The Thing About Three

chapter seven | wild child

THE SMELL OF years of cigarette smoke embedded into the interior of Noah's Mustang stung my nose as we drove, but I got used to it after a while, and then totally forgot about it when Noah really started driving.

Noah drove fast, and a little recklessly, but I kinda liked it. He took me to a back road on the outskirts of town, pushing the car as fast as it would go—which was pretty fast.

"WOOH!" he yelled out over the loud roar of the engine revving, smiling at me from ear to ear. "DOESN'T THAT SOUND NICE, BABY?" He revved it again.

I just laughed at him, feeling giddy from the rush and excitement of the drive.

I turned my eyes to the passenger window, watching the trees blur past us and disappear into the darkness.

"HEY, YOU WANNA DRIVE?"

I was quick to nod, and he slowed the car to a stop on the side of the road. Before he got out, he grabbed a grocery bag full of CDs from the back seat and handed it to me.

"You wanna put in a CD?"

"This thing has a CD player?" I frowned, looking at the dash.

"Yeah, my uncle put it in a few years back and redid the sound system. It actually sounds pretty good."

"Huh." I sifted through the bag's contents. "Your uncle had some interesting taste in music," I said, noticing that most of the CDs were in other languages or were labeled as mixtapes. I didn't really see anything I recognized, so I ended up sticking with a mixtape lovingly labeled 90s Songs and Crap in someone's fast hand.

A song started to play when we switched spots and I buckled myself into the driver's seat. I'd find out through research when I got home later that night that the song was Green Day's "She," and it turned out to be a horrible song for me to drive to.

Because it was energetic and exciting and made me want to drive fast, and so I did. It was the fastest I'd ever driven, and with the music loud and the engine roaring, my gosh I think I finally understood why car guys always raved about sports cars all of a sudden, because that was fun.

"THIS IS SO MUCH FUN!" I ended up yelling at Noah. He was drumming his hands to the beat on his jean-clad thighs as he caught my eyes.

He laughed. "I KNEW YOU'D LIKE IT!"

He let me drive until the song was over, and then we switched spots once again and left the road for the interstate that led back into town.

"I think I need to invest in a sports car now," I told him. "Because that was way too much fun. Can we do that, like, every Sunday?"

He watched me out of the corner of his eyes, smiling to himself. "You know, you're a bit more wild than I thought you were."

I laughed. "'Wild?'" I repeated. "Literally no one has ever called me that before."

"Yeah, I guess I can see why. I always thought you were kinda goody-two-shoesy or whatever. But you're not really that, are you?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I've never really thought about myself like that—and definitely wouldn't say I'm wild."

"Well, wild child, you wanna go grab something to eat? Does Taco Bell sound good?"

"Yeah," I answered, and then he was taking the next exit and turning left toward Taco Bell.

It was oddly packed for a Sunday night, so we ate outside on a bench. He talked about some of the things he wanted to do to his Mustang in between bites of his nachos. I listened intently, well I looked like I was listening intently, but in reality I just liked looking at him.