Queen of the Headphone Zombies

Rhythm

EMERSON

She Sells Sanctuary // The Cult

We are going to die. Death. It might be a fiery crash, or maybe just an immediate death on impact situation where we're t-boned by an eighteen-wheeler. But I'm sure it's coming because Chelsea is a shitty driver.

"Slow down." I say the words calmly but feel nothing even close to calm. The turn she just took is so sharp my body just slammed into the door. Damn, we're gonna die. Why in the hell did I agree to let her drive?

"Relax, handsome. We're almost there." Chelsea sounds impatient. Not sure if that's an impatience with me, or just the world in general. It's hard to tell with her.

"And where exactly is there?" Zoe asks from the front passenger seat. I'm suddenly aware of Zoe's motivation for riding shotgun. At least she can anticipate some of Chelsea's more enthusiastic maneuvers and brace herself against the dashboard.

"Haha, wouldn't you like to know?" Chelsea smirks, rolling her shoulders in her faux fur jacket like she's prepping for a knockout move.

"Um, yeah," Zoe says, whipping her head in Chelsea's direction. "That's why I asked, genius. Where are we going?"

I decide to focus on Zoe, rather than my impending demise via blondie aka crazy thinks she is in a formula one race driver.

Zoe is fucking gorgeous.

Every. 

Single.

Day.

Zoe is especially breathtaking today with her hair pulled into a crazy knot at the back of her head. Those green tips are peeking out around the base of her neck. They are faded a bit now, but it's a good look. I liked the purple, but I'm really digging the green. She's wearing a vintage band t-shirt, her go-to style, paired with Doc Martins and tight white jeans. But the stop-my-heart addition to her wardrobe is a leather jacket, vintage and worn in just the right places. It's a look straight from the London punk scene that birthed the Sex Pistols. So incredible hot, is my girl.

Zoe's been playing DJ on our drive, so rather than a metaphorical playlist running in my mind as I look at her, which has been happening more frequently for me, there is actual music to accompany my observations. Her vintage look today compliments her playlist. She is currently pounding out The Cult.

I catch Zoe's eye in the rearview mirror and bam, the song captures my thoughts exactly. ...The sparkle in your eyes...Her eyes actually sparkle when she looks at me. Which, no joke, makes my heart speed faster than the insane girl behind the wheel. ...keeps me alive...It might just be Zoe that's keeping me alive this very minute as she grabs the wheel, helping Chelsea complete a right turn into a parking lot at breakneck speed.

"What the fu-" I can't even complete the expletive as Chelsea screeches into a parking spot and slams on the breaks, forcing my face into the headrest in front of me.

"Shit! Chelsea!" Zoe grabs the keys still in the ignition and kills the engine then pockets the keys. "Okay, girl, you are cut off today. No more driving for you."

Chelsea looks at the two of us and rolls her eyes. "Whatever. Be like that." She grabs her bedazzled pouch-purse thing and flings her door open. "Let's go!" Her words are shouted, once again impatient with the world around her and I have a feeling with Zoe and I. You can never think, speak, or move fast enough for Chelsea's taste. That girl has two speeds—dead stop and super revved.

I climb out of the car and then open the door and offer my hand to Zoe. I'm no fool, girls dig those gentlemen manners.  Once out of the car we look around and see Chelsea as she clomps ahead of us into a row of industrial warehouse type buildings. She doesn't even look behind her before over her shoulder, "Put some effort into it, people. We have a lot of work to do!"