Night Alpha

27 - Down Drive

So it's been a while. Work has been... though. Writing has helped me think of something else, your kind comments have been a true support.

Thank you so much for 30k. Thank you for reading this book, thank you for your support. See you after the chapter. Hope you like it.

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I'm relieved to find safety from the cold wind when I close the door of the car. There's a blazing sun outside but its heat does nothing against the harsh gusts. I bury my nose under the thick scarf. I somehow didn't think Milo would have a car, thought he was a walk everywhere kind of guy.

I take in the old leather smell, let my fingers skim over the black plastic on the door, on the dashboard. It catches my eye immediately, contrast striking against the dark interior. A small pebble, white as snow and I think of the pond. But it's too smooth, laying in the cupholder.

I don't image Milo polishing it, so how? Because it doesn't smell of him inside, there's only wood and leather. I push my back further into the seat when he gets inside, still huffing at the wind. I think he's tired of the weather too. I hear the old jeep whine when he settles in, weight slightly leaning to his side.

I often forget it because we're about the same height, but he's much more heavy, much more dense. It's almost comical seeing him inside a car, no matter how big, not just because of his size but how he doesn't seem to fit. Even if the car is probably older than him, Milo looks ancient, too wild to fit a modern time.

I wonder why I never thought of it before, even with a phone in hand. Maybe because it doesn't fit into his palm this time, yet he could crush it just as easily. Now it's not just the car but his presence that warms up with the sun, leather on my back heating up, I melt into it, long legs spread under the dashboard.

I lean against the headrest, let my hands lay on my lap. I wonder what kind of driver Milo is. Wonder what the queen is like up close. I don't think I'll run into her somehow, feel like it would be weird. I can't help but to scrunch my nose at the thought. I jump when an arm crosses over my lap.

Let out a strangled groan of surprise when I see Milo leaning over me, hand grabbing the seatbelt with blank stare. Yet his face is right in front of mine, barely lower now that he's crouched over my lap. It feels like a silent scolding somehow, in the way only he knows how to do. Because he stays there, other hand behind my headrest.

« Hook up. » I blush at his words, feel my jaw tighten at his posture, because I see the muscles of his stomach flex with the gesture even under his shirt. Because I watch his fingers clasps around the belt he pulls to lock into place. It gives an audile click that does nothing to hide my thumbing heart.

I have to think to swallow the spit that gathered in my mouth so I don't choke. Have to twist my fingers still laying on my lap to get my head out of its dumbfounded state. I'm too sensitive, I've gotten too responsive to any and to all of him. It's as scary as stimulating.

Milo starts the car anyway, but I don't miss when he inhales in my direction even though he stills faces the road. I don't think he does it on purpose. I grab at the seatbelt over my chest to relieve some pressure, but my body has heated up and I don't feel like having the wind slap me in the face again.

I hear the tires screeching over the gravels, bits and pieces flying under the car and rattling the metal. It's as loud as it's smooth, the engine. Hums like it's too well maintained for such an old car. I think of Milo, hands under the hood of the jeep, picture his arms tainted with black grease. Sweat over his brows.

« Buckle up. » I mutter under my newfound breath, still under the scarf that hopefully hides my reddened cheeks. He is, after all, the only thing in my life. The only movement, the only change and routine at the same time. How could I not move alongside him, breathe in with every of his looks?