignore him, shaking my head as I start to place all the food wrappers back into the basket. Rising to my knees, I try to gather all the pillows to pack them away, but a warm hand stops me.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it when I get home,” Jem reassures me.

He jumps down off the truck, holding out a hand to me. I clasp onto it, holding it tightly before coming down after him. Jem leads me towards the door, getting me in and following after me. 

With a soft purr, the engine turns on, and Jem starts driving. The passing street lights illuminate his face in the darkness, and even though I know itʼs unlikely that he'll say yes, I find myself asking anyway.

“There’s that NYU party this weekend. Are you going?” 

His expression falters slightly. “I canʼt make this weekend.”

I nod. “Yeah, I know you donʼt do parties.”

“No, itʼs—” Jem pauses for a moment before turning to face me. “Iʼm leaving this weekend.” 

My heart jumps. “You’re leaving? Where?”

“I’m just visiting my family,” he exhales.

I sit back silently in my seat, ordering my heart to calm down. It's just a weekend. Guess Iʼm way too used to people leaving suddenly. 

Watching the houses go by as we near my street. Jem slows down just outside the stoop to my apartment before he turns completely to look at me.

“Do you want to come with me?” he asks tentatively, his grey eyes shining in earnest. 

“Jem…” I pass him an incredulous look. “There’s no way your family would appreciate me ruining all their plans.”

“Are you kidding?” he says, “My sisters will love you.”

I play with the ring on my finger, mulling over the idea. “I’ll think about it.”

“Seriously Indie,” he says, his gaze deep, “I want you to be there.”

And I know he means it. That he actually wants me to be there. I like how he wants me to know his family. I like everything about him, actually. 

And I think it might be more than just “like”. 


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