Us After The Fallout

Part 2

The ride is silent other than the soft music she has playing, mellow indie pop filling the car and space where our own words should be said. But it isn't awkward silence. Mia and I usually drive in silence other than music. I think we both just like the break it seems to allow us almost. 

A time when we can shutout the constant chaos cycling through our heads since the shooting. 

Mia is driving, sitting in her usual position with one hand on the wheel, her other propped up on her leg that's up on her seat as she leans against it. I don't know how she navigates LA traffic like this. As if she has no stress or worry about the other cars around us or the fast speeds we all travel. 

But that's Mia. 

Just like the music is her. And the daisy keychain hanging from her mirror. And the smell of her perfume that somehow always masks even the strongest of her car air fresheners; the perfume that manages to cloud my thoughts every time. 

Which reminds me of her hands on my face, calming me down and her eyes allowing me to find my grounding. Her vanilla and almond scent stronger than ever despite the sweat even. It's almost too much in the car remembering that, suffocating and bringing to surface every confused thought and emotion that seems to be recurring more and more lately when I am with her. 

Remembering the night we– I stop my thoughts from going further as I shift in my seat towards the window. I told myself I wouldn't think of what happened ever again after we established that we didn't regret it, but it wouldn't happen again. We are just friends. But why then is it getting harder and harder every day to shut it out?

"Italian sound good to you?" she says, her voice breaking the silence and snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah, uh, yeah I could go for spaghetti," I stutter out, failing to form a sentence how I intend after being lost in thought.

Thankfully, we pull into the start of her driveway giving me a chance to gather myself. She rolls down the window and punches in the passcode on her gate, unbothered that I can see what she is typing. A lot of our friendship is like that where we have this unspoken trust between us, even though we were relatively strangers less than four months ago. 

The familiar buzz rings out and the grinding noise of the metal gate sliding open as she pulls through and up to the front of the house, throwing it into park, and shutting it off. 

She hops out and starts grabbing her bag from the backseat, while I'm still struggling to slide out of the car. 

Sometime during the ride, the pain in my limbs increased which I realize now of course, not helping my case of trying to bend and pull myself out. I get one leg out, slightly hissing in pain and she's there by the door of the car. 

I glance up at her face that's suddenly moving closer to me and I hold my breath, unable to move. She stops inches from me and grabs under my arms helping to lower me softly out of the car. 

Still holding my breath I try not to make eye contact, but I can't help it as her eyes shift up to mine as well. Somehow, our faces are a breath away for the second time today and what the hell is happening to me? 

Her blue eyes hold mine, an unrecognizable emotion showing in them, and it feels increasingly dangerous to keep looking, but definitely not as much as it would be to look where they desperately want to on her face. It could have been minutes, but was likely seconds as I released the air I was holding in as she broke the connection and slid to my side.

"Put your arm around me and I'll help you walk inside," she says as her arm wraps around my waist effortlessly and settles on my hip. 

I gulp, butterflies now in my stomach and I shakily put my arm around her exposed midsection making sure to avoid the scrapes on my hand. Slowly we walk together to the front door and I try my best to not flinch with each step.