Her
I got in his car, flushed from the cold that did not match the flowy black skirt and pale creamy sweater I was wearing.
When I was done strapping my seatbelt firmly, I turned to face him and a strand of hair got stuck in the moisture of my burgundy lipstick.
"Hi," I said, shyly.
His eyes rested on my lips for a fraction of a second and, switching his focus back and forth to each of my eyes, he grinned.
"Hey you," he answered, sitting back on the driver's seat, "you look stunning."
I felt the heat rush to my face and quickly turned to the windowsill, my hands grasping the belt that crossed over my chest.
"It's so enticing.
When you blush your eyes do this thing,
you blink several times and race your attention to every spot around you. But-
you can't deal with my stare," he murmured.
"You're so dressed up," I noticed, frowning,
"where are you taking me?"
"Somewhere you'll end up wondering why you've never gone in your whole life," he answered, taking hold of the steering wheel and ruffling the flecks of hair that clouded his vision.
I didn't question him further. Surprises were not usually my thing and this boy was something else, something I could not get a hold of entirely.
The glass beside me rolled down at the same time as his did, the fresh breeze sweeping through my neck all the way to my feet.
My fingers clutched the seatbelt and my teeth pressed together.
Faust risked a glance at me.
"You look so tense. Calm down,
it's just a night out, if you don't like this I can take you back," he added, removing a hand from the steering wheel to rub his neck, "But it's a shame because I'm almost sure you'll love everything about this."
My toes curled, making pressure against the floor.
"No, I'm alright, don't worry- um, can you close my window, please?" I blabbered, uneasy.
_______
A couple of clock ticks later, we arrived at a crowded street, packed with busy people avoiding the cars and adjusting the coats around their bodies tighter.
"I know this place," I gasped faintly,
"He brought me here
once."
A string of emotions passed across his face.
Awe.
Dissappointment.
Envy.
Hurt.
"Who's he?"
YOU ARE READING
I named her Africa #Wattys2015
PuisiI didn't mind if my fingertips were rusted with coffee grounds, or if my palm still hosted bread crumbs, I reached out my hand across the table, and you squeezed it but proved me wrong. My mind was spiraling, my heart, unstable. ____________________...
