Strike Us Like Matches

A continuation of Mini Golf.

Copyright Julia Bydulia.

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Rain was pouring down in fat drops and slanted lines, though the sky was bright and blue. White felt clouds were glued to the skyline as we drove along the highway.

He was sitting behind the wheel and I was in the passenger's seat, my feet resting on the dash. "Where are we going?" I asked, tugging on my shoelaces and staring at my legs (shaved smooth the night before, in preparation for seeing him.)

He smiled and glanced at me. "Guess," he dared me devilishly.

I smirked and pulled on the bottoms of my shorts. "I don't know, Rich. The mall?"

He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road. "Guess again."

"Mini golf?" I teased him, sticking out my tongue just because I knew he wasn't looking.

His cheeks flushed, but, he didn't say anything. He shook his head again and kept on driving.

I stopped guessing and he stopped telling me too, so we just listened to the rain hitting against the roof of the car. I looked at him once in a while, taking him in in my usual way, still blown away by the vastness of my feelings for him. I wanted him, I needed him, but, I knew I shouldn't have him. Danielle's words popped into my head for the thousandth time: Lil, you know it would crash and burn.

And that much was true. I knew it would crash and burn, but, I couldn't help myself. I still loved looking at his dark hair and how it fell in his face every time he turned his head.

"Can I put on some music?" I asked, resting my feet on the floor of the car and sitting up straight.

Without answering, he handed me his mp3 player. I took it and turned it on, smiling as I scrolled through the songs we both loved so much. I stopped on a Fall Out Boy song (labeled as The Fall Out Boys, one of our jokes) and played it, knowing I could sing along with every word.

"You are a getaway car, a rush of blood to the head, but me, I'm just the covers on top of your bed. You steer away in a rear view mirror, you make my head swim. I keep you warm and won't ask you where you've been," I sang, not looking at him. I didn't have to look to know he was watching out of the corner of his eye and listening sharply.

The guitar was strong and almost overpowered the rain, but, not quite. He joined in singing on the chorus, and we sang together, at the top of our lungs. "Strike us like matches, cause everyone deserves the flames. We only do it for the scars and stories, not the fame. At least everyone is trying, everyone is shining. Everyone deserves the flames but it's such a shame, such a shame."

It had been so long since I had listened to this song and it felt good to let the words slip from my lips again, to feel the chords ring through me again. I loved finding songs again and remembering every second.

"We're not going anywhere, are we?" I asked him quietly.

He didn't hear me over the music or the storm, but, I knew the answer. We were driving, moving, and it felt good. I felt good.