Remember when I said I like to pretend my life is like a fantasy novel? I could have me and my wand and with one wave, I could make my own luck. I may be wrong. I never took into consideration other forces. In every book, there is always something fighting the heroin. In my story, it's me fighting myself. I go back and forth between wishing and working for what I want and what I need. I'm beginning to realize that you can't make your own luck. It makes itself.

***

It's a typical thing for Clay to do. In middle school, I never would have doubted that he would cheat on whatever girl he had clinging to him, and trust me, there were many. But now? After he seems to have changed so much? Would he really?

I mean, for all I know Alexis is his cousin. Or even his sister, I didn't know much about his family because he never talked about them and neither did anyone else. And when he said "my girl" in his Instagram caption, maybe he was talking about his mom. Or Alexis the sister, or Alexis the cousin.

My head is spinning. I take a swig of my coffee and set it down. If I drink too much of it, I will be bouncing off the walls.

I dart towards the bathroom and pull the doorknob. Lanie lets out a yelp from inside the shower.

"Lanie!" I cry out.

"Jordan, what are you doing in here?" She exclaims. The hot water has made the air stuffy and warm in the small bathroom.

"I have a problem. I think Clay is going to cheat on his girlfriend... with me."

She doesn't say anything. Instead, she shuts off the shower, grabs her robe that is draped over the shower curtain and pushes back the curtain with force. She looks at me plainly.

"You're kidding, right?"

"No!" I exclaim. "He's coming to get me to help him work on his paper again. But there's this Alexis girl that calls him, and then there's evidence on Instagram that suggests he does indeed have a... woman." I have to suck in a breath after all that.

Lanie can't help but laugh. "Wow, you're one heck of a detective, aren't you?"

She passes me as she enters the room. I chase after her while I pull up the evidence on my phone again, careful not to tap anything I don't want to. I show it to her and explain that there is a huge possibility of there being... another woman. And that woman could possibly be me.

Lanie sighs. "This is from over a month ago. He could have been talking about any girl, Jordan. Plus, I've known him for a couple of years and I have a gut feeling that he would never do something like that."

I take a deep breath, the ugly feeling in the pit of my stomach slowly melting away.

"Are you sure? He was talking to someone when he called me. Plus, who could Alexis be?"

"You need to calm down. I'm not buying you coffee anymore."

I shrug. "Yeah, I should've told you that."

She narrows her eyes at me. "Anyway. Alexis could be a friend, a family member, or literally anyone. You can't just assume."

I let my shoulders relax. "Yeah, you're right." I toss my phone onto my bed and sift through my top drawer of jeans in my dresser. "I don't even like him like that anyway."

That gets a good laugh from Lanie. "You're kidding, right? Of course you do! Why else would you be freaking out like this?"

I shake my head stubbornly. "Because I don't want to be the other woman."

Lanie crosses her arms over her chest. "You're impossible."

"I get that a lot. It's more of a compliment at this point."

Lanie sighs and heads over to the bathroom to finish getting ready for the day. I quickly find a pair of dark skinny jeans and slip on some sandals, along with a soft gray shirt that sits comfortably around my shape. My hair is a complete mess. I hurriedly pull it around my face and brush it out, letting the blonde mess settle around my shoulders. It's actually decently straight, so I don't need to straighten it.

I paint on a little makeup, leaving it simple with some mascara and other simple products.

I get a text on my phone and I quickly look at it. It's from Clay, and he's outside now. I feel my heart flutter a little. I'm not sure what all I'll need, so I grab my purse that's big enough to fit my small laptop. Its charger, and my wallet in.

I yell a quick goodbye to Lanie and rush out the door. Outside, the air brushes against my face, warm and comfortable. I look around for Clay's red truck and see it sitting in the same spot where he usually drops me off.

Pushing all thoughts except his paper from my mind, I walk over to the truck and climb inside.

"Good Morning," he greets me. I return a warm smile as I buckle my seatbelt.

"Hey," I reply. "Where are we going?"

I see a hint of a grin on his face. "I thought that maybe we could use some inspiration."

I raise an eyebrow. "Really? Like what?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

I let a few quiet moments pass between us, country music quietly playing on the radio. It's been a while since this music has played around me, considering none of my friends in California were into it.

"How far did you get on your paper?"

"I have two pages. Apparently, I'm a horrible writer. I wrote some more the other night and Pete read it. You should've seen the look on his face." He lets out a chuckle.

A laugh bubbles up from my throat. "Right. You just need to apply yourself."

He looks over at me, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. It is one that I can't help but to return.

"So, are you going to tell me where we're going?"

He shakes his head. "No. Your amount of patience definitely has not changed."

I let out a disbelieving grunt. "Like you even remember those days."

"Of course I do. The way you were always ready to help me out with my milk smuggles, and we can't forget about the great getaway of Sophomore year." He lets out a laugh at that.

I raise an eyebrow. "Wait, what?"

"You don't remember? A bunch of us decided that at lunchtime we would leave the school. We needed someone to be a distraction and you volunteered."

I instantly remember what he's talking about. "Oh, you mean the time I started a fight with some girl so you guys could sneak out the front doors. I do seem to remember that. Jonah chewed me out right in the office for that after someone went and told him about it."

"I'm sure that's not even the worst of the trouble you got into for that." Clay still smiles softly at me. "We were young and dumb. Shouldn't have let you do that for us to go and do something stupid."

I shrug my shoulders. "Eh, no one died. I got grounded and put in detention for a week, but I didn't regret doing it."

Clay peers over at me briefly. "Seriously? Even after all the trouble you got into?"

"Yeah. I was a suck-up to you and your friends, if you didn't notice." I try to laugh it off, but I can feel my awkwardness sneaking up on me. "I would have done anything for attention."

Clay shakes his head. "I thought you were brave."

It catches me so off guard that I don't have time to figure out what to say. I simply smile, and a nervous laugh slips out of my mouth. I look at Clay and shake my head. "I guess you and I have different views on what being brave is."

Clay just shakes his head, grinning.

We ride in surprisingly comfortable silence with the windows down and music playing loud enough for the people on the sidewalk to hear us. We steal glances every once in a while, when a really good song comes on, singing the lyrics simultaneously.

After almost an hour of driving, Clay finally comes to a stop along the highway. There are a ton of cars lined along the road, all the way up to the entrance of a park I remember from when I lived here before. It was a large park with a small playground for kids and a few pavilions where may people had family gatherings and parties. Now you wouldn't be able to tell it's a park because of the crowd.

"What's going on?" As soon as the question leaves my mouth, Clay has already gotten out of the truck. I do the same and meet him in front of it. "What's this?"

"My inspiration," he says simply as he waves me along.

I walk alongside him as we near the entrance to the park. "This is your inspiration? A huge shin-dig?"

He laughs, shaking his head at me. "Pretty much."

I sigh. "So, this is what's important to you? What your essay is about?" When I was helping him begin his paper, we only wrote about why things are important as an opening. He said his teacher liked that kind of stuff. But when it came time to write about what was actually important to him, he disappeared to his apartment.

Clay stops behind a line of people waiting to get into the park. He looks at me, holding my eyes as he shrugs his shoulders. "I mean... yeah." I stare at him for a few seconds before someone joins the line behind us. We turn around so we're facing forward again.

"I didn't bring any money in with me," I tell him, suddenly feeling guilty that I hadn't grabbed my wallet when we got out of the truck.

"I got you," he replies without hesitating. I narrow my eyes at him. I know he's just being a gentleman, but I hate when people spend money on me. And, well, this is screaming date to me. I try not to think about it. He said this would help him with his paper, so that's what we're here for.

Once we enter, we are pushed into a small open area, one of the few that isn't full of people. Placed strategically around the park are about four large white tents with smaller canopies spread out around them. Each one has different things displayed; wood carved into intricate objects, jewelry, handmade decorations, clothes, and more. It's one of those situations where if you'd name something, you may just find it here.

"Since when did they do this?" I have to raise my voice a little as we walk through the crowd so Clay can hear me.

"They started this up a few years ago. Actually, it may have been the same year you left. It's called the End of Summer Festival." I follow him as we walk under a tent with some of the small wooden trinkets made by the man who is selling them. One of them is a horse, carved with so much detail I can't understand how it was possible to make.

"And this is what your paper is about?" I ask, catching up with Clay after being distracted by the horse.

He looks almost annoyed that I keep asking questions. "Kind of. Mostly I just wanted to get some inspiration, as I said. Isn't that what writers do?"

I look up at him as he walks in front of me, guiding us through the maze of people. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

But I get the feeling that this is more than just inspiration for his paper. This is for more, something I don't know if I should let my mind believe.

_____________________

Song: Watermelon Sugar by Harry Styles!