After Midnight (a.i.)

37

Cool wind combs through my hair and chills my perspired skin, my head held by my arm that was rested on the passenger door. The usual buildings and signs pass us by as we cruised through town, further and further until they became less familiar. Eventually, the local businesses and large structures were replaced with leafy greens of the tree line that hung below the sky that was baby blue.

Music crackled softly through the speakers of the old Pontiac, the only sound that threatened to spill between the two of us. Stuck on the usual radio station he left it at, I'm assuming, that played decades old songs only he would recognize.  The soft strum of guitar broke through the comfortable silence that flooded the car, with him focused on our destination and me wondering where the hell he was taking us.

I asked him a couple of times where we were headed, but he gave me the same answer that I couldn't argue with.

"Does it really matter?"

And it didn't. It never did. I was fully content listening to his favorite songs, with my head rested to look out the window and his warm hand spread over my thigh, removing itself every time he needed to shift gears.

After learning so much about his past with his uncle and this car, it was almost impossible not to find the beauty in the vintage vehicle. With the sentimental value and happy memories that came with it, and how much it truly meant to Ashton, it made me acknowledge how beautiful this car really was. And the old black patch of Tom's Auto that still clung to the dash with integrity made much more sense with the added backstory.

I let out a sigh of content while I lose myself in my thoughts, tilting my head to look to the man next to me, almost curious if he's as relaxed as I am. It appears that he is, his arm stretched to rest on the steering wheel as he maneuvers his way down the road, lips pursed around the lit cigarette in his mouth. His eyes are soft as they focus ahead of us, shifting to glance at each car and sign that we pass while his fingers drum against the steering wheel. His usually hardened features are relaxed, his eyebrows somewhat furrowed with focus and his jaw loosened with each steady breath he takes.

He took the opportunity to change after he carried me into the house, once Nova interrupted our tangled session on the couch with a dramatic disgust. Ashton rolled his eyes with an irritated scowl and stalked up to his room once we were no longer alone, leaving me in the living room with Nova and blushed cheeks fueled by embarrassment.

Nova and I chatted for a bit during his absence; she took the time to bitch about one of her clients of the day that was shaking like a rabid dog while getting his rib cage worked on.

"I almost had to refuse service, it was that bad." She rolled her eyes while she scrolled through her phone, sat right beside me on the couch I was previously laying on. "I mean, it's a rib cage. No shit it's going to hurt."

I nodded along with her story, amused with the vulgar way she describes things until she excused herself for a shower, bitching under her breath her entire way up the stairs. Ashton met her halfway on his way down, quickly listening to the same story with less patience than he ever had before finally returning to the living room with a fresh outfit and his keys dangling between his fingers.

I could've cursed him out, I still should, the second he walked down the stairs and beckoned me to follow him to the car. My legs unenthusiastically carried me off of the couch once my eyes landed on his usual black outfit. His legs were hugged by his typical black jeans and boots, but he looked more dressed up than usual. A tight white tank was tucked into his jeans, showing off the slick leather belt that wrapped around his waist with pride. A black button down that almost looked like a shop shirt clung to his broad shoulders with each button undone to expose the white tank and his prominent collarbones underneath. For a man that religiously wore black everyday of his life, he knew damn well how to wear it.