"Where do you see yourself in twenty years?" Taylor spoke up beside me, glancing at me repeatedly through the corner of his chocolate brown eyes. He was clad in dark-washed jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a soft-from-age (it was his father's) black leather jacket enveloped his shoulders. His feet were adorned with Nike high tops in the red and black colors. His brown hair was pushed up off of his forehead today, and I have to say that with that haircut, he looks amazing.
I travel my eyes down his arm and to his hand, to which he had the wrist of his left hand resting comfortably on the top of the wheel. He was concentrating - adorably so - on driving, his jaw clenched but also making conversation with me.
He wasn't one who had the ability to multitask, even though he was doing an awesome job right now. I always have difficulty getting my boyfriend to concentrate on anything other than myself when I'm in the room. He's almost like the child of the Greek god Hephaestus: always needs to keep something in his hands or keep them busy. In this case, it's the steering wheel of his jet black Lamborghini. It was a gift from his grandparents for his 17th birthday. He's the only kid I know who owns a Lamborghini.
The interior of said car was black and the outline of the dashboard, seat seams, and speedometer needle were red.
"I guess I see myself working in a huge business or something. I don't really have a plan, even though I should because it is my junior year." I answered as truthfully as I could, and he seemed satisfied with my answer because he blinked slowly and then smiled. He's intelligent, but he has days where he's no smarter than an average crayon, but other days he trumps me in the intelligence department.
He doesn't say anything but he just slightly tightens his slender fingers around the leather steering wheel. It just started to rain and he becomes a zoned-in defensive driver when the weather decides to take a turn for the worst.
A plethora of rain drops were pelting the roof of the car in huge drops that left splatters. It made me wince and sink further into the bottom of the passenger seat. I hate huge rain like this because I can't see anything within a ten foot radius outside of the windshield. The sky outside was gloomy and dark, making me think of a dementor from Harry Potter.
Taylor's knuckles were white as they wrapped around the steering wheel. I clenched the seat belt tighter that formed from my shoulder to the left corner of my waist. I wasn't scared that he was driving; I trust him, but I don't like anyone driving in the blinding rain, especially myself.
My gut clenched, meaning that something didn't feel or look right. This feeling usually signified that my instincts were going to kick in because something was going to happen.
And it did.
The car came from the opposite side of the roadway out of nowhere. Everything felt like we were going through molasses in the heat of the summer.
The bright red car was traveling towards us at a speed that should alarm anyone, but we couldn't say anything.
Taylor tried to force his car to swerve to the other side, away from the dangers of the oncoming car, but we couldn't do anything. The rain built up on the road and our tires lost traction. The scream got caught in my throat but I reached for Taylor's hand on an impulse.
"I love you." I said, my voice shaking and reflecting my gut. He squeezed my hand and repeated those same words as the oncoming car sped towards us. I felt helpless; like death was imminent.
I squeezed my eyes shut before the red car made contact.
My eyes fly open in alarm, and I tangle myself in my blue sheets from all of the thrashing I experienced during the flashback. My heart is beating erratically against my rib cage and my hair is matted down with sweat. A sob lodges itself in my throat and I spring up. I can still see the headlights illuminate behind my eyelids into the inky black darkness of my room every time I blink and I try to shake the dream off, but to no avail.
