Forces of Nature

Goodbye For Now

I hit speed dial and waited. When I was greeted with his answering machine I almost snapped the phone in half. I was so pissed. Call me when you need a ride home. Yeah, right. That lousy, good for nothing, stupid ass! I left him a very long voice message and hung up. I don't think I've ever sworn so much in my life. Surprisingly, I felt a little better. Maybe I should ring back and leave another one. I was about to push the call button when someone cleared their throat behind me. I whipped around. Oh, my god. It was Tyson, leaning on the hospital wall, smoking. Something told me he'd witnessed my hysterical phone call.

"Have you been standing there that whole time?"

"Yep." Suspicions confirmed, I cringed inwardly. How was it I kept embarrassing myself in front of this guy. And what was he even still doing here? Wait a minute.

"Were you waiting for me?"

His trademark scowl appeared.

"No."

Of course not. I huffed in aggravation. I didn't have time for his attitude right now. I needed to find a way home. I figured I had enough cash for a taxi and reached into my jeans pocket for my wallet. It wasn't there. I patted myself down searching for it, before groaning. I'd left it in Aidan's car. Craptastic. Just freaking craptastic. Now what was I going to do?

"So, your boyfriend's not coming to get you?" he asked, taking a long drag on his smoke.

"Ex boyfriend. And no, he's not."

"So you need a ride then." It wasn't a question, and I wasn't sure if he was offering or not so I stayed quiet.

"Come on. My car's this way." He flicked his smoke onto the ground and stubbed it out with the toe of his boot before heading to the main car park. Even though he was limping, I had to power walk to keep up. He must have been around six foot one, six foot two inches tall. My poor five foot five frame was struggling to keep pace.

"I thought you said you weren't waiting for me."

"I wasn't."

"Then what were you doing here?"

We came to a stop in front of a sleek black Ford Mustang. It was one of the older, classic models too. Tyson clicked the button on his key ring to unlock it. Well, someone had obviously tinkered with it to make it more modern. I didn't remember classic cars having central locking.

"Do you always ask this many questions?" he muttered, getting in the drivers side. I stifled a smile. He'd avoided the question. So he had been waiting for me. Strangely, that thought sent a wave of butterflies through my stomach.

"Are you getting in?" he snapped impatiently.

"Yeah, yeah. No need to get your panties in a bunch." I slid into the passenger seat and gave him my address.

The ride to my house was, awkward to say the least. An uncomfortable silence settled in the second we hit the freeway, and with the stereo turned off there wasn't even music to fill the void.

After a few minutes of deafening silence Tyson wound down his window and pulled a cigarette free from a pack in the centre piece. He put it in his mouth and reached back down for a lighter. I tsked at him.

"You're not going to light that, are you?"

His eyes narrowed and his hand stopped halfway to his lighter.

"Why? You have a problem with that?"

Yes, I did. It may have been his car, and he may have been generous enough to offer me a ride home. But there was no way I was sitting in this car while he smoked. I hated the stink cigarettes gave off. I couldn't imagine why anyone would want to inhale smoke directly. It was bad enough second hand.

"Yeah, I do. I don't want to die of second hand smoke."

He gave me a droll stare before returning his attention to the road. "One cig isn't going to kill you, you know."

"I don't care. It all adds up." I continued to glare at him until he sighed in frustration.

"Fine," he said, pulling it from his mouth and dropping it in the centre piece.

"You shouldn't be smoking anyway. How old are you? Seventeen? Eighteen?"

I don't even know why it bothered me so much that he smoked. Yeah, I'd never liked people that smoked. But for some reason, his smoking was like a personal affront to me.

"Don't even go there. If I want to die early, that's my prerogative."

With that said we fell back into another uncomfortable silence.

Tyson pulled up to my house twenty minutes later and killed the engine.

"Um, thanks for the ride." I stammered, clumsily unbuckling my seatbelt.

"Yeah, sure."

He rubbed his hands down his face, as if staving off sleep. I had to stifle a yawn myself. It had definitely been a long night.

"I um, guess I'll be going now."

"Right."

I climbed out of his car awkwardly, careful not to jostle my injured hand. Hanging on to the door I leaned down so we were face level.

"Thanks for everything, Tyson."

He nodded and started the car, clearly eager for me to shut the door so he could leave. I sighed heavily and obliged. God that guy was the moodiest person I'd ever met. And one of few words at that. So aggravating! Yet as he drove off down the street without another word, I got that same twinge of sadness at his departure that I had in the hospital.

"Goodbye," I whispered.