A Little Bit Chilly

On our way to the Walter's Art Museum (I learned that Nikki was quite fond of art and scultures and paintings...things of that nature), I recieved a text message. I wasn't able to read it, as I was driving; but I handed it over to Nikki, who read it aloud:

"Alex, just you wait."

She frowned and set the phone down on her lap. She looked at me, then back at the phone, and back at me.

"Who texted that?" I asked. I looked over briefly. Her expression was alarmed. From the small look I got into her eyes, she looked indecisive. As if she wasn't quite sure if we should be worried about the text or not.

"Austin did," she whispered. "That's his number."

"Carlile? Or...your dude?"

"My dude. Not Carlile."

I cocked my head as I drove. The streets were crowded that day. But I wasn't nervous as I usually was around so many people. I was okay. And I had Nikki around for a good laugh or two.

She alwyas knew what to say. To make me smile. I think that was what I admired most in her. Her great sense of humor.

"How'd he get my number?" I asked. I couldn't fathom anything I had to wait for. Why?

Austin was always a bit weird when I was around him. The way he tried to act nice...I could always tell there was some kind of hostility underneath his armor.

Or something else. Just something wrong. He wasn't right in the head, and I wasn't sure if the others could see it.

The way he'd mumble to himself. Or how he was always this little brooding ball of piss that hid away from the rest of the world. I'd watched him. Closely. I'd seen the strange habits he had.

I didn't think anybody else really noticed it. Not even his own band. They were used to it.

"Nikki," I whispered, "why would he text me that? And how did he get my number?"

She didn't answer. Either question.