Hotter than Miami♥

Chapter Three♥

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I'll leave when the wind blows,

Take a breath and away it goes,

I'll be outside of your window,

I'll pass by but I'll go slow,

I'll leave when the wind blows.

Ian's face is stoic and his very chiseled jaw is clenched. 'I'll pass', he says, turning around and walking back to the drawing room. How rude is that? And let's not even talk about how I managed to embarrass myself all over again. I bet Rachel here will be thinking I have a teeny-winy crush on her very, frankly uncouth nephew, because, Rachel, almost reading my thought gives me a sheepish look. I just shrug nonchalantly.

'Don't mind him. Ian doesn't exactly come off as the friendliest person in the start, but it'll get better. He's just shy, you see.'

You don't say? And shy my ass, he was barbaric. The least he could do was let me down gently.

'But, he will come with you.' She then turns around and screams, 'Ian, go and get some fresh air. Make some friends. I didn't invite you over to rot at home.'

A loud groan resonates. 'I'm tired. I'll go tomorrow?'

'No, now! You've done nothing but laze around and sleep all day.'

A loud thud is heard, and about ten seconds later, a door slams shut. 'You better come in', Rachel says, 'It'll take a while.'

Fast forward the next five minutes and you have Ian Sykes coming down the stairs with a stony expression plastered on his face and a gait that couldn't be more careless. And yet, his very bollywood-ish entry made my breath hitch, to my utter resentment.

He gives me an impatient looks and says, 'Let's just go already?'

I scowl at him. Everything's my fault now, isn't it?

'Okay kids. Have fun! Stay safe. And Ian, call me if you're going to get late.'

About two minutes later, we're strapped in Clarisse's car. Ian turns up the radio to fill the silence. 'It's a good song,' I say, my fingers drumming the steering wheel along with the tune.

'That it is.' Ian nods, smiling. He talks! And he can smile!

'But someday, I will find my way back to where, your name,' I start singing along with the radio. Without a care in the world. Because it's my favorite song in the whole wide world.

And surprisingly, Ian joins right in.

'Is written in the sand!' We burst into a fit of laughter and thump our legs to the best of the song. This ride to the beach isn't too long. Our initial giggle subsides into what seems to be an awkward pause. And awkward, because either of us haven't uttered a word since about two minutes. We make eye contact twice, and then immediately feign ignorance and dart our eyes onto the road. Finally though, we reach.

I park hastily, but careful enough so as to not bump into anything. We walk towards the beach in silence, and the air is heavy with discomfort.

'So...' I say, in hopes to start an acceptable conversation.

'So...' He mimics.

'Argh. Don't do this. I'm trying to start a conversation. You're supposed to try too!'