Lena's Love

Repairing Broken Bonds

I am riding to school with Ajax this morning. Tiger sent me a gloomy message after I got home from Maisie's last night saying she has to go in early, and I didn't want to get up any earlier then I have to. I told Ajax about my little problem and he insisted I ride with him. He finally has a new phone and keeps bugging me with messages. Well, it's not really an annoyance when I'm literally counting the seconds until he messages again. My stomach twists up in knots and a nervous blush coats my cheeks whenever I'm around him. It's like my body just cannot handle his hotness. I've always been quiet, but never shy, especially not around my friends, and I guess Ajax is my friend. Although some part of me doesn't like the idea of that.

I hurry out of my house right on time to find him leaning against his insanely cool car, waiting for me with a teasing smirk. His 1970s Chevy Camaro is a smooth inky black in colour with a thick white stripe reaching towards the windscreen on the bonnet. A picture-perfect car for a model-like man. This is actually my first time riding in it, although I have always wanted to ever since I first saw him pull up attracting everyones attention with the roar of his engine.

"Morning Lena." He grins, and turns to open the door for me. Whether that is to be a gentleman or make sure I don't make any marks on the handle I am not quite sure.

"Hey Ajax. I love your car." I sigh, my eyes roaming over the sparkling-clean vehicle. He takes better care of the car then his room.

"It is one of the reasons I am so loveable." He shrugs causing me to scoff playfully.

"Lovable isn't how I'd describe you." I tease.

"Really? I think you'll change your mind after our car journey." My breathing falters as his hand slips down my back as he guides me into his car. What does he mean by that? "My lady." He says in a laughable British accent.

It smells of leather and a faint tinge of booze inside, and I watch as he hurries around to the drivers seat. The steering wheel is larger then your average dining plate, and he winks at me as he starts the car, the roar of a lion disrupting the peaceful frost-bitten morning. He is fully at ease with the car, zooming off yet in full control, manipulating the steering wheel with the palm of one hand. God, why does everything about him have to be so hot?

He reaches to turn on the radio blasting heavy rock music throughout the vehicle making me jump. I turn to him with a glare spitting accusation making him laugh uncontrollably from the drivers seat.

He reaches over and squeezes my thigh, saying, "you're so freaking cute Lena," before returning to the steering wheel, hitting the breaks to comply with a stop sign.

My breathing falters as my eyes shut tightly, remembering the lingering warmth from his hand on my thigh. Although large, his hand hardly covered half of it, but I know I will feel the stain of his touch for days to come, each time wishing the feeling would return in greater quantities. For the rest of the ride I try to calm my overheated cheeks as his fingers tap on the steering wheel and his head nods to the music, eyes surveying the road as his messy bed head rocks to the music too. He is so cute when he gets into the music. Any friend would think that, right?

I would say we are close. Secrets have been shared between us for no one else to hear, and there is hardly a day when we are not with each other. He is always there for me and always knows when I need cheering up and how to make me feel better. I guess he is one of my closest friends. Definitely my favourite guy friend, although my feelings are confusing. My favourite thing about him, apart from his insane musical talent and the way he cares so deeply and loyally about his family, is his cute secret smile which seems to be reserved only for me. It's so different to how he looks at everyone else.