tired yet? ||cashby||

Chapter 10

For a few more hours, we just sat in my room and cheated at cards. The sad part was that Michael hadn't even noticed that I pretty much stole his friend for the night. He was busy hitting on Sophie's classmates, and I wasn't quite sure why he invited Austin, exactly. In any event, I was just happy to have him there with me. Something about the way he spoke soothed my worries. He was wearing me down bit by bit, like a block of wood being sanded. Little daytime problems disappeared when we were together, and I didn't think that was something I'd ever want to let go of. When your whole life is comprised of trivial, grating things, you tend to cling to treasure when it finds it's way into your life.

So we just sat together talking and being idiots, but in a fun way. I had no idea what was on for tonight, but I was so ready to get out of the house.
At around 11:45, the house pretty much cleared out, and Austin left so Michael wouldn't think he had disappeared or anything. Excited and happy, we waited until my brother fell asleep, then crept up the stairs.

Sneaking around with Austin didn't make me feel guilty at all, actually. Because I knew he was better than them in so many ways. He made me feel good about myself. The kitchen was dark, so I felt my way to the door, Austin following, and slipped outside into the blackness. He inched the door shut, and we high-fived once it was closed. Giddy, we ran out to his car.

"Let's go rollerblading," I said, and he looked over at me.

"And then ice cream," he added, grinning. The camera hung around my neck by the straps, bouncing against my chest as I got into the passenger seat. "You wanna drive?" he offered.

"No thanks," I was still wary of it, because we both knew I wasn't the greatest driver. He jingled the keys and grinned.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged, getting in and starting the car. Our bodies felt warm, and the breath in my throat was strained. His lips moved as he spoke, but all I could understand was way they pressed together, pulled apart, smiled. Entranced, I only tried to tear my eyes away from his glorious form.

"I'm not awesome at rollerblading," he mentioned.

"You're good at everything," I protested, looking out the window at the streetlights that passed us by. They were so blurry, little smears of yellow amongst the black.

"That's not true," he grinned.

"I think it is," I argued.

"You're so stubborn." He rolled his eyes.

"No, I'm not," I said, just for the hell of it. His amused look darted over to me, taking in my arms folded over my chest in a closed-off, stubborn way. Quickly, he brushed under my chin with his thumb, a fleeting and oddly intimate gesture. Feelings swelled in my chest, and I grinned. Big, emotional words flowed in my mouth, swirling around and begging to be set free. Utterly aware of how that would go, I clamped my lips together, just content with his friendly touches and words.

"Whatever," I mumbled happily, trying to seem chill.

"What did you dream about last night?" he asked randomly. I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Why?" I chuckled. His mind was so scattered at times.

"I wanna see if we have a psychic connection," he said, laughing at my confusion. I was unsure how serious he was, but answered anyways.

"I don't really have dreams." I shrugged. His expression was pitying.

"That sucks," he said, genuinely sorry. "I dream about all kinds of weird stuff."

"Like what?" I indulged, feeling warm in the darkness. The headlights cast an alien bright glow on the road ahead of us, and my eyes followed as it skimmed over each rock of the street surface. He averted his eyes, driving with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the center console.