I woke up to Hunters arm around me, and his manager yelling at us to get up. My cheeks flushed as I walked past his manager and out of his bedroom into the little washroom. I brushed my hair, and changed the gauze on my stitches before heading outside.
We had two stops in Red Deer, which pretty much went exactly the same;
“Your album is good.”
“Who’s that chick?”
“She’s just my friend.”
Half way through the second interview, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, and I took it out to see a text from my best friend, Ira.
“Have you found anyone to go to the Summer Ball with, yet? I still can’t find anyone ):”
I totally forgot about the Ball. The Summer Ball took place at a community Stampede party. It’s a semi-formal dance, mostly for teens but all ages are welcome, and without a date it’s never as fun. I would know, I have never had anyone to go with. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a fun dance, but they always have slow dances that make you feel lonely as heck and to top it off they crown a King and Queen of the ball at the end of the night, which basically ends up being more like the ‘cutest couple’ award, making you feel even lonelier.
“Me? Find a date? You’re hilarious -.-,” I texted back to her.
I looked up from my phone and watched Hunter flash one of his gorgeous smiles at something the Radio man said.
Maybe Hunter would take me.
No. Don’t get your hopes up. You’re just friends.
I turned my head away, refusing to look at him any longer.
“Hey, sweetie. How are ya?” Lynnette took a seat beside me.
“I’m good,” I replied.
“You don’t look good,” she said, with a soft smile, “Penny for your thoughts?”
I looked over at her. I’ve never really had someone ask me what’s on my mind. It was kind of nice having someone actually want to know what you’re thinking.
“Well, there’s this Summer Ball thing coming up,” I started, “and I guess I’m just a little bummed ‘cause I have no one to go with, well, I have a group of friends to go with, but no one to go with.”
“Ah, the Summer Ball. Hunter was telling me about that; he saw a poster on some shop window the other day. As for you, though, Is there anyone who have your sights on?” she asked.
I looked at Hunter out of the corner of my eye, watching him laugh and talk.
“Sort of, but I’m pretty sure he see’s me as just a friend,” I said, gazing down at my feet. She turned her head, looking at her only son, then back to me.
“Well, I don’t know who this boy is, but I have a feeling he likes you, too,” she said, with a smile that implied she really did know who ‘this boy’ was. I grinned to myself like an idiot. I didn’t really respond but she seemed to understand the smile, and gave my shoulder a light squeeze as she left, and Hunter finished up his interview.
On the ride back from Red Deer, Hunter seemed a lot happier than on the way there. He stayed out of his room and instead started teaching me the different names of cars passing by
“That’s a ‘94 Mustang Cobra” he said, pointing to a dusty yellow car zooming by.
“Okay, let me try naming one,” I looked around and a dusty, rusty red pick up caught my eye, “That’s an ‘85 Chevy, right?”
“Uhm, no. It’s actually a ‘79,” he said with a little laugh.
“Don’t laugh at me! I’m just learning,” I said, playfully punching him in the arm. We spent the rest of the ride teaching me car names, until we decided to stop for a bite to eat. We pulled up to an old truck-stop-slash-fifties-diner, and we all bounded inside.
The diner was relatively empty when we came in; the only other people in there were two guys sitting at a table in the middle of the checkered floor, and the little old waitress behind the counter. The tables were pretty small, so our group of management, crew, and friends had to split up. Hunter, Jake and I took a seat together next to an old jukebox playing old hits from the 50s and 60s. Jake and Hunter sat on one side of the booth, so I slid into the other side. The little waitress passed ageing menus out to everyone and I looked through the faded writing, deciding on a pink lemonade and some fries. Our drinks arrived first; Hunter was sipping at his root beer, and we made eye contact over the rim of his glass. I felt butterflies in my stomach, yet again. Sometimes I thought I was getting use to him looking at me, but every time he does, I still go crazy. I made a silly face at him, sticking my tongue out and crossing one eye. He started laughing at me, which made him spit out his drink. This brought Jake in and none of could stop laughing. I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt and I fell over sideways, onto the rest of the seat, clenching my torso. I could seriously feel abs forming. The greying waitress returned and placed our orders on the table, smiling over at us. We ate while laughing into our food as Jake pretended to imitate Hunters hilarious spit take.
Everyone was just finishing their meal, when one of my favourite Elvis songs came on.
“The warden threw a party in the county jail,” wailed the Jukebox.
“Ohmygosh, I love this song,” I explained, hoping up from my seat.
“Let’s rock!” I sang along with the music, grabbing Hunters hand and pulling him up. He smiled at me and laced his fingers through mine, holding both my hands as we awkwardly danced in the little truck stop diner. As the song went on, the others joined in and it was a little mini truck stop party.