I'm impatient at the best of times and spontaneous at the worst of times. Because I'm never spontaneous in a good way, no, that would be like 'hey, let's grab some burritos,' or 'let's go camping.' No, my spontaneity is hardwired to the stupid/insane portion of my brain, the part that says '2 am? Nah, that's not a weird time to go out at night alone and ride a bike 30 miles in a bikini to the lake for a solitary dip.' At least a little sense kicked in- enough that I brought a backpack with a change of clothes, snacks, water, and blanket. No towel, though, that would be too prudent for my brain to handle.
I pulled a blue sporty bikini out of a drawer and put it on, finishing up the outfit with a pair of socks and running shoes, tied specially so as not to get tangled in my bike. I wasn't completely stupid, I knew a town bike wasn't the best choice, and I was fully aware I would be too tired to ride back immediately, hence the blanket, so I did plan on sleeping there. I wrote a note so Everett wouldn't worry and borrowed his mountain bike, lowering the seat as far as it would go just to graze the concrete with my toes.
Whenever I was about to do something I knew, but refused to acknowledge, was probably stupid, I always got this big rush of excitement, fueling me on past arguments with sane people, when they were alert to my shenanigans, and any trepidation I might be feeling. The problem was, the feeling was always much shorter lived than I needed it to be, so I often found myself regretful halfway through one of my plans. So I supplemented with music, loud enough to distract me past my doubts in hopes that by the time I decided it would be best to turn around, it would be too late, past the halfway point.
To anyone with half a brain, it might appear that I'm my own worst enemy (and maybe that's true,) but to anyone with a whole brain, I would hope I appeared to be a free spirit, maybe? Just someone bored too easily who overcompensated her lack of interest by doing crazy shit instead of getting out a coloring book or learning to walk on her hands (which may not be the best example, seeing as I have weak wrists.) Anyway.
The trip took forever, and I definitely felt some doubts, but I pushed on! I made it to the lake, and for what? For some idiot to come driving up, jump out, and yell at me.
At this point, having succeeded (nearly) in my endeavor, I was not in the mood to be chastised, especially by someone who couldn't be bothered to ever do anything fun ever and instead insisted on existing as a lone wolf who had captured a bird he wanted nothing to do with. We had been roommates for three months now, and for three months I had done everything he asked. We built everything the animals needed, tested them constantly, and then we have one problem with the plan and poof, guess we're not doing it.
Because who was gonna milk the damn goat? Well, let's just bring her with us. Who's going to collect the eggs so they don't go bad? Then let's bring the chickens. Well, we can't just bring everything, how would we even do that? Hitch a trailer to an RV. What if the animals don't travel well? Then you stay, and I'll go! Don't go, I don't think it's safe for us to be separated.
Kill me now.
I knew he loved his little makeshift farm and yes, we had put a lot of work into it, but this was the very last bit of good weather for the year and I'd be damned if I didnt get to the lake once.
After ten minutes of demanding I get in the car, one attempt to physically put me in the car (which resulted in a lot of angry screaming and flailing of limbs,) he switched to pleading, which I countered with a plea that he stay and spend the day here with me, which he countered with- a sigh!
I smelled defeat and took a few steps closer, careful to stay just out of reach in case he attempted to grab me again.
"Look, I rode all the way here- that's the furthest I've ever gotten on a bike and I'm proud of that! I'm not just going back right away. Sunrise is almost here- stay and watch it with me. Then we can spend a few hours on the boat dock, play in the water...we deserve a break, Ev, I don't think anything bad will happen just because we took a day off."
He looked at the bits of horizon he could see through the trees. "Come on," he said, heading south from the car. "There's a spot with a better view up here."
I followed him up a trail that ended at a little clearing on a hilltop with a concrete picnic table. I pulled the blanket out of my pack and tossed it over a thick patch of damp grass where we had the best view of the sun rising. I laid down on my stomach, propping my chin up with my hands and kicked my shoes off as he sat beside me.
"I haven't been here in a long time," he said quietly. "I forgot what I was missing."
I sat up and wrapped my arms around him, giving him a peck on the cheek. "I'm glad you buckled and decided to stay, old man. You belong more out here than in a ghost town."
He turned to smile at me, his face inches from mine. I loosened my arms, attempting to end the embrace before it got awkward, but he (apparently) had other ideas. His warm arms wrapped around me and pulled me closer, his nose brushed mine, and he kissed me.
That idiot kissed me!
"Well it took you damn long enough," I muttered when he pulled away.
"I don't want to give you any reason to leave, and if something more than friendship didn't work out, I was afraid you'd go away," he explained.
"No, I meant where was this when we were hanging out at the bar after that great concert five years ago? Or any of the other opportunities?"
He just glared at me. "You think I don't regret not doing this sooner, especially when I thought you were gone forever?"
"Not as much as I regret you not doing it," I said, standing. He got up to follow me and I could almost feel his scowl burning a hole in my bare back. "Did you bring a suit?"
"No, I'll just stay on the dock."
"You could just go naked," I suggested casually. "I promise not to look. Water's probably cold enough there wouldn't be much to see anyway."
"Genevieve!" he snapped.
I just laughed and ran, my backpack swinging in my hand as I tried not to trip down the path.