I pulled my jacket tighter. Chasity had told me to wait a few days, she'd drive me down to the train and I could avoid a bus and potentially getting robbed. I told her to can it. There wasn't another train to California for a month - that's a long distance for a little cheap train ride - and I liked hours long bus rides anyway. Still, I thought about her while I waited.

I remember the first time I met her:

I had just walked into the cafe, blond hair up in a really nasty knot. I went to pull it out - and couldn't. With my fingers and ponytail knotted on top of my head, i motioned for her to come over discretely.

She wasn't very tall - little with little bones and white eyes, long straight chocolate brown hair that had been in a high ponytail at the time, pastel pink lips that were always glossy. She'd never seen me before. A smile blessed her doll-like features, ballerina frame twirling lighting past distorted figures and she met me in the dark hallway, " what seems to be the problem?"

I felt like I was in Home Depot: what seems to be the problem? Everything you need to be a man, it's in here! Even pink ass carpet! Manly.

" my hair." My eyes brows raised, irises rocketing upwards as if I could see it myself.

Nimble fingers rested on my head, expertly untying the delicate blonde locks. It took at least an hour, and she got chewed for it later, but in that time we started to get along. Like, I-know-your-mom's-middle-name along. And my hair came out unscathed. Bonus.

Naturally, we exchanged numbers and bam! Best friend status. We made a ploy to FaceTime every night for the first two weeks, just to see how everything was fairing. It made sense, and it would make sure I strayed away from homesickness. Not that that was a problem.

Everything was thought out.

A breeze ruffled my hair, made me regret not pulling it up. I had a coat, but it still burrowed into my bones. I was the only one at the stop: I showed up early. The glass room was behind me, along with a map of the bus routes. The steel bench was empty - the street wasn't. Though it was only minimal, a trickle of cars streamed drown the roads. It was insanely quiet for New York.

I sat down cross legged, waited it out, wondered what I was missing back home. I felt a little sad though I couldn't pinpoint why.

In the distance, I could see the bus crawling towards me on all fours, tires large, windows larger. It made my heart both rise and sink - so I guess it stayed in the same place. It pulled up close, large doors folding in to eat me up. I grabbed the rail, stepped on the first step.

" Angel wait!" Nicholas. Dean. Arson.

There was something about that boy and timing.

I turned around, and Nick was there. He was panting, tired, hands on his knees as he tried to regain his composer, " did you run here? From your house?"

He nodded, straightened, " wait."

The bus driver was giving me on of those incredulous looks, like: " really bitch? Can you just get your ass on the bus?" And I replied with a silent: " no sir, arson asked me to wait."

Nick looked crazy, in a good way. His hair was disheveled, brushed away from his face thanks to the breeze, under his eyes hung dark circles, and he was visibly exhausted from his run - he had a car, he could have driven. Then again, New York traffic normally wouldn't have any of that crap. He was playing it safe. I said, " waiting." Though not rudely. I was amazed. He ran here for me. I mean, two legs, timed, ran. Like I was important or something.

" Angel, you can't go." He was still breathing hard - it might take awhile.

" today." The bus driver said, hand massaging the door lever. I waved him off, mostly with a glare.

" why?" I asked Nick, " the bus driver... I've got to go."

He took my hand, " Angel." Then he was huffing a laugh, something light, " I love you."

My heart rose. On its own accord, of course, " excuse me?" This felt like a reversed re-run of last night. One person confused - the other claiming things that couldn't be true, not at the moment, but were anyway.

" I didn't know how to tell you." He replied. God he was winded, and he was getting pretty annoyed with it too because he leaned his head back and sighed, drawing his fingers through his hair.

" well, I guess this works." But I was still pretty shocked, " why?"

" why? Angel," he clicked his tongue at me, " the list is too long anymore. Understand it starts with you."

Charming. I looked up at the bus driver, wanted to look at my heart, then back at Nick. This situation had me locked in place. One foot in my possible future, the other in my possible forever. Lovely, two "f" words - i Could think of one more to explain how I felt: flabbergasted (not fuck, though that would work too).

" you don't have to love me." He said, and he meant it, " I just couldn't live with myself if I never told you."

It became very clear then that I never hated Nick: fucking denial. It sneaks up on you, twists pretty braids of false hatred into your hair and makes you believe it's something completely different than what it really is. I looked at Nick, and he stared right back. His silky grey eyes were rolling with emotion, mostly patience, a little bit of worry, and some excitement. I understood why he was nervous earlier.

I looked up at the bus driver. He arched a brow, tapped his watch, bald head crinkling across the entirety of his scalp, " tick tock little lady, I'm on a schedule."

Back at Nick. Waiting.

" say it again." I said, body growing warmer. there was another bus in a month. There wasn't another Nicholas Dean Arson, " at least one more time."

He smiled, one corner of his mouth hinting higher than the other, " I love you, Carter Grace."

Yeah, it sounded pretty epic when he said my name. I stepped out of the bus frame, set my backs down, and kissed Nick. This kiss had the romance intensity: Rose petals falling from windows, ambient love music, a collective awe and wowed bystanders, and two people who might be in love. I pulled back, " can you say that again? I think you made a mistake."

He chucked, " I love you, Angel."

" there we go. I love you too, Nicholas Dean Arson." I took pride in the fact that it wouldn't be the last time I said his full name to his face.

The bus driver looked between us, " excuse me miss? But are you riding?"

I shook my head, " afraid not. Sorry for wasting your time, sir."

Even after the bus left, we were still standing there. I could hear Chasity " just friends my butt."

I wasn't even sure I loved Nick like he loved me, but it was pretty damn close. I looked at the bus as it went, thinking about what I wanted to do with myself. Nick answered the question, " art."

" hm?" I hummed, leaning against him.

" you should pursue art."

I could do that.