12:22

eleven

Inez

4:43

The sun is setting, it looks unreal. Like a painting, different shades of blues, pinks, and oranges overlapping one another.

I love sunsets.

They feel safe, like they bring a sense of reassurance that you need when things aren't going so well.

I run a hand through my hair, fixing it and noticing how terrible it looks right now.

Who let me go out like this?

It's overly curly and frizzy.

I should've straightened it, it looks disgusting. I just took a shower too so it doesn't exactly look how I want it to, just needed to leave the building.

I'm at an abandoned parking lot by the beach, there's only me and this guy a few parking spots further away from me.

The car I'm sitting on isn't even mine.

He has a sharp jawline, I could stare at him for hours.

I feel like I know him.

He has on a lose white t-shirt and khakis, he looks tired.

His lips part and he takes the cigarette from between his upper and bottom lip. He throws it to the side of the parking spot and turns his head to the left so now his side profile is facing me.

Wait.

Is that-?

No way.

An older man, about maybe in his forties, taps my shoulder. Signaling me to get off his car, I realize and get down. He has a slight amount of facial hair and dark brown eyes.

"Sorry." I apologized, watching him drive off quickly.

We make eye contact and I freeze, taking an earbud out so the music wasn't as loud.

Should I go over there?

No.

I want to though, just to bother him. I wanna see his reaction.

Inez, what the hell is wrong with you?

I'm going to do it.

I could get him to drive me, I don't want to walk home.

Walking over to him, and getting onto the roof of his Porsche and sitting a couple inches away from him.

"Hi." I wave to him, fixing my hair and put a few strands into place.

He doesn't say anything, nodding in response.

"Ronan." I spoke in a higher tone, his facial expression changes as soon as his name leaves my mouth.

"Oh, hi. Sorry." He responds dryly,

The corners of his lips turn upward and a dimple on the right side of his mouth appears.

He has a dimple on the right side of his face.

"What are you doing here?" He asks me, studying my face as if he's trying to read me.

I clear my throat, "What do you mean what am I doing here? In a public place?" I ask, attempting not to sound as nervous as I am.

He doesn't say anything in response, taking a ring on and off the same finger.

Why do I find that attractive? what no I don't.

"Don't you speak Italian?" It slips out of my mouth because of an article I read about him online.