The Boy That Hates Books

Gasoline

"I can now say with confidence that I have no idea where we are."

The roads we drove down were unfamiliar, and instead of leaving Gravelstone Drive and heading back from where we came from, we continued to drive into the unknown. There was something thrilling about not knowing where you are going to end up or if you'll even be able to find your way back. We felt like we had the world at our feet.

It was exhilarating.

Wind whipped hair across my face, the bitter air making blood rush to my cheeks. I breathed in deeply, wanting to capture every rush of fresh air that burst into the truck. We'd cut the radio off this time, basking in our own silence, and I watched his eyes flicker from me to the road and back again.

There were no streetlights guiding us, only the haze of the moon and the headlights spilling lazily out onto the road. Miles pressed his foot down, causing the truck to jolt forwards and the purr of the engine to turn to a growl. I felt it in my core as I hung one hand out of the window, fingertips icy cold.

An unusual smell masked my senses, mixed with damp wood and honeysuckle. My eyes scored the heights of the trees, so tall that they seemed to be reaching for the sky. There was something haunting about them — almost precarious — but we were untouchable as we sped down the unoccupied roads, weaving in and out of oblivion.

Miles' fingers clasped tight around the wheel, veins in his arm popping. Running one hand through his hair, he bit his lip in thought. His hair was almost platinum now, the brown streaks having faded since he'd had a shower back at the motel. He was fresh faced, eyes shining, and he smelt like lemonade.

"Do you want any food?" I asked, unclipping the seatbelt and leaning over into the back. I grabbed the duffel bag with one finger, hoisting it up onto my lap.

"Yes, yes, yes a thousand times over," his face lit up, "I'm starving."

"How are you starving? We just ate."

I licked my lips, savouring the taste of the cheese toastie my dad had made us before we left. Just the thought of the melted cheese and crisp bread slathered in butter made my mouth water. He used to make them a lot when I was younger, since he had no time to make anything else, but they tasted amazing all the same.

"Driving is a hungry job Kirsten," he thankfully swiped the bag of crisps from my hands before pausing to look at me. Quickly, he leaned in and placed a kiss to my head, so light that I almost didn't notice he'd done it.

I shivered, heart racing. His random bursts of affection had become a regular thing now, but every time our skin touched it felt like a lighting bolt had stuck through me. I didn't think I'd ever get used to his hand in my hand, his lips on mine, because every time we embraced, every time our breaths collided, I felt myself swooning over him in a ridiculous way. He left me dumbfounded. Breathless. But most of all, he left me wanting more.

The shrill sound of a phone ringing made me jump as I lifted a bottle of water up to my lips, causing the cool water to spill out onto my chin. I fumbled for my phone in the back pocket of my jeans, goosebumps beginning to pool out over my skin. I knew who it was before I even answered.

"Kirsten?" her voice was hoarse, grating at the edges, "Is that you?"

I swallowed, taking a deep breath before I choked out a simple, "Yes."

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" I could hear the aching worry in her voice, the watery overtone that made it hard to hear what she was saying.

"What? Yes mum, I'm fine." I couldn't hide the irritation that seeped through, and I flinched as soon as I heard it. Because words are dangerous. Once they're said there is no taking them back.