The ground crunched under the rigid black tires. Tiny pebbles were being squished under the larger objects, while Joan Jett And The Blackhearts played at a decent volume from the radio.
His fingers tapped to the beat against the steering wheel, as he softly head-banged his head and sang along quietly.
"Ah, now when she comes walkin' over
Now I've been waitin' to show her
Crimson and clover
Over and over"
It was late... Or early, whichever term you'd prefer for 1:30 in the morning. He had gone out for a drive, as it was the best way to calm his nerves and worries. Even though he still lived with his parents (foster parents, but whatever), he was 18. He was legally his own person now, he can do whatever he wanted. He couldn't get in trouble for sneaking out at 1 in the morning to drive in his grandfather's car.
He was a blond boy, with a little bit of stubble on his face from not shaving for several weeks. His brown eyes always kept focus on the road, only momentarily tearing his gaze away to change the radio or turn up the volume as his large, calloused hands clutched the steering wheel.
He was broken away from his happy place about Joan Jett and old cars by the sound of rattling and weakening mechanics. He made a look of confusion before he realized it was coming from his own 1962 impala. Concern etched on his face and he looked around for a place to pullover, spotting a small coffee shop to his left.
He had barely made it into a parking space before his car shut off, stopping completely on him. He sighed out of frustration and banged his fists against the steering wheel before murmuring a barely-there "fuck" under his breath, putting his head down and running his hands through his hair, tugging on it lightly.
He looked up at the coffee shop that he parked in front of. It read "Tiffany's Coffee House." It looked very tiny, and was almost completely made of wood on the outside, two windows side by side being the only contrast. He looked at the sign in the window, and was relieved to see what it read in bright, colourful words powered by electricity.
Open.
YOU ARE READING
Where Will I Go
Teen Fiction"You know stuff about cars?" The blond asked. The brunet gave a tiny smile, making small dimples appear in his cheeks. "Yeah, a little." The blond looked a bit skeptical, but he couldn't really be picky right now. There's no way in hell he was gonna...
