Beautiful Boy

with you

amara haven

Eight months passed by in the blink of an eye.

Nic had been sober for fourteen months, me for ten.

It was bothering me how fast time was flying by. We were driving back to San Francisco for my birthday.

Well... kind of for my birthday.

I'd be twenty in about a month, and it felt extremely weird to think about.

They say "Time flys when you're having fun" but they never mention how fast it flies when you're busy with your life.

"Can you at least try to listen to me? I've been talking to Michael for the last fifteen minutes," Nic said, snapping me back to reality.

That was another thing that was still surreal, we ended up adopting Michael.

I chuckled, "Sorry."

"It's okay," he replied, "Do you wanna stop in Kettleman again?"

"I don't min-"

"I regret asking," he muttered, making me laugh.

The intro to 'All The Small Things' started on the radio and I got excited, turning it up.

Nic shook his head at me and laughed as I badly sang the lyrics through my own laughter.

"Don't laugh at me!" I exclaimed in the instrumental part after the chorus.

"I'm laughing with you," he teased.

"Come on," I slapped his shoulder, "Have some fun."

He rolled his eyes at me, but joined in with the terrible singing and laughter.

The last notes of the song faded out and we continued laughing, I leaned over and mussed his curls.

"You're distracting me from driving," he said, trying to bite my hand.

I pulled away and giggled, "That's your problem."

"You're my problem," he countered, "Where'd all this energy come from."

I pointed at the cup holders that held two coffee cups, one mine and one his.

"I should've guessed," he rolled his eyes.

I noticed that he was wearing a ring on his right pinky finger, peaking my interest.

His right hand was on the steering wheel and his left was resting out of the open window.

"Switch your hands," I said.

"What?" He asked.

"Switch your hands," I repeated.

He brought his left hand to the wheel, "Why?"

I grabbed his right hand and slid the ring off of his finger to look at it.

It was a little silver band, engraved with words that my bad vision couldn't see without glasses.

"What does it say?" I asked, slipping it onto my ring finger.

"Life is too short to worry," he replied.

I giggled, "How perfect for you."

He chuckled, "You can keep it if you want to."

"What?" I questioned.

"It fits your finger, you can keep it," he smiled.

"I'd say it's a perfect quote for the pair of us," I teased.