The Flames In Mind

Ch. 5 // change of heart

"we've been living life, inside a b -"

Lowering the music for the time being, other than craving to trumpet it to the max because for one: it's one of my favorites and two: making the mood depressing isn't my goal. At least not with her head looking out the window like that. I take a sneak peek through the mirror. She's sitting in the backseat with a hallow look encasing those alluring green eyes. 

Her nimble fingers – giving my scalp tingles – are picking on the end of her tee indicating her nervousness. Trying not to look too long, I advert my gaze to the road ahead. Now I won't lie about the fact I know where we're going.

Because I have no idea what that place will be.

It may seem silly, although I thought a gut feeling and muscle memory could bring us the best destination possible. A couple of tricks up my sleeve could come in handy. 

Getting around Beverly wasn't a challenge; the little b***h wasn't even in the house. Or so I thought. I pegged her to be raiding my father's whiskey cabinet – proved right after hearing some glass clattering echoes through the house and her signature mischievous giggles before the black-haired beauty and I walked out of the house.

Her fault if she does it again. As crude as it may sound, half the time help isn't all needed and alone time is coveted. Bee and I sympathize on many levels when it comes to wanting solitude – often times it's pure aguish or boredom. 

I sigh lightly, the covers of my orbs threaten to drag down. I force them open and continue the song in my head, quietly humming to the imaginative lingering tune.

I take a glance at her green eyes again and an overwhelming feeling overtook the nerves of my hands and footing. Forcing them to navigate, I finally know where to go.

It's going to match those eyes.

I blink. Great. Within a few hours of contact was enough to trigger something strange instead of me. I breathe deeply as the last lyric has written itself and I speak thereafter.

"You might want to take a nap, girl. Going to be a long ride," With the annoying tone I try hard to hide in all my nice glory, I chime sweetly.

I hate people.

At least the moon isn't a waste of space.

*

Parking on the deserted rocky terrain blanketing throughout the presence of countless trees, I move friskily out of my car, shuddering from the slight cold of the night. Middle of the night, to be exact.

Typically, the drive takes an average of two hours long, regardless of so, it takes at least thirty minutes shorter since I come here too often to count. 

After shutting my door, I take a deep breath uncontrollably marveling – through the window – the grey-tipped haired beauty napping in my backseat. She's barely noticeable due to the tint but when I walk over to the other side, you can clearly see the scrunched button nose and wrinkles sporting that her milky complexion is disturbed by. 

Contemplating on rousing her from her slumber, I open the door and pull the seat forward. It creates a light shake and a soft click. My car has two doors, so the front seats have to be shifted forward in order to access the back. 

Her eyelids slowly flutter open before I could reach in; a light sleeper? Bee is one herself, but the seat never wakes her up. A very slight sleeper perhaps, or maybe she wasn't asleep?

Putting my thoughts in gear, not trusting my driving skills or where I would be taking us, I don't blame her. I practically forced her out of the house nearly forgetting she had to put on proper clothes and shoes.

Oops.

If it wasn't for my father's whiskey cabinet, this girl needs saving from Bee. I inwardly scoff at the thought, heroic much? Why am I worrying about this person? I could give a f**k less whoever has to deal with Bee's wrath.

I'll do that next time, the thought alone giving me a distasteful feeling. 

"Um..." a throaty mumble pauses my train of thoughts; I see I am trapping the strange girl from getting out of the car. 

"Sorry," muttering, I awkwardly shifted myself away from the door, stoically asking, "Do you need help?" Her jade-like eyes bore into mine, a foreign prickle infuriating my skin, rises until she downs her head shaking out denies.

Gripping the seat and pressing her hand against the wall of the car for support, she hoists herself up. I step back further as she puts one foot out and onto the rock-filled ground leading the rest of her body out of the car. 

While making the effort of taking her other out, it gets caught on the seat, tripping her over. Automatically, I lunge forward to hastily grab any part of her body before she faceplants the ground as I've been theatrically doing so for the past several hours. 

A small blaring scream escapes her cherry red lips; at the prospect of her near death, the force stumbles me backward, leaning on the opened car door. 

How many times is that now? I crumble up my face and lightly push her off my chest before she felt my heart give a start from the close proximity.

Moving away from the door, the annoyed expression I held gives her the hint to close it. I didn't say anything after that and begin to walk through the trees. A thin trail of sand barely covered from the leaves or branches, made its wake the further we walked and closer we got.

I halted as a thought crossed my mind, truly realizing where I brought her. No one knows of this place other than myself, why the f**k did I bring her here?

And if it wasn't for how quiet it is other than the crickets chirping, I would have completely missed what she utters beyond her gasp.

I turn around facing her, she jumps at my quick motion and progresses to look smaller the closer I advance her with a questioning glare. 

My voice nearly cracks as I speak, nevertheless I mask it with a cold tone, "What do you mean it hasn't changed?" I breathe harshly, my nostrils flaring. 

She flinches from my sudden change in demeanor; never taking her green eyes off mine, she gives me her answer.

"F-from my dream. It's..." her frightened eyes dart away from mine to look behind me, probably the moon. With furrowed brows, she bites her lip as if she was preventing herself from blurting something wrong, "...memorable," she finishes.

Memorable? She says memorable?

What is that supposed to mean! I know that can two f*****g ways. Two! What is she trying to imply? So many questions on the tip of my tongue and I don't f*****g say s**t, holding them back.

With no idea what made me, I have questions. Maybe it was her emerald green eyes seeming to have gotten grayer by the moon. Maybe the biting of those luscious cherry-red lips; my eyes glance at them for a moment. I quickly look away into the trees behind her as my thoughts run amok. Maybe it's her freckles that are sprinkling on one cheek to the next, crossing the bridge of her alabaster button nose. Or maybe it was her long black hair wrapping her in a cocoon of safety; it has my fingers itching to thread through its tresses. Or possibly the little pinkish scar under her front bangs.

Recalling not noticing it until we made o – no.

Taking a deep breath and a few steps back from towering over her short stature, I sigh aware of her shoulders going limp then relaxing. Let's me know I reacted way too much without intention. Having a short-fuse behavior hasn't always been peaches and cream.

I was lying when I said only I know of this place. My father is another. 

Was another. 

The man died when I was a young before then he'd always driven both of us up here at least a few times a year. We only went during the summertime because that's when the luscious grass of open field was genuinely an out-of-sight to see. Multiple acres of land he bought hoping to build something in the future. 

With the full moon or the drawing of crescents, mounting itself on the canvas of the pitch-black sky, it is the only source of lighting. No lamp posts were around the area unless you had a flashlight, natural lighting in all its shining glory would be enough.

It gives me a thought, is that why I f*****g unintentionally brought her here? The full moon didn't have any clouds to shy behind tonight.

Either way, I never found what that something was. I knew or vaguely remember was how his green eyes blazed in astonishment of what his thoughts prevailed this piece of land could bring whilst holding me in his arms.

But now he's dead.

And I don't remember how he died in the first place. Mom said it was a horrible smoke addiction, I never believed her story of him dying of lung cancer. 

Or at least that's what my stubborn self refuses to accept. It's confusing, I stray away from the thought of his death and still do.

I have asked my mother what he was going to do here, she tells me nothing sort of the obvious. Instead, her words were something along the lines of 'despite his eyes showing his human being, the skin covers it all too well.' I understood her representation a little as she cried me of those words. Never bothered to question further after that. 

"Where are we?" She lightly whispers – the rasp in her voice licking all the sounds she produced. It put my turbulent thoughts at bay about my father. I hate talking about him.

I feel to say something neutral; I've never really been on to hold my tongue. "I thought your dream clarified that," I spit. Internally cringing, the pale cheeks reddening on her milky complexion nearly made me regret snapping out. 

She bows her head down and takes a deep breath. After a moment, lifting her head, she glares in my messed-up orbs. Those green irises are swirling, turning darker – smoking embers eclipsing what I really see. Nothing but a spitfire ready to give me a piece of my own medicine.

"Correct me if I'm wrong..." clicking her tongue then poking the inside of her check before raking her eyes to study my face. I feel myself squirm under the intense gaze, instead, I raise my eyebrow regarding her course of action. 

"You'd be nice, but you get hurt easily; is that why you're such an asshole?" She never stutters a word.

Sassiness oozes out an extra when she proceeds to put her hand on her hip and tilt her head to the side; a little smile perfected those tempting lips. I lick mine, telling myself they feel dry as my throat. 

The sudden change in demeanor flips a switch inside and I refuse to let her think she has me all figured out. Beverly has known me longer than anybody and she still tries half the time. That's why we work together, knowing half of each other is a nice whole chocolate chip cookie. 

Except it's made with a lot of salt rather than sugar.

I give the black-haired beauty my honest response, kinda. "Studying me won't help you graduate," I banter, a cool smirk gracing my chapped lips. 

She pauses at my retort. "I- I wasn't ch- studying you," she quickly stammers. I quirk an eyebrow. Her eyes widen a centimeter before looking away. 

"Hmmm," I mumble lowly, another snide mark lingers dangerously on my tongue. For now, I shut up not wishing to talk. Glancing at her deep green pools in a spur of the moment, I turn around and walk further out onto the land. I truly hope what the girl stated wasn't true.

She is still nervous. Agitated fiddling of her fingers is endless as I looked before walking around the verdant landscape again. 

I claim it to be perfectly safe as a get-out-of-jail-free card. Coming here multiple times alone – especially during the night – always made it feel safer, which is ironic. 

If it wasn't for the sudden yelp, I would have forgotten about her presence; this place does that for me. Buckling up all treacherous thoughts in a battered-up tiny present gracing itself in dignity. Problems all start out small. 

One of them is struggling to start up a conversation; I have the urge to talk to her and strike up one. I prefer waiting for the other part to say something first. That part can also be the fact of not wanting to speak at all. Mostly the latter. 

Despite trying my best in not showing it, she intimidates me a little. 

As the grass started to higher – up to my thighs – I turn around again as she yelps a second time. 

Fireflies? I snicker; one of those girls who are scared of bugs. Can't relate. 

The twinkling specks of yellow lights are all around us. I am about fifteen feet away from her nevertheless I stand in awe of how the full moon is dressing her milky skin. Upon observing in spite of my unwillingness, the cheerful smile extends her vermillion lips as the random fireflies periodically gleam.

I would've assumed before she was swatting them away as I wasn't looking but seeing now it's only if they come closer to her face. One of them eventually lands on her button nose and she yelps - a small jump - that f*****g smile never disappearing out of sight; out of my mind.

This time, I don't ignore the feeling in my heart.

"s**t," a whisper ghosts under our breaths, "that's cute."