ACHES

5. sunshower

"You live close to the bar," he noticed, hands tight on the steering wheel. I wished he'd reach over, hold one hand to the inside of my thigh.

"Yeah," I clasped my hands together, "Convenient, I suppose."

"Sure," he nodded, his hand opening on the wheel as he turned right. "You go there a lot?"

"I guess," I uncrossed my ankles, and crossed them again. "Not a concerning amount."

"'Course not."

I listened to the low hum of his car. He kept the radio off, which made me focus on the sound of my breathing.

"Do you live in the city?" I asked, since he asked about where I lived. And I didn't want to admit that I did go to the bar a concerning amount.

"No, I'm just visiting for a bit." He looked over his shoulder as he changed lanes. All his stops and starts were smooth, and he never went too fast around corners. The way he drove nearly lulled me to sleep.

"You have family here?"

"No," he laughed, then cleared his throat, "No." He flicked on the heating, adjusting the vent to wash over my stiff hands.

"So you're gonna disappear on me in a few days?" I joked, hoping he understood my sarcasm.

"This car turns into a pumpkin at midnight," he shrugged. Then, more seriously, "I'm here a week longer."

"Well," I patted his shoulder, "Thanks for giving me one of your evenings."

"Two," he corrected, with a shiny smile.

"That was more of a night, I think," I returned his smile with a bigger one, squeezing my interlocked fingers back together so I wouldn't reach out for him again.

"Sure was," he looked at me, winking. My heart rolled over.

We had slept together.

I swallowed, not unhappy, but feeling embarrassed. This was a new fucking low, completely blacking out and sleeping with a stranger in a random hotel room. I could've been killed. I could feel all the excitement of the evening seep from my pores, leaving an adrenaline-like emptiness. My pulse battered its way up my neck.

"We're here," he parked the car, "Ready?"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"So, at that point, I wasn't even really listening to her," he rambled, chin resting neatly on his open palm. His fingers tapped his cheek steadily, a metronome which I watched closely, waiting for the seconds to dissipate. "I mean, who says something like that? So I told her–"

"Matty," I interjected timidly, setting my fork on the pristine napkin, "I think I should go."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he sat up straight, picking up his cup of wine, "Let me take you home."

"Thank you, but," I grimaced, clearing my throat. I smoothed the white tablecloth in front of me. "I think... I don't think it's working."

His glass paused on his lips, "You don't think it's working?" He blinked slowly, voice distorted from the cup.

"You're really lovely," I smiled, and he set his glass down quickly. I sighed, "I just don't think I'm the girl for you."

His eyes looked down at his thumbs, which traced the edge of each other slowly. "Why not?" he was quiet, mumbling.

"Listen, I'm really sorry," I urged, standing from the table, "It was great getting to know you."

"Yeah," he stood, reaching out, then tucking his hand behind his neck, "Yeah, you too."

"I'm sorry," I squeaked for a final time, letting my eyes linger on his furrowed brow. My lips formed a goodbye, but I couldn't manage to speak it aloud. I turned, leaving him in the restaurant alone. My heart was thudding painfully in my chest.

"Wait!" I heard him call, and I stopped on the sidewalk. I didn't look back, frozen as I heard him run up behind me. "I didn't sleep with you."

I turned to face him, his eyes wide with panic.

"Oh."

"No," he shook his head forcefully, knocking a few curls loose onto his forehead. "You were drunk. I... I would never."

"I thought you were drunk too," I picked at the corner of my thumb, ripping the skin into jagged pieces. "You were drunk when we left the bar."

"I, um," he was frantically scraping his hands through his neatly gelled hair, "I just sober up quickly, to be honest."

"Okay," I tried to find some sort of courage to tell him I had completely blacked out.

"I don't know why I fucking winked at you," he laughed, without humour. "I'm so fucking nervous, I'm trying not to fuck this up."

"I don't want to either," I assured him, noticing his shoulders relax as I spoke. He thumbed at the corner of his mouth, pursing his lips. His hands were busy without a cigarette occupying them.

"I really like you," he took a careful step forward, slipping a hand behind my elbow. He held it there gingerly, like a hummingbird over a flower. "I got you something."

"What?" I frowned, "You don't need to buy me anything."

He smiled, "Just let me show you first." He reached into the pocket of his jacket– which I was still wearing– pulling out a small jewelry case. It was sleek and expensive. He looked at me with a star in his iris. "Marry me?"

"Um," I sputtered, my mouth opening and closing stupidly.

He laughed quietly, "Kidding."

"Oh, fuck you," I sighed, then fell silent as he opened the case. Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, simple with small diamond stars dangling at even intervals. "I can't take that."

"It might be a bit big," he fussed, taking the bracelet out of the case, "Give me your arm, sweetheart."

"I can't have that," I traced my fingers over my wrist, shaking my head. The bracelet sparkled like sunshower between his fingers.

"The diamonds are fake," he reached for my hand, clasping the bracelet around my cold wrist easily. "Fits perfect."

"Promise they're fake."

"They're fake."

"Because if–"

"I want you to have it, please. To remember our first night." His eyebrows tucked into each other, pleading.

I didn't remember our first night. "Okay."

His hands were still on my wrist, his thumb pressed to the inside of it.

"I can take you home now."

"Okay."

His palm moved to cover mine, holding my hand firmly. He pulled me to his car, opening the door for me. When I fastened my seatbelt, he stared down at me, leaning against the roof of the car. I looked up at him, watching his mouth twitch and threaten to speak. He just let his pupils fill his irises, licking his bottom smiling lip. He closed the door.