Nowhere Girl | The Darkest Minds Fanfic

Two of Us

We hit the road ten minutes later. Before our departure, Ang shoved a bag of 'essentials' into my backpack and wished me good luck.

　　It wasn't until the sight of the Deck disappeared from the rearview mirror, did I truly grasped the reality: I'm alone, with Cole Stewart.

　　Damn. I really didn't think this through.

　　I tried to make myself busy; I took out the bag of essentials Ang gave me, and found that there were a cell phone and some money in it. I put it in the glove box, and took out a map. As I was trying to read it, Cole stopped me.

　　"Don't fuss with that. I know where we're going." He said, and we fell back into silence.

　　We sat there awkwardly for ten minutes or so, until Cole obviously couldn't stand it anymore, and flipped the radio on. He fumbled with the nobs until the broadcast stopped at a country song.

　　"You like country music?" I tried to confirm. This is...surprising.

　　"Not just any country music. This is Lefty Frizzell." He said.

　　I tried to pay attention to the song, and see if it is as special as Cole's tone suggested. I came to a conclusion that it must be a classic, the kind that were so obviously out of date that the audio qualities were bad, but people still tolerate them because these were good songs.

　　This is a good song. Tender and nostalgic, despite the cheesiness. I once heard someone said that the kind of music you like molds the shape of your soul. Or was it the other way around? Anyway, if that's true, Cole's soul must be warmer and softer than he lets on right now.

　　"What kind of music do you like?" He asked, and I suddenly found the question extremely intimate.

　　"Beatles?" I answered. "I used to learn English by listening to their songs. And watching Friends."

　　He grinned at my words. "Never took you for a happy-go-lucky type of girl."

　　"Beatles aren't happy-go-lucky." I protested. "How are While My Guitar Gently Weeps and Yesterday happy-go-lucky? Eleanor Rigby? The Long and Windy Road?"

　　"Well, I am no Beatles scholars, but I'm pretty sure most of their love songs were so upbeat to the point that you'd get a headache by just listening to them." He said. "Liam had a Beatles period during 5th grade; I memorized probably half of their songs just by the sheer amount of replays that came through our bedroom wall."

　　"So you hate Beatles?" I asked without realizing, in a way, the real question was: do you hate my soul?

　　"No." He said, a small upward curve on the corner of his mouth. "I actually kind of like it. More than what Liam listened to later on, anyway."

　　So he doesn't hate my soul. That's good to hear.

　　"I like this song, too." I said.

　　"Great taste, Darlin'." He said with a deeper southern drawl than before, which made my spine go limp a little.

　　"Don't call me that." I protested weakly.

　　"Why not?"

　　"Because it's weird."

　　He let out a low chuckle. "You know, it is just the way we southerner call the ladies, a show of endearment."

　　"Well, I'm Japanese. If you call someone who is not your girlfriend or wife that in my country, you'll get sued for harassment."