Jem

IT’S STILL PRETTY EARLY, so the air is crisp and cold when we merge onto the highway. Other than a few passing comments about good weather, Indie doesn’t say much, so I figure it’s time to bring up the thing that’s been eating at me from the moment I saw her waiting at the steps to her apartment.

Giving her a passing glance from the wheel, I go for the jugular. “I’m surprised you agreed to come.”

She frowns slightly as my words sink in. “You asked me to.”

“I know,” I say, “But you didn’t have to say yes.”

She’s silent for a while, and I know I’m kind of an asshole for pushing it, but I do anyway. “Why did you say yes?”

This time, Indie sighs. She’s quiet for a few seconds, almost as if she’s gathering her thoughts, before she turns to me. 

“My whole life,” she says, “I’ve had people tell me what to do. She swallows, tearing her gaze from me to look ahead. “Don’t play on the monkey bars too long, Indigo, your arms aren’t strong enough. Don’t sign up for gymnastics, Indigo, you’re too weak. Don’t try help others when you can’t even help yourself. So when Kade told me racing wasn’t my scene …”

 “Didn’t take it so well?”

“Nope.”

One hand still on the wheel, I run the knuckle of my thumb against my chin absently. “Can I ask you a question?”

She offers me a barely-there smile. “You just did, but yeah. Sure.”

I cut straight to the chase. “Why are you still with him?”

Clearly, I’ve taken it too far this time, because she seems to shrink into herself. Folding her arms, she hesitates, looking out her window instead of replying. Sighing, I choose to drop the topic and pull out my phone from the centre console instead.

She notices and gives me the side eye. “You really shouldn’t use your phone while driving, you know.”

Sighing, I lift my unlocked phone to her. “I know. Will you check what turn I have to take? Search it up.”

Indie nods, accepting the phone and scrolling on it for a while before she furrows her brow. “Why don’t you have the Google Maps app?”

I shrug. “I don’t need directions too often. Just search it up.”

There’s silence as she does what I ask, but there’s a soft intake of her breath and when it hits me, it’s too late. Way too fucking late.

“Uh...why is what is osteochondroma in your recently searched?”

I clamp down on my jaw, unable to tamper down the rush of heat that immediately rises up my neck. I’d searched up the condition to find out more about it when I got back to my place after she mentioned it. It takes me a good few seconds to recover, but eventually I do, plastering on a close-lipped smile as I turn to face her. “My friend happens to have it.”

A quick glance at her isn’t enough for me to gauge her reaction. It’s a mixture of amusement and surprise, and maybe a little bit of guilt in the mix. She clears her throat, looking down at my phone and then back up. “Um, you have to take the right turn.”

The turn comes up ahead, and I take it. “Since she’s my friend,” I say, “She should also consider putting her number in my phone.”

Indie chews back a smile and rolls her eyes at this, but I don’t miss the five minutes it takes for her to save her number onto my phone before she gingerly places it back on the centre console. A small smile appears on her face as she stares at the scenery outside her window.

I use this as my chance to reach to the back of the car for my bag of marshmallows. My hand barely grazes the bag when she snaps her neck to face me. “What are you doing?!”

My brow lifts. “Uh, getting my marshmallows?”

“What?” Focus on the road.”

“Fine. Jesus, woman, you stress me out.” I huff, twisting into my seat and settling both my hands on the wheel. “Get it for me then, will you?”

I catch her rolling her eyes in my periphery, but she reaches back and grabs my bag anyway, the plastic crinkling under her hand.

“I’m gonna have to let go of the wheel to eat those,” I say as she straightens. And then I grin. “Unless you feed them to me.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Why do you like marshmallows so much?”

“Because they’re fucking amazing, that’s why,” I say, reaching out to grab my babies from her evil grasp.

Indie just pulls the bag further out of my reach. “Stop! Focus on the road, Jem, seriously!” I don’t miss the fact that it’s the first time she’s said my name. When I pass her an incredulous look, she sighs. “Fine. I’ll give them to you. If you’re so badly craving your crack supply.”

Before I can ask what exactly she means, she rips the bag open and pulls out a marshmallow, reaching over and shoving it into my slightly ajar mouth. By the time it all sinks in, I’m semi-shocked and semi-turned on, and I only manage two chews before I swallow.

She already has her fingers wrapped around another marshmallow, extended halfway over the console to me. I turn to flash her a grin. “I was kidding about the feed them to me part, you know.”

There’s a furious flush to her cheeks, and she’s about to pull away when I reach over, lightning fast, and close my mouth over the marshmallow. My lips graze her fingers in the slightest, and she freezes for a second, only to resume wrenching away like it burned.

“Mmmm,” I moan obnoxiously as I swallow, just to grate on her nerves.

It works. She deadpans, pulling out another marshmallow, proceeding to unceremoniously shove it into my mouth. “Shut up.”

And because my mouth’s kind of full, I do. Only for a second, though.

I grin. “It’s too late to turn back now.”

Her jaw tightens as she stares at me. “You’re so . . . ugh. I don’t even know why I agreed to come with you.”

She fidgets with the hem of her dress, and I can tell that although she agreed to come on this little road trip, it was more or less an impulsive decision—maybe to prove something to her annoying boyfriend—and she’s on edge about it all.

I tilt my head as a shard of sunlight hazes my vision. “It’s not a bad scene. The crowds are nice, and I’ll find you a nice spot. Right at the front where I can see you. And if something happens to me, and we can’t drive back, I’ll book you a flight.”

Her eyes are wide. “Something might happen to you?”

“No,” I say, too quickly, “I got roughed up a bit because of a rookie. The list’s pretty safe this time.”

Except for Monroe. But she’s clearly anxious, so I don’t mention it. Besides, I know his moves in and out now, and I know how to avoid the little traps he sets. I’m confident that I can take him.

I glance at the time on the dash. It’s almost midday, and I’m starving. “You hungry?”

She shrugs. “Not really.”

“Well I am,” I say, “Let’s make a pit stop at a drive-through.”

She makes a face. “You don’t want more marshmallows?”

“Not unless you feed them to me. Nicely.”

“. . . No.”

“You could do it rough, too.”

“Jem.”

I laugh. Did I mention how much I love it when she says my name? Because I do. I fucking love it. “MacDonald’s it is.”

We drive for a half hour in silence, and usually, I love driving in silence, but somehow with Indigo in my passenger seat, I don’t seem to want it anymore. I think the silence bothers her too, because she reaches over to connect my phone to the aux.

“Hey,” I protest, “That shit’s sacred.”

She rolls her eyes. “What’s your password?”

“One nine six nine,” I murmur, and even though she doesn’t ask, I add, “My mom’s birth year.”

I don’t want her thinking it’s some stupid 69 joke or something. But she doesn’t say anything, and when I glance over at her, she’s tapping around on my phone, a small smile on her lips. “You like R&B?”

I hum in accordance. “A little.”

“A little?” She laughs. “It’s all you listen to.”

“That’s because it’s good, baby. Insulting my marshmallows is one thing, but insulting my music? That’s where I draw the line.”

“I’m not insulting your music.” She scoffs, and to prove her point, she sets one of my playlists on shuffle. Angel by Shaggy reverbs from the speakers, and I’m reminded how great the sound system in this car is. And how much I love this song. My lips lift, and I can’t help but hum along.

Girl you’re my angel, you’re my darling angel.

I feel Indie’s wide-eyed gaze on me, and she doesn’t look away. For a while. And then when I turn to give her a passing glance, she blinks, as if brought back to life. Hastily, she turns, lifting her face to brace the cool draft of wind from the slightly rolled down windows. I finish the lyrics to the chorus.

Girl you’re my friend when I’m in need, lady.

“I didn’t know you could sing,” she murmurs.

I huff out a laugh. “I can’t.”

She shakes her head as she gives me a fleeting look. “Your voice is . . . really nice.”

I swallow, turning so that she doesn’t how my stupid fucking cheeks flare at the compliment. Clearing my throat, I say, “Guess I’ll have to speak more often.”

“You do speak often.”

Another laugh, this time less humoured, escapes me. “Around you, maybe.”

The air quietens as we get stuck in another awkward rut. I’m inwardly cursing myself for not being more careful —about not thinking about how coded and forward some of the things I say can come across. I’m pretty sure I’ve dug myself a grave with this whole “friendship” thing, and that she isn’t going to talk to me for the rest of the drive when —

“He’s always there for me when I need him,” she says.

I frown, blurting, “What?”

“Kade,” she says, “You asked why I’m still with him.”

Oh. Right. I’d forgotten I’d even asked, and now that I know the answer, I’m wishing I hadn’t. He’s always there for me when I need him. An onslaught of thoughts plagues my mind, and a dull frustration creep up my spine as we pull into the MacDonald’s drive through.

The sound of a woman’s voice through the intercom pulls me out of my head. “Welcome to McDonalds, what can I get for you?”

“Two McDoubles, one large fry, and a tropic Sprite.” I turn to Indigo. “What are you getting?”

She shrugs. “Nothing.”

I give her a look, and a flustered look takes over her face. “Okay . . . uh, can I get an ice cream cone?”

Nodding, I turn to the intercom. “Can I get two ice cream cones?”

“I don’t want two,” Indie pipes from her seat.

I pass her a genial smile. “I’m not getting you two.”

She lifts a brow. “You’re going to eat two large burgers, a large fries and ice cream?”

My smile widens. “I’m a big boy.”

It’s a few minutes before we roll around to the next stop in the drive thru, and the brown paper bag is in my hands. I pass the ice cream cones to Indigo.

“Thanks,” she says.

I scarf down my first burger and drain half my soda in minutes, and I’m on my fries, and when I reach over to take a bite of the ice cream in Indigo’s other hand, she’s so busy with her own cone and looking out her window that she barely notices.

It’s not long before we’re back on the road, and I’m reaching for my second burger when she shoots me a look and offers to hold it for me so that both my hands can stay on the wheel. In any other case, it’d be annoying, but I can’t complain when I’m being hand fed by Indigo Gallagher.

We’re around the halfway mark of the trip when she gasps.

“What?” I ask, panic flaring.

“Can you pull over?”

I’m frowning, but I pull over anyway.

“Wait!” Indigo shrieks, “Not too far!”

I kill the engine. “What is it?!”

Jesus, this girl pulls out a wider range of emotions on me than I know I even have. She doesn’t offer up any explanation. She just opens her door and jumps out the seat, bending to inspect . . . the ground? The fuck? I get out of my seat and round the front of the car to find Indigo crouched over what looks like a purple flower bush-thing.

“Gallagher,” I say slowly, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Marron bacora,” she mumbles.

“English, Indigo.”

She sighs, glaring up at me. “It’s a rare species. They only grow on the Virgin Islands.” Her eyes are bright. “This is insane. Someone must have had a spore on their clothes or something and . . . they actually started growing on the side of this road. The rest have been driven over, see?”

She points along the road, where sure enough, there’s a similar purple bush, expect they’re trodden and soiled by car tracks.

“These are the only few left,” she mumbles sullenly, staring at her little purple flowers.

Exhaling, I crouch down to meet her gaze. Tilting my head, I say, “We’ll just have to take them with us, then.”

Immediately, she frowns. “We can’t just pluck these out. That would be —”

“Pointless?” I say, “Yeah, I know. A pot plant will live forever and might even grow bigger. Your words, right? So let’s make a pot plant of these purple fuckers and get back on the road, yeah?”

Her face warps into a frown. Sighing, I stand to my full height, and walk over to the car, returning with my empty soda cup and my water bottle. I rinse out any of sugary shit from the cup, then hand it to her. “Dig up, princess.”

Her mouth forms a little ‘o’ as she realizes what I mean, and then she looks down as a wide smile lifts her lips, and she presses her lips together as if trying to keep the smile from spreading. Then, like she doesn’t give a damn about what’s in the soil, she uproots her little purple flower bush with her bare hands, and deposits it into my soda cup.

I pass her the rest of the water my bottle to wash off the soil from her hands.

“Thank you,” she says. And when she looks up at me, there’s earnest gratitude in her brown eyes. It’s golden hour, so the orange sunlight washes over her features in the most flattering way, each freckle an ode to the canvas of her cheeks.

A wisp of her curly hair has come loose from her braid, falling to the side of her face. I’m itching to touch it, to tuck it away behind her ear, but I can’t. And all I’m thinking is: fuck.

This girl is so stunning it makes my chest hurt like she dug her hands into my ribcage instead of the soil. But she has a boyfriend. And I’m so fucking screwed. Because friends is the last thing I want from her — but it’s all she’s willing to give me.

***

a/n:

i moved states because i start college in a week and a wave of peril hit me so i decided to have a fight with my writerʼs block and guess who won? me, thatʼs who. *kisses biceps that donʼt exist.*

well, thatʼs it from me for this chapter, folks.

until the next one,

stay gold,
yuen