2

After finding the baggage claim, and fishing Robbie's bags from the swarms of other luggage and people alike, we make our way to the car. We manage to squeeze his stuff into the vehicles tiny trunk, but not without quite a bit of re-situating. Lisa climbs in back, and I'm left to drive.
"I call shotgun," says Robbie, and I nod dumbly, surprised that he wouldn't want to catch up with his cousin in the back. It's stupid, but this man makes me slightly nervous. Although I haven't even known him for more than 20 minutes, it seems that if I make a mistake with this dark-haired beauty, it will eliminate the chance of me unlocking the 'mystery' that seems to encase him. Slightly lame thinking, I know. I can't tell if it's just that 'English allure' that's gotten to me again, like it did with Lisa, or not.

"Are we going straight back to your place, Lis?" We are safely inside the car, and pulling out of the large airport car garage after what seems like years of turning round and round, descending the ramps from Level D to the main street. It's early in the day here, no later than 8 or 9 AM, but the dark, rolling clouds make it seem later. The rain has been reduced to more of a sprinkle, and I peer out from beneath the windshield at the sky defiantly.

"If we're going to catch the 9:40 boat, then yes. We'll go adventuring in Seattle later," She sighs, cozying up to the plaid blanket that I have in my car at all times.

Yes, I live on an Island in the Puget Sound. I like to call my rock V-town, or as it's more commonly known as, Vashon. Off Islanders like to call it 'Hippie-Town', or 'Stonerville'. It's quite quaint; actually, our Island is home to many oddities. But that's just what makes it so beautiful. I can't help but love our small town, mostly. I can tell you one thing, though; taking ferries (boats for cars) can become the epitome of boredom for those without creative souls. And sometimes I just can't help but not have a creative soul.

Finally, we reach the boat dock, and I dig some tickets out from my dashboard. I have to reach over Robbie in the process, which is a little awkward. Eventually I find the tickets, and manage to give them over to the ferry worker, whom is roaming the lines of cars to gather those little bits of paper. Within 5 minutes we are on the boat, having arrived as the other cars were un-loading.

We pile out of the car, and I and Lisa laugh as Robbie lurches uncomfortably as the engine of the boat starts. It's a loud thing, but because we are used to it, it doesn't bother us. We move upstairs, where the commuters and car-riders mingle. White tile paves the floors, and Green and black benches are everywhere. We all make our way to the outside deck, where you can watch the water swish in one large, pronounced torrent from the large propeller that moves us. Robbie moves to the railing, leaning over it and spreading his arms wide.

"Wow, I feel like I should be saying 'I'm king of the world!', or something," he smiles at me, and I smile back. I don't spoil his fun by telling him that we are at the back of the boat, and also that the 'Titanic' jokes have all been used before, and are very old. "Come now, girls, spread you're wings, that's it, fly." I feel childish, but in a good sort of way, as me and Lisa pretend we are flying. He's charming in the way that he is confident, and I can't help but feel a surge of warmth as our arms brush against each other.