The first day I ever drove her home, I told her that she could play her music if she wanted to. 

               “No, I’m alright, my music taste is bad” 

What’s that about? Even though I wanted to, I didn’t fight it. I was tired and honestly, I understand her insecurity. I mean, she’s a freshman and what do freshmen really even know? They’re scared and just need someone to look out for them, especially in theatre. I want to look out for her. 

She lives three blocks from my mom’s house. That’s not bad. 13 blocks from my dad’s, though. That’s more bad. But, the weird thing is, I don’t think I actually care. I don’t care about the extra 20 minutes in traffic by myself on my way home from hers every other week. It’s worth it. I like hanging out with her. 

She likes to tell me about the class of ‘25 drama. I don’t know any of the characters in her stories but I know her, and I think she’s a good storyteller. She doesn’t think she’s a good storyteller, though, endlessly apologizing in her narrations. I tell her to stop, but I don’t think she listens.

               “Hey, I’m sorry for not helping much during rehearsal today.” 

I immediately turn my blinker on. I don’t want to let her go until she knows I care about her. 

               “No, I’m alright, my music taste is bad.”

It keeps ringing in my head like a stupid church bell at noon. I want her to be confident in herself. I want her to know that she’s important. And I also want Starbucks. 

“Do you want Starbucks?”

               “What?” 

“What do you want from Starbucks?”

               “Iced tea.”

We got iced tea. The route to our area is a pretty one. We have to go through River Oaks. Iced tea compliments River Oaks at 7pm quite nicely. We made the right choice. I told her about how I carry iced tea in my water bottle everyday. She told me that she thinks that’s weird. 

               “Hey, do you have a tissue?”

Nose bleeds. She gets nosebleeds. I didn’t know that until it happened in my passenger seat. She bled for the entire 20 minute car ride. That’s so much blood. From the nose. How does someone bleed for that long? Truthfully, I was pretty panicked. After all, nobody has ever nose-bled in my car before. So I did the only thing I could think of.

“I WORK ALL NIGHT, I WORK ALL DAY TO PAY THE BILLS I HAVE TO PA-AY”

I started singing ABBA– like an idiot.

               “Ain’t it sad?”

Luckily, she’s a fellow idiot and joined in. And that was our lives for the next 20 minutes– tissue shoved in her nostrils, both of us yelling ABBA songs as loud as we could with her occasional outbursts. 

               “I’M COUGHING UP THE BLOOD NOW!”

It was nice. It felt like a real high school memory.

For a while, I thought we weren’t making any progress. I saw everything too close to actually see anything. Sure, she asked for me to take her the long way a couple times, but that could just be because she was avoiding doing her homework or something. 

               “Hey, can we listen to my music?”

I think that means I’ve won.