Falling in the Dark | ✓

11 | Stars

The wind rushing into the green Ford is almost therapeutic. It whistles and swirls around me, separating me from my troubles as we drive farther away from Ivy University. My ears feel cold and frigid inside my black beanie, but I insist on keeping the windows rolled down halfway. In a few weeks' time when the winter and the excitement of Christmas really kick in, we can't possibly imagine driving anywhere with the windows open. People will be bundled up in layers, craving the warmth of heaters and hot beverages while layer after layer of snow pelts down, burying the ground and coating the barren tree branches.

A few strands of dirty blonde hair escape from my hat and fall in front of my eyes. I push them away and turn to my left where Felix is driving his car down a long, winding road towards Blackwood. Even when his hands are relaxedly positioned around the wheel and his shoulders are reclined against the driver's seat, his eyes are filled with an intense curiosity that never seems to leave him.

Almost as if he wants to demonstrate the curiosity that I was just thinking about, he asks, "Was the guy you were talking to after class your friend?"

I remain silent for a few seconds, collecting my thoughts and reminding myself to introduce him as my best friend's boyfriend. Not my beautiful stranger.

But Felix speaks up before me. "I just asked because you looked kind of scared when you saw him."

Kind of scared. Is that how the whirlwind of emotions I can barely comprehend appears to others?

I give a short laugh as though his observation is a mistake. "That was Liam. Vera's boyfriend. I probably looked scared only because Murdoch would've left without my test if not for you."

Felix dismisses my gratitude with a lopsided smirk. "Look," he says suddenly, indicating with his eyes to a sign a few meters ahead of us. It reads 'Blackwood' in large white print. Soon, the thick trees on either side of the road are replaced by palatial homes, each more luxurious than the last. Perfectly manicured lawns, garages big enough to hold multiple high-end cars, richly painted teakwood front doors that scream of wealth.

"I like to guess what kind of people live in each house," Felix says with a sheepish shrug. He slows down to point at a two-story house to my right. Only two rooms in the large house appear to be lit, silky curtains drawn across the windows. "See, that one's owned by two plastic surgeons."

"Why plastic surgeons?" I ask, looking at him in mild confusion.

"Look at their mailbox," he says matter-of-factly. I squint at the red mailbox at the front of their pretty lawn.

"It looks like every other mailbox to me," I say.

Felix raises his eyebrows as though I'm missing something evident. "It's obviously a plastic surgeon's mailbox."

His eyes glint with amusement when they meet mine, and I dip my head and laugh.

Usually, it doesn't take longer than five minutes to drive through the rich neighborhood of Blackwood, but it takes us as long as twenty minutes because Felix drives at snail's pace. I throw myself into his game with enthusiasm because I'd rather try to guess the lives of the people behind the pristine picket fences than guess which homes Vera and her friends had trespassed into.

Finally, Felix turns left when the road out of Blackwood forks into two. The road is quiet, fairly uncrowded and lit by tall yellow lamp posts. We stop at the corner of the street near an observatory surrounded by poorly tamed weeds. The large dome looks old and faded against the night sky.

"It's an outdated observatory. It'll be demolished soon." Felix ducks to look at the building through the windshield.

"Are we going there?" I ask dubiously, stretching my fingers over the smooth dashboard.