Sunflowers and Motel Beds
By Gia, age 18, Florida
Sweet Designs Staff Intern
Sweet Designs Featured Writer
There is a girl whom I'll call Georgia. She's your stereotypical high school girl, an artist. No, there aren't paint blobs in her short dyed red hair or on her well-worn jeans. She's a part time writer and a photographer, camped out on the beaches or in neighborhood parks, waiting for an image to catch her eye.For the majority of the people in this world who don't know her, Georgia has a few favorites. She drinks chocolate milk while watching TV. Love songs give her the most inspiration. And to make her smile, buy her sunflowers. Georgia dislikes her high school, cold feet, and getting her heart broken. The last one, well, she sat on the dirty floor of her high school's second floor bathroom, sobbing as her boyfriend broke up with her via text message. Since then, Georgia has had boys, not random boys, but well-thought-of boys.
High school makes you make decisions you might not make if you were sane. Georgia walked into her third period Spanish class. This was the year she would get her life in order.
"No boys," she thought. As she did a quick glance she couldn't help but notice one boy. He sat awkwardly in the middle of boys she guessed were his friends. "You promised yourself," she reminded herself. A year passes by fast was the caption of the photo she had just uploaded. It was an empty hall, papers scattered, lockers left open. Her summer was spent; well, that's where the story begins.
The guy from that Spanish class had a name she finally learned - Derek. A hometown boy who kept mostly to his room and video games.
"Let's go on a trip. No questions. I want fresh sunflowers," she told him over the phone. Twenty minutes later, they were stuck in rush hour traffic on I-95. Before this, Derek only gave Georgia quick hugs - he didn't want to push his luck with her. As the two of them sat in traffic, arguing over whose music they would listen to first, Derek got up the nerve to hold her hand. She kept talking, not noticing until he picked up her right hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. That's how it stayed for the rest of the trip. They held hands while getting gas, eating fast food, pretty much everything.
Around 9:30, Georgia pulled over to a motel. They were in some town, hungry and tired. Even from the start of this trip, money was tight. They shared a bed, where Georgia and Derek would intertwine their legs while flipping through channels.
"You're perfect," he whispered. Georgia, known for once in a while giving smart remarks, stayed quiet.
Georgia remembers pulling into some other town, north of the one they just stayed in, where she saw them ... sunflowers ... tons of them. Derek remembers her laugh and how she smiled while disappearing into the sunflower fields. They spent the day there, then leisurely made their way home.
It's been a week or so since they came home. Derek and Georgia have been together here and there. At night, Georgia tries to remember how it felt to sleep next to Derek, the way he pouted his lips or curled his body close to hers. Everyone knows they haven't been together long enough to be in love. Their response is, "Well, you just don't know us then. This is true love." Then they talk about sunflowers and that road trip, and no one tries to say they aren't in love.