*May or may not contain grammar mistakes
Word Count: 5,226
Garrett wasn't as macho as he appeared. He drove a convertible for crying out loud! All white at that, with the letters G-R-R tatted on his license plate. He had a pair of beaded necklaces wrapped around his rear-view mirror with heart shaped charms attached at the ends. And he didn't give a fuck to be caught, rolling around with an entire playlist conducted of Taylor Swift songs.
When I first stepped foot in his car, he laid out the rules on the dashboard. Literally, on the dashboard, he had a white sheet with printed words in bold, exaggerating the love between man and car.
"Rule number one, no smoking," He said, nonchalantly going down the list of rules, one hand crossed on the steering wheel and the other fondling the gear. I could not contain rolling my eyes and replying the obvious.
"Well, I can't help that, now can I?" I asked, arrogantly. Garrett sighed, probably because he knew where I was leading. I unbuttoned the first two buttons of my shirt and sat my butt on the leather passenger seat. I leaned over the armrest, whispering hotly, "I'm just sooo smoking hot."
Garrett shoved his hand in my face, "Sorry, but I don't flirt with Tinker Bells."
"And I don't flirt with Wanker Bells." I slapped his hand away before slamming the passenger door shut, causing Garrett to cringe and glare at me.
"Rule number two, don't slam my door." He gritted through bared teeth, annoyed.
"Garrett, I hate to break it to you," I said, disinterested in small talk. I was too busy pressing buttons. "But, I don't follow rules. So there's no point in telling me this over and over."
He shook his head in utter disbelief. "I knew this was a bad idea. Remind me, why am I helping you again?"
"Because we're besties!" I squealed like a little girl, clasping my hands together in awe and grinning like a maniac.
"Look," He pointed, "What the fuck are we supposed to be doing anyway?"
"Well, first off, let's get something to eat." I crinkled my nose and clenched my growling stomach.
Garrett instantly showed signs of resistance and I knew what was coming. I may've rolled my eyes four the twelfth time since being in his car, listening to him rant about this not being some 'gay date'. Instead of retaliating with some witty comment, I let him rant until his own stomach was growling and we were pulling through the drive thru with four burgers and two milkshakes.
"Dude, like seriously, don't drop anything in my car," He said through a mouthful of unrecognized meat and other ingredients.
"Doesn't your mom tell you to eat before you speak?" I grumbled, cringing at the mayonnaise stuck in the corner of his mouth.
Garrett took awhile to reply, barely managing to swallow the food in his overly packed mouth. He crumbled the burger wrapper into a ball and tossed it into bag it came in.
"My mother's gone." He bluntly put it as we reached a traffic light.
Oh, dick move Lane. Talk about Garrett's dead mother.
"Speaking of mothers..." I tried to change the subject. "You're one lucky motherfucker, look at this car, man!" I ran my hand over the interior, whistling while doing so.
Garrett grunted. "Beats driving around in a torn up, old, dusty ass Mustang. Did I mention you have a huge dent and a busted bumper?"