One more time (2)

PREVIOUSLY: I arrived at the god forsaken airport, and told you my background story. I was enjoying myself, being the centre of attention, when i noticed the oh so, delicious Ian trying to recall me...

FRIDAY, AUGUST 28: Right, so before I begin to explain Ian and my complicated background story, let me describe to you exactly how much I have changed since leaving this god forsaken town. As I've mentioned, if you've seen one person here, you've seen them all. Everyone is a carbon copy of the next person. Let's talk about the guys. Every single one of them has medium-short hair. Usually a blond or light brown. Everyone plays sports, on the weekends they get 'wild' and 'blow-off' some steam by taking their parents cars to one of the convenience stores in town. So yea, the guys here, not very interesting at all...

But it's the girls that completely blow me off my feet. Nothing has changed at all, from the way they dress, to that fake way they toss their hair over their shoulders. For instance, all the girls have long, immaculately straight strawberry-blond hair. They go to the saloon every weekend, to make sure their highlights look presentable. They get manicures and pedicures done every other weekend. Everyone wears the exact same styles, only in different colours...well, you get the picture. And I'm ashamed to say, I used to be one of those carbon copies, and I almost liked it.

But, I'm proud to say, that today, I look nothing like these fake girls, I look exactly how I want, and I can see the disapproval in the faces of the elders and an almost admiration in the eye's of the other misfits. I've got long, dark locks, with alternate streaks of bright blue, red and purple. I don't wear those horrendous mini-skirts with the collared t-shirts and tiny handbags. I wear black skinny jeans, a very complicated top, knee-high boots and a very large handbag, with a pair of ray-bans. I stick out like a sore thumb, but I like it, I like it a lot!

Anyway, Ian is straining his eyes, trying to place me, the misfit, probably giving me a mental makeover, substituting my dark locks, for pencil straight strawberry-blond hair. Then suddenly realisation hits him. It's almost comical, I could almost hear the cogs in his head working meticulously.

'Era?'

'Hiya, Ian. Took you long enough. Like my new look? Are you going to offer me a ride in your hot-shot car or just stand there gawking all day?'

'Oh, err...your new look? I mean yea. It's nice, it suits you. And yea, climb on in, where are you heading?'

'Oh, come on Ian! You can't possibly have forgotten where I live, can you? Or did you not care for me at all?'

Ian looks adorably flustered. It's insanely fun to be the one who flusters THE Ian Baxter. I remember how he was my best friend in high school, and how I used to have the biggest crush on him, and how he didn't know, and how much it hurt me every time he hooked-up with one pretentious snob after another. On the day I was leaving this hell hole, Ian had sent me to the airport. He had given up trying to talk me out of my plan to run, and I had given up trying to convince him to run away with me. So as he gives me a hug goodbye, I breathe into his ear, and tell him everything. I tell him how much I loved him, and how long I loved him. I pulled back, knowing, just knowing he would say that he felt the same way, and I would have stayed, I would have done anything for Ian. But when i pulled back, all his face betrays is shock, his mouth hanging open, and he doesn't say the words i expect him to say. Instead, he goes to the boot of his car and unpacks my bags, and I try not to cry in front of him.

'Well, you better get going, wouldn't want to miss your flight, now would you?'

And he gets back into the car and hits the gas pedal. That's all i got after being his best friend for 10 years and pining for him for 4. The last thing I hear from the guy I love, my best friend in the whole wide world, and not so much as a 'Bye'.

'You grew up nice, Era.'

I nearly forgot that I was in the car with him, I was so caught up with my flashback.

'Oh, right. Well, you look the same, Ian. The same Ian who sped off and left me in this exact same spot 3 years ago.'

There's a strained silence in the car, and I know the both of us are remembering the times we shared, and how we hadn't made any contact in 3 years...

TO BE CONTINUED
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