The Way I Feel Inside | h.s.

4

I laughed at his suggestion and pulled my purse around to the front of my body to get my phone out. Fish tacos. "I know a spot," I said quietly as I navigated my way through the app on my phone, "I can order now and it should be ready by the time we get there. It's a spot just by the Space Needle." I wanted him to know where we were going, since he was in the car with a stranger. Although he didn't seem to care. This man's lack of safety precautions was unnerving.

I could hear his smile in his voice as I pressed the necessary options on the phone, "Sounds great. Three fish tacos please, and thank you."

I placed the order, then turned my phone's Bluetooth on. I set my phone down in the cup holder in the center console. The car's display screen showed my phone connecting to it then started the music back up from what was playing on my drive over here. I let out a relieved exhale when I saw that I had not been listening to Harry's music. I think that would've been just a little too weird for the moment, considering he already saw my bumper sticker displaying his signature tattoo and tagline.

'And baby, I get mystified by how this city screams your name

And baby, I'm so terrified of if you ever walk away

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again'

The familiar acoustic melody played softly in the car and I automatically started singing along, always needing music on while driving in the car. I think it helps my nerves. I had a good driving record, but was in a small car accident in high school. I was t-boned while driving with Val in the passenger seat. We were both fine but it was scary nonetheless, remembering the look on Val's face when the other car smashed into her side and screaming as we spun out. I've been wary about driving with other people in the car ever since then. Music helped prevent my imagination from overthinking all the things that could potentially go wrong.

"I like this song," Harry's deep voice interrupts my autopilot focus as we reached a red light just before the Ballard Bridge. I glanced over to Harry. His hood was down now and his right elbow was perched on the passenger side door, his hand casually running through his brown locks. The red traffic light illuminated his face and I immediately thought of his Lights Up video.

That video is so fucking hot.

I pushed the thought away and reached forward to turn the volume up in response to him. I knew he knew who sang it - my car's display screen had the song title and artist name right there with a photo: Cornelia Street (Live From Paris) - Taylor Swift. 

I glanced at him questionably, searching his eyes for any other hidden meaning in his words. This look brought out an immediate exhaled chuckle from his lips as he broke eye contact and flicked the tip of his nose with his bent right index finger. "Don't look at me like that."

I smiled at his nervousness and took the opportunity to feel more control in this situation. I stared at him and asked, "Like what?"

He noticed my confidence and raised a challenging eyebrow, leaning his left elbow onto the center console and moving his head a couple inches closer to the middle of the car, closer to me.

"Like an interviewer who wants to pry personal information out of me," he warned, narrowing his eyes as they bounced back and forth between each of mine.

My mouth dried and I felt crimson guilt wash over my cheeks. His eyes looked over my face, then nodded his head toward the front of the car and said calmly, "The light's green, Bee."

I sucked in a sharp inhale as I snapped my focus to the front of the car. I pressed my foot on the gas a little too hard, causing us to jolt forward in our seats a bit. "Sorry," I mumbled, apologizing for the harsh acceleration.