thirteen.
“You can’t be serious.”
“What?”
“You have Of Monsters and Men in your car all this freaking time and you didn’t bother telling me about it?”
“I didn’t know you’re a fan.”
“I’m not. I just like their music. And they’re Icelandics. You just gotta love them Icelandics, Jasper.”
Jade has dug in his dashboard out of boredom (again) and raised her eyebrows (again) at Jasper’s collection of punk/metal albums with cover arts Jade called “creepy and disturbing” but he prefers the term “fascinating and thought-provoking.” She has found something that held her interest (again).
They’re back on the road. Which means, by every passing minute, they’re getting closer to part ways. Mr. Frankie, the workshop owner, called Jade first thing in the morning regarding her car has finally been fixed, and she is to pick it up before 10A.M. today because, well, it’s Christmas’ Eve.
Last night, to Jasper’s own surprise, he’d fell into a few hours of deep sleep, and hell, it was the most peaceful sleep he’d had yet. No Max with a rope around his neck. No feet dangling. No sound of his own screams that rush the blood out of his ears. Just a deep, soundless sleep. He haven’t had such a sleep for nights after nights that he woke up today gasping, as if his nightmare-less sleep is a nightmare in the actuality.
Jade ejects a CD from the stereo and as she holds the disc with two fingers, she searches for the disc case. Scooting down to the door’s compartment under the window, Jasper tucked out a disc case and hands it out to her. He doesn’t have to look to know that she’s staring at the album cover art with creased eyebrows. It is five seconds too long that she chuckles lightly and takes the disc case from Jasper, whose hand falls to the gearstick almost as immediately. He smiles.
“I’m not going to ask about it,” she says.
“You sure?”
“Nope. I mean yeah, I am sure. Nope as in no, I’m not going to ask. Okay? Just. Ah. Whatever.” Putting the former disc back into its place, she inserts My Head Is Like An Animal, her fingers linger on the CD player.
With the soft tunes of Dirty Paws fills the space between them, her hand drops to her lap and she sighs a soft sigh. She leans back in her seat. She closes her eyes, and smiles. Her lips form words, but no sound comes out of her mouth. Her head sways and bobs to the rhythm. Jade Miller never seems failing to fascinate Jasper Haxon in the littlest of details and screws him up from the inside. If it isn’t for the road ahead and the car to drive, Jasper wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life looking at her like this.
He’s about to look away from her and take in a sharp breath when she peeks open an eye, her lips curled into a smile upon noticing him. Jasper made a show of ruffling his hair, as if he’s been outside and caught snow in his hair. Really, though, he’s just hiding his smile from her, because along with it was probably the light pink flushes of his cheeks, and he sure as hell can’t let her see that.
They’re on the second song when Jasper turns to her, the pink in his cheeks faded out. (At least he hopes to any God they have.) “Is this your favorite track in the album?”
She shrugs. “Is it yours?”
“How can one not like this?”
“Are you a fan of them? Or do you just have the album for impressing girls purposes?”
“How highly you think of me, Jade?”
“Very highly, probably?”
“You’re not losing this, are you?”
