Destined Love

Destined Love - Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Four:

You really do feel free and liberated when driving, like it's just you, your car and the open roads—nothing else. Just for a while, there's nothing but the wind in your hair and the beat of your engine—reality is but a distant memory; when you drive, it can become almost hypnotic, and when in that state, all seems right with the world. Driving back to the main town, I turn off the aging radio and listen to the hum of the motor and the faint whistle of the cool breeze as I roll down my window.

In this moment, with no specific destination in mind and no need to hurry back home, I travel down streets mindlessly, barely paying attention to where I am or where I'm going—because out there, outside of my truck, nothing seems important. I take side streets, I follow endless dirt tracks and empty back roads, until I find myself on a familiar path where I decide to head on home after an hour of blissful driving. Also due to the fact that this beast will run out of gas if I travel any longer.

The mighty sun hangs high up in the sky, its rays leading the way down a sharp bend that guides me passed the river front. Staring out at the water, the waves calm and the sun giving it an almost blazing orange hue, I almost do a double take as I catch sight of a girl sitting on a rock. With her red hair and the afternoon glow emphasising her pale skin, my right foot eases down onto the accelerator as I remember the order I gave myself during the week—stay away from Ariella until the weekend.

I want—need—to keep driving, but it's as if a hidden part of me won't allow it, and I find my foot slowly lifting from the accelerator and transferring to the break, where I edge my car to the side of the road and park along the fading grass. Temptation has overridden my will power, yet again. Plucking my keys from the ignition, I slowly step out of my truck and push the door shut with an oppressive sigh-almost-growl.

This is what Ariella does—tempts me unknowingly, forcing me to fail at following my own orders.

With a gentle pat of my truck's bonnet for being such a smooth ride, I slide my keys into my back pocket and saunter my way down the slightly crooked hill and closer to the river, where Ariella still sits, a German Shepherd by her side. At the soft crunch of sticks below my shoes, the dog's ears perk up as his large body twists to face me. It doesn't bark or make an attempt to attack me, he simply shuffles closer to Ariella's side with its round eyes on mine.

As I move closer, he gives Ariella a deep whine, as if he's her very own alert system. Holding my breath, she turns at an angle atop her rock, until her almost opaque ocean-coloured eyes connect with mine as I halt my steps. I swallow the built up ball of saliva in the back of my throat, that greets the knots now churning like wheels in the base of my stomach when I notice her heart-shaped lips twisted into a frown. The usual brightness to her alabaster skin has faded; she looks miserable and drained, the lines beside her lips deepening as if she hasn't smiled in awhile.

So as she turns back towards the water, I eye the spare space next to her, and before I can change my mind and head back to my truck like an uncomfortable lil' bitch, I sit down beside her. She moves over an inch in silence, to offer me more room, and as I hang my legs down the side of the rock, the German Shepherd switches sides and plops down against my knee. He nudges the edge of my leg with his big head, and he's none too gentle about it either.

Ariella's soft whisper directs my hand towards the dog. "He likes the back of his ears rubbed."

I weave my fingers through the German Shepherd's soft coat, easing my low-cut nails around one of his ears. His wide brown eyes slowly close shut, and his tongue lolls out the side of his mouth, as my fingers rub behind and around his floppy ears. His head leans at an angle as he contently soaks up the attention.