Test Drives ✓

ii. induratize

Note | this is not the most well thought out book in the world, nor do i plan to waste any of my time editing it. please do the both of us a favor and refrain from telling me how you think certain elements are irrational because i am not asking for your critique and i really can't be bothered with all the negativity in the comments.
DON'T LIKE IT, DON'T READ IT. simple as that.

xx tay

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s c e n e  t w o :

i n d u r a t i z e

induratize (v.) • to make one's own heart hardened or resistant to someone's pleas or advances, or to the idea of love.

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I could see Peyton clutching his wrapped arm to his chest, releasing a shiver as he did so. And honestly, it was a precious moment, one you could probably never get used to seeing from the high school soccer captain. Especially now in his cold and intense state. I had my suspicions, but none of them seemed realistic enough to apply to him ― no, he did not have a mysterious cousin from Arkansas whose visits to Seattle caused mood shifts in him, nor was his father suffering from a bad investment on a star that he couldn't find in the sky anymore. Maybe it was because realistically, I couldn't fathom things that didn't apply to me. Of course, it wasn't my father who was suffering for he was always business smart, but instead, it was the father of a dear friend of mine whose affairs weren't in order.

But in the simplest sense, neither were ours. We were two crossing universes, trying not to overlap and cause damages. But I'd already knocked two of his planets out of orbit while he disrupted my revolution around the sun.

We were pulling into the gas station parking lot now, the overhead lights shining down into the car and I could suddenly see everything in a new light. I could see that the frown on his face had softened, still a frown but not as deadly. He looked annoyed as far as I could tell. I noticed how my blouse had been bled through, a disgusting brownish color with an equally bad smell. And then I noticed something quite peculiar about him, making me gasp in surprise.
"You have two different colored eyes," I said, a bit too loudly, my wonderment clearly showing. I felt like a child, but I was quite surprised. Three years of classes with him and I just noticed that about him. What else did I not know about Peyton Evers?

I must've taken him aback, his eyes widening to show their colors: one was hazel, the other one was a more subdued grey that was harder to notice. I only realized it because we had drove under fluorescent lights that were probably measured in megawatts, many leagues brighter than the average light bulbs in our school classrooms. Or maybe this was the first time we had been close enough in a low-action moment.

"I can't believe you never noticed that," he quipped, in just the way I expected him to do in my head. "So you can take back your frustration about me forgetting your birthday."

As much as I deserved that, I wasn't going to let his insult stand. This was completely different than me not constantly looking into his eyes. I wasn't that attracted to him.

"Okay, just don't get mad when I forget to bring you a brownie," I said, pulling up alongside the pump. "Stay here, I'll pump the gas."

I closed the door and put on the lock before he could respond to what I said about the cupcakes. He was honestly making it too hard to feel guilty. Sure, I did break his motorcycle and sure, I did cause him to skin his arm, but anyone else could've done that and here I was trying to get downtown in the middle of a storm on his behalf. He at least owed me some gratitude.