The Flames In Mind 8 Change Of Heart || Part 1

"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.i.t.c.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 gla.s.s 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 s.p.a.ce.
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