Assassin [H.S.]

Thrity Five

23:31pm (11:31pm)
Date: April 27th 2018
Location: US 101 N Freeway

Harry Styles

The night has fallen darker, the headlights are the only light shining our way as we keep driving to our unknown destination. Sloane doesn't seem tired but almost sober enough to navigate the directions.

I had to wake her up a few times just to make sure she wasn't fully asleep. Only because I remembered that she doesn't sleep well.

I've been dying to ask her why she has these recurring night terrors and insomnia. I'll only ask her when the time is right, but for right now she just needs to relax her mind a little bit.

I take my eyes off the road for a slight second but just to reach for another cigarette in the pack, sitting in the empty cup holders. My index and middle finger pick it up, placing it between my teeth as I try to find my lighter.

My hand tries to find it blindly as my eyes are solely focused on the road ahead of us. I could've sworn I put it in the cup holder as my nervousness started to rise. I curse under my breath, my eyes battling to switch from the steering wheel to the cup holders, manically searching for my lighter.

I'm about to fucking give up, settling for just an unlit cigarette in my mouth.

Until I hear a small cough erupt from the passenger's seat as I turn to look at Sloane. Small sparks and a couple of flames flare up in the palm of her hand; the thumb playing with the sparkwheel repeatedly as her eyes light up with a small grin on her face.

Shaking my head at her, I turn my attention away and look straight without putting up a fight. My left hand stays on the wheel, while my right goes over to her, finding the warmth of her leg as my fingers draw to her thigh, giving it a soft squeeze before I settle myself comfortably.

She turns her body slightly to me, drawing closer to my face. My vision of the freeway lane is now blocked by a bright orange flame set in the middle of my eyes. I put my mouth closer, letting the end of the cigarette touch the fire until I can feel it burn. I point my head up with the cigarette turning away from the lighter, inhaling the drawl of tobacco entering my mouth and tongue.

My hand slides away from her thigh, taking my cigarette out so that I take a deep exhale. The puff of smoke clouding the dashboard and the smell surrounding our faces. So far this is my fourth one that I've lit and I've shared it with Sloane, who gently takes it away from my fingers and puts it in between her plump lips.

From the corner of my right eye, her cheeks suck it in and let the smoke fall under mouth, falling out like a waterfall. Those brown eyes molding through the dark and her tamed hair clouding the sides of her face. Even in the night, I admire every part of her that's tucked away in the dead of night. My words are not enough to tell her how captivating she is, in every kind of way.

Our existence feels like a lifetime, like we've known each other before we met. There's something that gravitates me whenever I see from afar. My memories are clogged in my brain that I forget what I'm trying to recall the first time I ever stepped into Oregon.

Before all the training, the ugly truth and the dismay of my father, the only thing that kept me at my feet and at God's will was her. Not that I'm being melodramatic, but I quickly realized how fast we connected just as if we were torn apart and sewed back together.

"You doing' okay?" The sound of her voice draws me back to reality, the concern etched by her tone.

I silently nod. "Yeah yeah I'm not tired." Although I should be going back to the house and trying to make up for my lack of sleep, I don't want to end the night just yet.