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16 Phantom

[New cover attached. I hope you like it.]

i think you've given up and want a reason to hate me.

They're waiting for a pick-up truck.

There's a boot on Joey's car's left, front wheel and a ticket on the windshield. She swore she didn't illegally park her car in front of a fire hydrant. Harry really wanted to believe her but the memory of accidentally bumping the passenger side door into the thick metal was still fresh in his mind.

"Someone obviously moved the car up a few meters," Harry told her, hiding his smile with the knuckles of his hands. She was a fuming mess, complaining about how bad her credit was going to be by the end of the month. She threatened to take the case to court and get the justice she thought she deserved. Harry talked her out of it, but didn't mention the reason. Getting a ticket was justice.

"Some people just pick on the underdogs," she said under her breath. The sound of her heels against the cement made his lips drop. It seemed to be growing distant. "Sorry government ruined your birthday."

"Are you going somewhere?" He asked, dropping his head to his shoulder and slumping forward a little. He was twenty four years old now, yet he still felt like a child and being left alone at night was always frightening.

"Gas station across the street," she answered. He could tell she had stopped walking, and followed where her voice had been. Harry took small steps forward, knuckling at his eyes until a voice pulled him back. "If you're tired, you can hop in the back seat and I'll wait for the guy to get here."

"No, I'm fine," he promised, locking her arm around his slowly. She led them both to the small building. Harry scowled at the strong scent of gasoline before emerging through the open doorway of the nearly dark room. He could only see dull aches of white as they struggled to barely reach his eyes. "What are you getting?" He whispered against her ear.

"Beer," she answered just as quiet, pulling him with her. "Would you like a bottle?"

"Beer," he repeated, holding out a hand to brush his fingers against the cold, refrigerated glass. He wondered how cold the actual beverages would have been. "You're my drive home. I don't know how well this will end if you get drunk off of cheap beer."

"We're not getting that boot off any time soon, Harry. Have a drink with me while we wait, and we'll have the driver drop the car off in the driveway."

He thought about it for a moment before nodding his head.

Nearly five minutes later, they were drinking Budweiser and sitting on the curb outside of the gas station. His jacket was on her shoulders and his knees were at eye level, elbows resting on them as he licked his beer-coated lips.

"I'm a little tipsy," he admitted softly, dropping a hand to touch the wet cement on the ground. The liquid felt a little too thick to be water. "I think I just touched gas, fuck."

"Do you want a cigarette?" Joey asked him, nudging her shoulder against his playfully. She sounded different and he wondered if she looked any different. He brought a hand to the side of her face and pouted a bit before pushing her hair back. "What are you doing?"

"What color eyes do you have?" He asked.

"Does it matter?" She hiccuped gently, bringing a hand to his wrist and leaning into his touch. He didn't feel like finding out what that meant, and just pressed a small kiss to her lips.

"Tell me."

"Basic brown."

"The hazelnut kind? From one of the slides?"