Test Drives ✓

v. licnobio

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

════════════════

s c e n e  f i v e :  

l i c n o b i o

licnobio (adj.) • describes a person who performs most activities at night, with artificial light, and sleeps during the day

════════════════

I honestly, desperately, hopelessly wished that this would last forever. I had no idea why or no idea about anything at this point except that Peyton Evers was sitting right beside me, thinking all of the same things. And that was a good thing, a very comforting feeling.

All was peaceful, with soft breaths escaping our lips and the pitter patter of rain on the hood and windshield of the car being the only sounds between us. Every now and then, Peyton would sigh or groan, which was in his nature so therefore part of the ecosystem of this car.

The only thing that was intrusive of the thin balance we had established was the occasional sliding of the motorcycle in the back. Peyton could've been lying in the back, had I not been forced to collapse the back row of seats to slide his bike in there. Whenever the car jerked forward ― something that had been happening a lot lately ― I could feel the motorcycle slam against the back of one of our seats.

But all in all, we were stagnant. There were no shaky tides or daunting currents, just deep and still water. Maybe a few rocks were poking out from the surface ― Peyton was still angry if the downward curl of his lips were any indication, just more manageable now.

I didn't like that, the thought that an hour had passed since we left the gas station and yet we made no progress making me antsy. "What's wrong with you," I aawasked, hoping he wouldn't reference the things I had caused for I was aware of those, I hoped he would at least be able to confide in me. "You've been quite down all day?"

"Well, for starters," he said and I knew just would happen, "my motorcycle is broken and I have a arm wound that is seriously risking infection ―"

"No," I said, effectively cutting him off, "I mean besides that. You've obviously been pissed for longer than the accident. We have our calculus class together and the fact that you didn't answer all of the questions like a goody two shoes today stood out to me. You're not as subtle as you think you are."

"Or maybe I am and you were too busy trying to perform a psychoanalysis on me," he said accusingly. In that moment, his defenses had shot up high and hard, the notion of his mental state being brought up being a touchy subject for him. He didn't seem hostile, but I could see the paradigm shift from the weak and sleepy Peyton Evers to the current him like it had exploded in front of my face.

"I'm not psychoanalyzing you," I cried indignantly, my defense system awakened and kicking in as well. "We were only a few seats away from each other today." That was the abridged version of it, I wasn't telling him about how I could feel the storm clouds emanate from off of him.

"Tell me, Karis," he said, with humor in his voice but it had a malicious edge to it that made me stiffen. "Do you even like me?"

It was the walls I set up that said a swift, "no. No I don't." I mean, he was attractive, so much that it wasn't fair, and we were compatible according to the major system, but no, I wasn't into him ― or well, I didn't want to be.