𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨

sugar in the tailpipe

CHAPTER EIGHT
"sugar in the tailpipe"

The reality that we had a thirty-four hour drive on our hands set in by that same night. I read from my book, the Great Gatsby, until my voice went hoarse and Buddy played a cassette he had prepared, which mainly consisted of Aerosmith. I struggled with the map occasionally, slept as much as I could, and enjoyed Buddy's hand which rested on my thigh.

The motel we stopped at was old and faded- the wallpaper had questionable stains and the furniture looked older than us, but we were too tired and too intoxicated from excitement to care.

I noticed his necklace hanging proudly from his neck as we brushed our teeth together, standing in the crummy bathroom and looking at each other's reflection. He bared his teeth, full of spit and foamy toothpaste, before spitting it out and I rolled my eyes. He looked at me once he stood up, tilting his head, adapting a stupid smile. "I love you." He said.

It was another milestone in our relationship, but it was not a big deal. Our love had been shown in other ways, many times over; so much so that the words didn't even begin to scratch the surface. It was the first time he said it for real, but I didn't need him telling me to know that he did.

My turn lingered, until I was in his arms later that night, smelling his cologne and feeling the softness of his skin. He was almost asleep, I could feel it, so I whispered, "I love you."

I felt him smile.

We preoccupied the rest of our drive with reading, eating takeout and gas station candy, and talking until we reached the streets of LA, feeling like we were new people entirely. They say LA changes you; we were welcoming it. It was a bright and sunny occasion, of course, until the realization came that we had absolutely no place to stay.

I had been accepted into UCLA, but alas it was summer, and I would have that time to prepare a place of living. We drove around a bit, marvelling at the sights and all of the cool people, until we found a good place to tuck the car in that would be undisturbed by cops and slept as well as we could. "Everything will work out just fine." Buddy told me, giving me a kiss on the cheek. I wasn't sure who he was comforting, me or him, but I smiled anyway.

Buddy managed to flag a job at a newsstand, and I was a waitress at a restaurant. The feelings of homesickness struck us both; Buddy, for his actual home, and me for Keith. Whenever we could spare the change, I'd call him until the time ran out. Still, our hope never died, even if we lived in our car for a while. This was LA, and it was going to be ours!

Good will was looking up for us. By the end of the month, we had managed to scrape the smallest apartment in the entire world, and Buddy's truck was now just a car again. It was gross, but it was cheap and it was our first place away from home. The following month, we could actually afford a bed for the place, which we decided to break in in a way I never had before.

Buddy seemed thrilled when I hinted at it. His eyes glistened like all over pubescent teenagers, a dopey smile plastered on his face as we kissed, hurriedly. "Are you sure?" He kept asking me, over and over again with every step. I could see he was ready for it, both emotionally and well.. physically, so I hummed in agreement as he lifted my shirt over my head.

He was shirtless now, too. His necklace dangled since he was above me, and between kisses he'd mutter, "You're so beautiful.. I'm so lucky.. I love you.." Despite this, a bad feeling settled in my stomach. I tried to ignore it- nerves, I thought- because really, who wouldn't lust over Buddy?