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Catherine

"Why buy a new car if you're barely going to use it?" He was sorting through the cassette tapes on the dashboard while humming a tune. I started fidgeting with the ribbon at the end of my blouse, admiring how I can finally see my arms. After The Last Waltz stopped playing, with the applause of the audience on the background, nothing else was played. Maybe Benjie just wanted that song to play over and over when he got it recorded during its live performance.

I could have made the comment about our choice of vehicle earlier but he looked far more tense than I was.

I had something to say, and I had my chance during the whole car ride to the same bakery where I bought his cake. After getting coffee and two sandwiches, we hopped back in and I never questioned him on where we were going. He kept on driving until the sky turned to this beautiful faded purple color. When he did kill the engine, it was already dark, and we were at the pier. I could barely see the ships except the twinkling lights coming from the inside.

It was a little windy and the floral blouse I was wearing did little to help on keeping a warm-blooded mammal such as myself, well- warm. I got out and wrapped my arms around myself as the sea breeze tried its best to calm my nerves.

Be brave Catherine.

"Why here?" I turned to see him shutting his door, holding something in his hand.

"You looked bothered when I opened the door for you, and thought maybe you needed some fresh air." I felt something brush my arm and looked down to see the leather jacket he wore the first time we met. (And would have probably been the last if he didn't stop just in time.) Of course he may have other leather jackets but I've seen his wardrobe, which mainly consisted of white, black, and blue shirts. His polo shirts were a little more colorful.

The guy owns a lavender shirt. I haven't seen the pink one he wore when we visited my uncles. It was through the phone that my mom told me that Damon, the guy who couldn't even lift a broom for his dear life, pulled out a calf from Betsy. The poor guy must have been traumatized.

"Well it's a little salty, but thank you. I'm fine." He held the jacket out for me as I slipped my arms on its sleeves, shrugging as I pulled out my hair that caught on the back.

"You didn't look fine to me." Damon made me move aside as he tinkered with something on the back of the truck. He then pulled the tailgate down, and held out his hand. "Come on."

Confused, I took it and quickly felt his hands down my waist, lifting me from the ground with a grunt. He sat me down and followed.

"You know, you can talk to me about things. I'll try understanding whatever it is that's happening inside that pretty head of yours." He jumped off and walked back to get something inside the truck. When he resumed to his current position, he was holding the plastic bag that had our sandwiches on one hand, and the paper cup holder with our now lukewarm coffee. "Okay, I'm ready."

I looked at the sky for a little boost. Unlike the last time, the sky was generous enough to have stars scattered with a few clouds occasionally passing by.

"I always wondered how you stayed the way you are." It was this statement that made me look at him.

I held onto the jacket, his scent overpowering what little cologne I put on earlier.

"You get used to it." I was playing with the jacket's zipper when I said this. He looked funny with his eyes wide and his hands gesturing like crazy at me; like he couldn't believe that I was even saying these words.

"Well I'm not exactly sure on what I'm doing that you find unacceptable. It saves me time and money. Imagine all the ice cream I would have bought." Moving the strands of hair away from my cheeks, I tried making out his features.

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