After Hours (boyxboy) | ✓

Chapter Seven

“You watched me.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did.”

I pulled the sweatshirt on and dropped the topic. The smell of his cologne surrounded me. The hoodie was just like mine, but it felt warmer and smelled like him. I wished I could keep it. 

“Cozy?” He winked. 

I shook my head. My cheeks felt hot and I knew I was blushing. “Nope. You?”

He shrugged, then gestured to the CDs. I looked through them, reading each album name. He turned the keys and started the car. Rain poured out of the sky. It seemed like it would never end. I picked a random case and took the CD out. He pushed a button and another disc came out of the slot. I took it and put the new album in. 

“Mind if I make a quick stop somewhere?” he asked, squinting at the windshield.

“Sure,” I answered. It was nice in his car. It was dry and safe, unlike outside. Lightning flashed far away and I stared out my window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the next bolt. 

I glanced at Brendon and watched his mouth move with the lyrics. He knew every word and every note. And judging by the amount of CDs he had, I could tell he listened to music often. Either that or he drove a lot. I watched his fingers gently tapping on the steering wheel. It reminded me of my dad, who was constantly drumming, whether on the dashboard or on the kitchen counters. He removed one hand to turn on the turning signal. His movements were effortless and smooth, like he’d done them a thousand times before. And maybe he had.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I realised where we were. It was practically the other side of town.

He shrugged. “You like sushi?”  

“Yes,” I blurted out. No one ever got sushi with me. As far as I knew, he was the only person in the country who even liked it.

He smiled easily. “Good. Me too.”

I watched the roads pass us (or rather us pass the roads). He turned down a road, leading us downtown. We didn’t stay for long. He turned up a steep hill, then into a small, empty parking lot. There was a building next to it, which I assumed was the sushi place. Either that, or he was going to murder me here.

“Welp.” He patted the steering wheel and turned the car off. “Here we are.”

I nodded. “Cool.”

“May I take your order?”

“Yes,” I laughed, “I’ll—”

“Wait, lemme write this down.” He reached across me, opening the glovebox. In it were polaroids, more CDs, five different colored pens, several receipts, and a pad of paper. He took the paper, then a blue pen, then closed the compartment and sat back down. 

“Can’t you just use your phone?”

“Well I have to use my phone to call them,” he replied. 

“Oh,” I said.

“What’ll it be?”

“What’re you having?”

“I dunno yet.”

“Oh. I guess…” I thought for a moment, scratching the back of my head. “Do they have any eel?”

He gasped. “You want eel?” Oh no. He didn’t like eel. Now he’d probably drop me at the side of the road and never speak to me again.

“Yes…?”