Ineffable

17 | THE BEACH AND THE METEOR SHOWERS

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Iris

"I hate you, but I don't really hate you but since I forgot my phone, I hate you."

Noah glances at me, before looking back at the road as he drives. "You are mildly sober, right now. The water helped-drink some more?"

Noah has been driving for twenty-one minutes and fifty-six seconds and he is dodging all of my questions about where we are going- idiot, I don't like him.

I scoff, looking outside through the window. "I will let you know that I have a high tolerance level-"

"You don't."

"-and it is not like the wine could have made me like whole assed drunk," I complete and give him a glare.

All he replies, smirking (not surprised, are we?), is "Pissed."

"It is drunk. We live in US. Not UK, where they call it being pissed," I pause for a beat. "Or so, I think? But whatever, do not call it being pissed."

He doesn't reply but his smirk says it all. I sit in such a position that I can see him drive. I am not trying to be subtle or even, a creep but... I stare at his profile as he drives.

I know he has a tanned-very light aureate skin and freckles just upon his nose, too little but still there.

With the help of the lights from the dashboard, I can see small neon sparkles in his eyes, contrasting with the amber, the bit crooked nose and the well-defined stubbled jawline with subtle cheekbones.

His umber hair just falling without fault on his forehead, hiding the scar-looks really soft and neat... but mainly soft.

I want to run my fingers through it.

I look away, quickly, as fast as blush starts to spread on my cheeks. That is just so... cliché but to make matters worse, he notices me blushing.

"You blush a lot."

"And you don't blush at all," I retort. "Do you wear contacts?" I blurt out, changing the topic.

Taken aback, he glances at me, confused. "... no."

"Why do you wear those specs, then?"

"They don't have much power and I wear them when I like to."

I consider it but I don't hold back when I say, "I like it when you wear them. They get a side of you that is not like a bad boy as everyone thinks."

He just nods with the habitual blank expression on his face.

He doesn't say anything back, again, and I look at him. He is such a contrast to me; I just can go on talking and he doesn't talk much-heck, he doesn't express much, either... but still, I feel there is a certain similarity between him and I.

Anyway, I am thankful for the distraction, right now and maybe-just maybe, I just like his company...

"Where are we going?" I ask him, after eight seconds.

"Somewhere," He answers, looking forward.

"Okay, where's the car going to stop?"

He doesn't delay answering, "Somewhere."

I groan out. "Look, we have been going on and on about this for seven times. Just tell me."

His lips lift up into a small smile. "Music?" He asks, dodging my question.