Flawed

"And you payed how much money for this old piece of crap?" I asked Adrian, breathless

He passed a quick smirk in my direction before returning his eyes where it belonged.. His hand, the one on the gear, crawled its way towards the dashboard. Caressing it like a gentle petal, notifying every curve as it made contact with it. His tips tentative as he fingered the beige leather that covered his steering wheel.

The hell? I thought, pursing my lips as I waited for his next move. 

The guy was looking at it like a lovestruck thirteen year old and not some fully matured, almost an adult, seventeen year old boy. I knew that men or mentally impaired  beings(whatever they’re called) loved their cars like their kids. Treated them much better than there girlfriends as well but did it justify his need to sigh like a hormone driven, sex crazed teenager in love? I don’t think so. Memories of yesterday crashed upon me and I blushed as I remembered that not too long ago I was the one who acted like they were smitten by a car. When It wasn't even my car to begin with.

" Old's gold, honey. Try to keep that one locked inside that brain of yours" He said, smirking, finding the need to knock on my forehead as he said those words.

I subdued the need to slap them away, quenching the itch of my hands by rubbing circles onto my forehead. If douchebaggery was a sport, he would have won gold. But I was afraid, he had already claimed that prize long ago. Right now, he was plainly getting on my nerves. 

If it weren't for him, I'd be happily in bed, curled up in my blue comforter while I sipped some hot chocolate. But no, Adrian had to, absolutely had to, drag me to the ice-cream parlour at 10 am in the morning.

For Ice-cream. In the morning.

Honestly, I'd never felt the need to give up on dessert.(it was sugar. Period) but if that meant passing the opportunity to 'have a chat' as Adrian put it, with Amanda, then be it. It wasn't as if I didn't want to make up and restore everything to its normal pace, it was the fact that I needed some time off to think if I was sure about that very decision. (In my defence, I had a rather 'eventful' thirty six hours)

"Okay, lets go over the plan once again." Adrian said, unbuckling his belt.

It was then that I realised that we'd made it to 'Wendy's' which was, at the moment, deserted. Well, at least the parking was. But I was sure no soul was loony enough to get out of bed this early to have some ice-cream to please their sweet tooth. Still, It was certifiable that more then five people would joining us in our antics. The amount of jobless people in this world never seized to amaze me.I felt bile rising in my throat as I scanned the parking lot, searching for an escape other than the one way ticket to hell that faced me.

The isolated space made my blood run cold. The level of claustrophobia was unfathomable and the feeling of being singled out made me want to pull my hair out when I caught no escape to the security of normalcy, but rather an old, worn looking elevator that transported us from the basement and back to the ground level. 

This is too much. I can't go and meet her! She obviously was enthralled by the idea(it was her's to start with) It wouldn’t be a surprise if she was already seated with a mint chocolate chip cone, patiently waiting for us to make an entrance. Adrian, if his urgency to get here was any sort of a  give away, was awaiting the moment he could see her since his feelings obliged him to act like a giddy pre-schooler. He was ecstatic to have a chance to talk to her, I on the other hand would rather prefer being stabbed multiple times with a pencil and then being mummified.

OK, so maybe I was exaggerating a bit(a lot), yet it proved my urge to run off nonetheless. I was never good with pressure. Outrageous acts were never on my radar yet, in that one horrific moment, I felt compelled to literally, throw myself out the window.

Fantastic, I was turning into a complete nut case.

Sighing, I turned my head towards Adrian, with what I thought was a horrible attempt at a puppy dog slash ‘have pity on my soul’  face. All hope was lost, I might as well try my hand at some very cliched, over done moves of convincing and manipulating boys. It was almost a given in every book and show anyway, It had to be there for a reason. I suppose It must work. Either that or people have some sick, out of the ordinary fetishes.