Love, Hart [Discontinued]

nine

Continuous from last chapter.

-

RUBY

After arguing for twenty minutes on why he should take me to the market and buy me pickles he finally gave in.

Now I'm outside of his his house waiting for him to get his car keys. I told him that we could walk and he said that if we were going to the market he was most definitely not going to walk.

Lazy.

My arms are wrapped around my torso hugging it as I stared up at the place Aspen calls home. The last time I saw this place people were scattered on the lawn either passed out or puking.

His house seems so dull in contrast to the night of his birthday. No LED lights flashing or any blaring music. No cheering or random sounds of breaking glass.

It's just quiet.

A shiver ran down my spine as I remembered the events that occurred the night of his birthday and almost immediately felt uncomfortable. I turned away from the house and to the car that was parked before me.

A black Ford150. The windows were tinted and the car was taller than me by a lot.

"Ready?" Aspen said from his front door. I craned my neck to the right and gave him a tight-lipped smile. After he unlocked the doors I climbed in.

The interior was nice. The center console, dashboard, and small portion of the door was a crimson red. Other parts of the car were rimmed with the same red too, but majority of it was black.

I ran my finger along the red that lined the seats. I've never been in a car this nice before. My dads 2006 Volvo was nothing compared to this car. I felt out of place sitting in something so nice.

"Ruby!"

My hand retracted from the seat and my head snapped in the direction of the drivers side of the car.

"Which market are we going to?" He looked smug and probably caught me checking out his car. "What? Oh, uhm..."

He nodded slowly waiting for me to answer his question, but my mind was completely blank.

"Spit it out, hermit." He said. My mind slowly drifted back to the night of the party where I stumbled on my own words, trying to find a topic of conversation.

I glared at him and turned in my seat. "Barkley."

"Barkley?" He screeched incredulously. "That's like forty minutes away! Why can't we go to the one near Lake Forest?"

"Because their pickles there are nasty, Aspen. Have you not tasted them?"

"No."

"Well you need to. They taste like shit."