Dead To You

44. as it was

The parking lot air was cooler than it had been when we first walked into the restaurant, fragranced with the scent of the dryer sheets tumbling around in the laundromat next door as the pale crescent moon hung low over the traffic lights blinking against down at the pavement of the unoccupied interaction. 

I held a cardboard takeout container in one hand, the rest of my baked potato chips with the remaining half of my apple pie inside—along with Noel's dill pickle, which he had offered me while packaging his own leftovers, curling his lip in disgust after I guessed that he didn't like pickles—and I was only mildly concerned about the vinegary dill taste contaminating my pie when Noel turned to me on the sidewalk with his hand held out to me. 

I stared down bewilderedly at his outstretched palm, tinged with the crimson light from the storefront sign over his shoulder, and it wasn't until he said, "I think I can drive now" that I remembered that I still had his keys on me, jingling around at the bottom of my purse. I juggled my takeout container in one hand while I tried to open my purse with one hand, trapping it against my side with my wrist, certain the pickle was definitely touching the pie now, until he seized my leftovers from me and stacked it on top of his, and I fumbled with zipper even with my hand now freed because there...something, about how he just wordlessly took it from me. 

I was probably just cold, I surmised, willing to be warmed by anything, I thought, as I rifled through old receipts and breath mints with questionable expiration dates until I found his keys underneath my cardholder. It also probably caused the spark that traveled up from the fingertips accidentally brushing against the lines in his palm when I handed him back the keys and took back my food. 

Then, I watched as he stepped down from the sidewalk and walked across the vacant handicapped spot to his car parked underneath one of the streetlights, and realized that he never actually offered to drive me home, not that he even knew where it was, but it would've been calamitous if I just got into the passenger seat and assumed that he would until it became brutally apparent that he had no such intentions when he stared all wide-eyed at the girl he just confessed he never saw as a friend climb uninvited into his car. It wasn't like he wanted to come here in the first place.

I was chewing on the inside of my cheek when Noel craned his neck to look over his shoulder after he had walked a few steps into the parking lot, turning back around on his heel after noticing me still standing on the sidewalk with my crossbody still awkwardly slung over my midsection and the takeout container limp in my hand. 

"What?" he asked, like he was genuinely confused, and maybe he was, but I didn't know what else I was supposed to do other than to just stand there and let this night end with a nod of my head to the street to the right, the road that led me home and him further away from his. It just made more sense this way.

"I only live a few blocks away, so I can just walk from here. But, um, thanks for the pickle—and the sandwich. I'll pay you back at school tomorrow, or whenever you're at school, doesn't have to be tomorrow. So, yeah."

"Oh. Okay," he replied after a slight pause, his gaze shadowed underneath the dimmed golden glow from the streetlight beaming over his profile as it lingered on me until he lowered his head to stare down at the keys in his hand, pressing his thumbnail into the grooves of the teeth while I took a step backward. 

I lifted my hand in a maladroit wave with a smile that felt like the corners of my lips were disappearing into my cheeks as my heels clicked against the concrete, but I hadn't turned away from him yet since it honestly seemed kind of rude to just walk off before he told me goodbye, even though almost none of our other exchanges ended with that pleasantry, maybe my hesitation was all for nothing. Maybe it was all in my head that this felt different than all those other times.