Just Friends

[ 5 ].

Ghost reached across to fasten your seatbelt. He took a moment to double-check it was secure, his fingers brushing against the cool metal of the buckle. His old, worn leather jacket, a second skin that had seen better days, was removed from his broad shoulders. The material carried the faint scent of motor oil, smoke, and his cologne. He gently draped it over your slender shoulders, the leather slightly rough against your skin.

His brown eyes tried to meet yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze, a silent plea for you to meet his eyes. But you stubbornly refused to look at him, choosing instead to keep your gaze fixed on the speckled night sky, the twinkling stars offering a temporary escape from the tense atmosphere.

Eventually, he conceded defeat, his shoulders sagging as he let out an inaudible sigh. He muttered something under his breath - the words indistinct and laced with an undercurrent of frustration that you chose to ignore.

With one last glance in your direction, he climbed into the driver's seat. The door closed with a harsh, echoing slam that cut through the silent night, leaving a ringing in your ears. He started the engine, and the truck roared to life.

In the midst of the palpable tension, you felt an undeniable reluctance to be the one to shatter the silence that wrapped around you like a cocoon. The world seemed to whirl and spin dizzyingly around you. Your mind was a tumultuous sea, still reeling, overflowing with a torrent of unanswered questions that incessantly screamed for answers. It was an avalanche of emotions, too much to comprehend, too overwhelming to fully digest.

Amid your inner chaos, Ghost seemed to become aware of your discomfort. His rough, battle-hardened hand found its way to your thigh, the icy chill of your skin seeping into his touch. Without uttering a single word, he stretched his hand, his fingers grazing away from your leg, reaching over to the dashboard, and turned on the heat.

"You are not getting out of this truck until we speak," he declared, his voice stern but laced with concern, before shifting the vehicle into gear and starting driving, the hum of the engine serving as a steady background noise.

You pressed your lips together tightly—a clear symbol of your stubborn resistance. His words echoed in your mind as you watched him from the corner of your eye. You made a silent vow to yourself to remain mute, to not let a single sentence escape your lips. A vow to keep your thoughts and feelings to yourself, locked away where they couldn't be scrutinized or judged.

But even as you stubbornly clung to your silence, you found it hard to ignore him entirely. The man sitting next to you, his presence, was too commanding, too overwhelming, too difficult to overlook. His frame seemed to fill the inside of the truck, making it impossible for you to forget that he was there, igniting a sense of awareness you wished you could dismiss. His existence was a force you couldn't ignore, no matter how much you tried.

His hands were firmly clasped around the steering wheel, fingers pressing into the worn leather as he maneuvered the vehicle through the gravel roads. He rolled down the window, the cool breeze of the night slipping in to replace the previously stagnant air. Reaching into his pants' pocket, he retrieved a pack of cigarettes, drawing out a single, well-rolled stick.

The warm glow of his lighter momentarily illuminated the inside of the truck, casting shadows across his concentrated features. His eyebrows were furrowed, lips parted slightly as he brought the flame to the end of the cigarette, lighting it with a soft sizzle. He inhaled deeply, drawing the smoke into his lungs and flooding his senses with the familiar, comforting taste. The smoke danced and twirled in the small, enclosed space, curling up towards the roof.

Slowly, he turned his head to the side, his gaze drifting towards the open window. He exhaled, releasing the smoke and watching as the wind swept away it. Your hand extended towards him, a silent request hanging in the air between you. Your eyes met, locking onto each other.