Burning Out

64- Miami #1

Song- Cherry by Lana Del Ray
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Miami— just as I have dreamed my whole life.

My hairline has a light sheen of sweat coating it because it's really hot today. Considering it's early July and we're even further south than normal, I'm not used to the high temperatures. Especially after having spent the majority of my life in England where, to no secret, the sun barely ever provides actual heat.

Thank god the taxi we are in has air-conditioning or I might just go insane. I was stupid and didn't think about the temperature change so as I got on the plane this morning, preparing to fly over a thousand miles south, I decided to stupidly layer on a long-sleeve shirt and trousers.

It doesn't help either that I'm crammed in between Leonardo and Olly in the backseat, their body heat is only adding to the suffocation. Noémi called shotgun the second we stepped foot off the luxurious plane and the wave of humidity crashed onto us.

Luckily everyone seems to be in good spirits, excited for the weekend ahead of us. Despite my growing discomfort, I find myself leaning forward and bracing my elbows on my knees, desperately peering out of the front windscreen in a hope to get a sight at the beautiful city that's alive outside the confines of this vehicle.

"I can't wait to change," I mumble, shuffling forward in my seat and wriggling out from the sticky sides of the two men sat to the left and right of me.

"I told you that you'd want to wear something lighter than that," Leonardo argues, reaching to rest his hand on my thigh.

I'm quick to swat it away, shoving his arm back to his body with a scowl caused by a combination of irritation from his words and the warm environment, "Don't touch me, it's too hot."

"You sound like a typical Brit when they go anywhere nice," I hear Olly scoff from my right. I swing my head to look at him, detaching my eyes from Leonardo's offended frown at my rejection of his comfort, and find Olly staring out the window with his chin braced in the palm of his hand.

"Funnily enough, I am British... and so are you, Leonardo too," I counter, crossing my arms along my chest.

At the sound of our bickering voices, Noémi is swivelling in her seat to direct her eyes sternly at all three of us. "If we have any more petty arguing like we did at our business date two weeks ago, you're all getting stuffed on the next flight home."

We all blankly stare at her, not expecting such a harsh outburst. I blink a few times whilst considering her words.

"You wouldn't dare," I finally settle on, narrowing my eyes at her face. She wouldn't kick me away from my childhood dream of visiting Miami, surely?

"Try me and find out," she mutters with a quick eyebrow raise before swinging back to face out the front.

I glower at the back of her head, staring at her hair tied back in a tight bun. If I was feeling crueler, I would probably grab it and yank her head back.

Jesus Christ, Farrah. Pull yourself together.

Something about this stuffy heat is getting me all worked up; or maybe it's the excitement of the weekend ahead of me; or it could be the nerves for the job on Saturday; or it could be Leonardo's thigh which is tightly pressed against mine and ever so slightly pushing with more pressure each passing second.

I drop my eyes to our connected legs, watching as Leonardo inches closer and closer to me as every second ticks by. I look up when I feel his eyes on me and, sure enough, there he is smirking at my entrancement by the single touch of contact.