Roofers.

18. To be free.

Scarlett POV.

I gripped the wheel of one of my mother's car's, relishing in that fresh car smell. The wind from the window came barrelling in, playing in Jules hair and almost succeeding to eradicate my edges from my pitiful existence. 

Jules sat with his eyes closed and a grin electric-sliding from cheek to cheek as "honesty" by pink sweats blasted through the car. We'd been driving for about an hour with no destination in mind or insight.

You see, this was an attempt at being an eccentric teenager. Driving without a care, not worrying about any of the consequences that would precede any of these actions. It felt weird, just doing this because we could. I was usually more calculated; more careful. We drove passed some trees, passed old abandoned homes, passed diners and biker bars, passed places I hadn't seen in years. 

The sense of nostalgia weighed thick in my lungs. These places were once second nature to me... At least they were when Rico was around. It had been so long since I'd been here; down this road.  And everything had changed; nothing was the same. It was all so different, and I felt lost. I felt kind of bitter too.  All these places had moved on from me, moved on from him. It left no evidence that we ever roamed those streets in the first place.

It was as if things had flipped right over; it was all the same but also different somehow. Like Lenny's diner used to have bright flickering pink neons and peeling salmon coloured walls, but now they were turquoise and brand new. The tattoo parlour a block down had been converted to a dusty motel, and they had converted the motel to a tattoo parlour. Perhaps I remembered it differently, perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps it was just different 'cause Rico wasn't there. Perhaps I just had a habit of romanticising things from the past.

We drove beneath the setting sun as the last of its light trickled into the darkening sky. Leaving us in the slow, confused haze between purple and orange and yellow and blue. Dusk was singing to us, singing melodies that sounded familiar, almost like a cover of someone else's music. Dare I say it sounded stolen, like it had been sung before.

"Where are we going?" Jules asked eventually, shifting his dreaming eyes from the sights outside the window to me.

"Does it matter?" I laughed, shifting part of my attention to the boy beside me. He was quiet for a bit, thinking deeply, lost within the many twisting and turning pathways of thought. His eyes glazed over and filled with starlight.

"I guess not," he shrugged. The car fell into an imposing silence that didn't belong there.

"You wanna play a game?" He asked eventually, filling the silence masterfully with his warm voice. His voice was deep, but not too deep. Soft, but not too soft. It was musical, but not overly so. It was calm and full of energy. It was smooth and gravelly. It was pretty. And I loved it.

"Sure?" I questioned.

"How about 21 questions, since you're driving?" He laughed at my slight confusion, making my cheeks catch fire.

"Yeah, okay," I replied.

"Me first then," He said as he thought about his question "What's your favourite colour?"

"That's so cliche" I cringed. 

"Answer the question." He whined, making me burst in laughter.

"I don't know, I don't really have one. Orange, no red maybe? What about you?" I asked.

"Can you guess?" He was sucking in his lips expectantly.

"Don't tell me..." I said, feigning a look of horror on my face. "It's blue, isn't it?"