By the Light of a Blue Moon (1,232 views)

Holy crap... holy crap. He said yes. This was actually going to happen. Cliff let out a breath he wasn’t sure he’d been holding as he allowed the reality of the situation to dawn on him. Cleo bouncing over went unnoticed by him – until he felt her presence by his side. He looked over at her happy little squeal. That sound caused Cliff’s lips to twitch up into an unconscious grin.

”You sound like a squirrel when you do that!” He said, laughing a little at the thought, but that didn’t deter him as he felt her arm against his while she looked at his screen. For a second he felt nervous, like at that exact moment Noah was going to text him something weird. But he didn’t, and Cliff looked over to Cleo’s brilliant smile that lit up the room. Or maybe it was the sunlight filtering in through the window behind her, with dust twinkling in the light like stars.

”Right, yeah! Yeah,” He said. He got a ping just as Cleo started to head down. ”Robin says it would have to be in the summer, though. But I mean... we couldn’t exactly do this during the year.”

This was... actually happening. Cliff followed Cleo towards the kitchen then, wondering if they were going to bump into her mother again.

”But c’mon, I’m a pro at scooping ice cream. I get ten bucks an hour for it!” he insisted – but still was not allowed to follow Cleo downstairs. Oh well, that was ok, he guessed. He was now left in Cleo’s room sans Cleo and didn’t have anything to do now.

He debated sitting on the edge of her bed but figured that would be weird – so he took a seat by the desk, near the open window. The breeze was nice as he blew through and ruffled through his hair, reminding him of the fact he had his long hair pulled back into a bun. He reached up and tugged his hair out of the knot, letting it blow free. That was more like it! He’d just have to pull it back before he left in case Cleo’s mom saw him. But... did he really look that much different with his hair down?

The wind continued to rustle throughout the room and Cliff heard a noise come from the direction of the bed – and looked at a book that seemed to have been jostled free from underneath the pillow. It looked like it was about to fall so Cliff got up and walked over, picking it up to tuck it back in.

Before he could, though, he noticed a familiar name. He paused and looked at Cleo’s handwriting before him, laying out a story about Fletch being some hero. Maybe it was just a story? Maybe it was just some name she heard and liked, and decided to use for a character? He flicked around the diary – despite his better judgement – and saw Fletch’s name numerous times and almost all of them were these odd, fairy tale stories where the prince was named Fletch or something! He got angrier, flicking through the pages more, almost ripping one of them as he kept getting more annoyed. Why would she care about Fletch’ muscles or eyes?! Why did she mention them so much? Why did she want Fletch the mechanic - -he caught that somewhere – to be her knight in shining armor, to come in on a glittering motorcycle and whisk her off to Neverland?! It made no sense!

Cliff almost didn’t hear footsteps ascending the stairs and when eh finally heard someone reach the landing he dropped the diary – causing it to land on the floor – and he swore and knelt down and quickly shoved the diary back underneath Cleo’s pillow. When she opened the door he tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, quickly almost running back to the desk and sitting there as if he’d not been doing anything.

”Hi! Hi,” He said, smiling sheepishly when she said her mom had left. ”Thanks, strawberry is fine.”

Cliff looked away from Cleo licking the side of her cone and took his from her too quickly, taking a big chomp out of the ice cream in his nervousness. The result was a brain freeze that had him hissing in pain and clutching his head. ”Brain freeze,” he said, hoping his behavior didn’t look weird or anything.

The tip that Cleo offered him was one Cliff had bene told before – and for some reason it rarely seemed to work on him! But, still, he listened to her and pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. It wasn’t immediate, but slowly the brain freeze subsided and he breathed out a sigh.

”I don’t know why that never works for me.” He said. When she chastised him for not knowing about that trick, yet for being a ‘professional’, he grinned at her. ”I don’t eat the ice cream professionally! I serve it. I have a good scooping wrist,” proudly, he rolled his wrist as a demonstration.

Still, somehow she was closer than him remembering her being. She stepped away not long afterwards and Cliff exhaled, glad – until she flopped onto the bed and stirred her diary. He saw it, his eyes went wide, and he quickly tried to distract himself and her by flopping down in her desk chair again and taking another lick of his ice cream. ”So, uh...” could he ask about Fletch? He wondered. ”...do you know anyone, I dunno, who might be able to... help us when we go on our... trip?” his voice lowered as he spoke the last part. He wondered if she’d admit to knowing Fletcher, or if she’d leave him in the dark.

Cliff watched Cleo’s face for any changes in demeanor or expression. She seemed to zone out slightly, lost in thought probably. She did admit that she knew someone who might be able to help with the car and get it tuned up. Cliff felt his heart rate pick up as he sat there, feeling an ache start to seep throughout his stomach that he couldn’t quite explain the reason for.

He looked at Cleo’s knuckles as they became sticky and sugary with ice cream. He blinked.

”You’re dripping,” He pointed out, and he wanted to ask if it was Fletch she knew. He opened his mouth to do so but seemed to change his mind. No... had to be someone else, right? ”Who do you know?” He asked, opting not to bring in Fletcher’s name himself.

Cliff felt his heart sink as she mentioned that the mechanic she knew was named Fletcher. So it was the same Fletcher, wasn’t it? There was only one local mechanics, and one guy named Fletcher – though he had to admit her comment of him doing a ‘good, honest job’ kind of threw him off. Couldn’t be the same Fletcher.

”Oh, I know someone who can help too. And uh – what – what mechanics do you know? Like, a few towns away? Because I know a guy named Fletcher who works on cars but – there’s no way he, I mean, that he would ever do a good honest job, he’s kind of...” Cliff wondered if it was someone else. It had to be someone else. He no longer felt a desire for his ice cream. ”Sketchy. He works at the mechanics in town.”