Shades of Cool

n. i. n. e.

"I wouldn't be a very good kidnapper if I told my kidnapee where I was kidnapping her to."

"Before you started talking did you think, "I'm going to see how many times I can say kidnapping and/or any variation in a sentence"?

"You know me." He puts one hand on his chest, covering his heart. "You really know me."

I swat his arm with my hand.

"I'm not a kidnapee; I'm your co-adventurer."

"Ah. Yes, Indiana. How could I forget?"

"You've been smoking too much of that hippie lettuce."

He starts laughing and looks over at me.

"What the fuck did you just say? Hippie lettuce?"

"Yeah."

"You mean weed?"

"Yes."

"But you called it hippie lettuce."

"Have you not heard that?"

"No."

We rolled up to a red light.

"All the names for weed. Go."

"Pot."

"Reefer."

"Ganga."

"Devil grass."

"That's not a thing."

"It's most definitely a thing."

"Bullshit."

"Fuck off."

"Now we really do sound married." I laugh.

The rain is still belting down outside, hard enough that the street lights blur and morph. His car is tidy and smells like Finn and the beach.

I let the darkness cover me as I shamelessly stare at his profile in the driver seat. His blonde hair is tie back and he's wearing a black hoodie. His fingers are tapping along to the song floating out of the radio. He looks so fucking cute.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" He glances over at me; checking me staring.

I look back at the dashboard in front of me.

"It's your car."

"No shit. Does the smoke bother you?"

"Nah. My mom smokes."

He cracks his window and feels around for his cigarettes.

"Where are they?" I say after a while of him fumbling.

"I thought they were in my pockets." He feels around some more and I look around too.

"Shit." His hands stop their mission. "Alright, Indiana. Adventure detour!"

"Real adventures don't smoke, Lara!"