Cigarettes and Butterflies (Incomplete)

Chapter 7: The Blonde Rescue

A/N: Editing is over and the new chapter is finally out! If you haven't already, I heavily suggest going back and re-reading the edited chapters, otherwise you may be a little confused. Now, this chapter may seem a bit short and pointless, but trust me when I say it's just as important as every other one! Please enjoy, happy reading my Starlings!

"Okay but hear me out. What if we listen to one more?"

I groan for the umpteenth time this hour, gingerly placing my fingers onto the bridge of my nose. "Kayla, if we listen to one more Meghan Trainor song, I'm going to throw myself out of this car."

Her eyes flick from the busy road to look at me. "Do you have me in your life insurance claim?"

"No. I don't think I even have life insurance."

"Then don't even think about it." Her attention focuses back onto the rapid traffic. "Play the damn song."

I click my tongue quietly.

To say I'm irritated is an understatement.

Reaching to my left, I lock my fingers around Kayla's phone, which was laying in the cars cupholder for some reason. Raising it to my face I look through the small slew of colorful app icons and click on a small green one with a half-hearted black Wi-Fi signal, then click on the double triangle "next" button. The small interior of the car is instantly filled with another peppy, girl power song about cheating men. I have to hold myself back from slamming my head repeatedly against the dash.

We've been on the road for an hour and I don't know how much longer I can take it.

Not even ten minutes after Brian had eaten, Kayla had slammed the door open to the house and declared that: "It's time to go shopping you depressing gay-wads.". Then, I had to explain an on the spot lie to her as to why my living room was in disrepair after she began screaming about a break in and/or a fight breaking out. Which then led her to asking about why Brian's arms were "fucked up" and me shoving her out of the door, Brian in tow. I told her that he had simply fallen and gotten bad rugburn. Thankfully, she believed both lies. After settling into her dark green Honda, me being in the passenger seat and Brian nervously wedging himself into the ripped-up backseat behind me, we began heading to our destination.

That Kayla won't tell me about.

I gently place her uncased phone back into the cupholder. "How much longer is this going to take, Kayla?"

She rolls her eyes. "Give it another five minutes, Grumpy Bear."

I roll my eyes right back at her. I flick my gaze up, so I can look into the rearview mirror and check on Brian, a habit I have seem to adopted in the past hour.

From what I can see, he's over all okay. His face is gently pressed against the glass of the window and his are eyes loosely shut for a light nap. Each of his arms are folded over each other, still keeping his lax appearance even in sleep. The light of the still rising sun reflects off of the streaks of blonde that are still nestled in his newly brushed brown locks. Every slight jump the car makes causes him to wiggle his nose in what could be annoyance, but he still remains asleep.

A small and unconscious huff whirls in my lungs.

"You're doing it again."

I look over to Kayla, her steely blue eyes concentrating on the road ahead. "Doing what?"

The corners of her lips turn up into a lazy smirk. "Staring at him. This is probably the third time in five minutes you've looked into the mirror to check on him."

"Yeah, he's still sick. I'm just making sure he's not getting nauseous or anything." I say blatantly. "And don't forget, you did force him into a situation that he's going to feel uncomfortable in. So I'm going to make sure he isn't freaking out."