Morning Coffee | ✓

eighteen • ristretto

☂ eighteen: ristretto

I felt the subtle warmth of the wind blow through the windows as I tapped my fingers on the edge of the door. It was finally starting to get warmer, now that April showers had passed.

I looked over at Carter in the driver's seat, thankful that we returned to carpooling ever since we made up two weeks ago. Although Carter and I only spent a week avoiding each other, it felt like forever - especially when it came to school.

It sucked having to wake up earlier in the morning to make myself a cruddy breakfast and drive to school alone. I had grown accustomed to the pancake breakfasts Carter and I would make, along with our shared driving schedule. Making up with him only made me appreciate his morning efforts to get us to school on time and with happy stomachs even more.

Mornings aside, it was nice being friends with Carter again. The whole starting over thing seemed a little bizarre to me at first, but it was pretty effective. Sure, things weren't exactly the same as they once were, and they probably never would be, but they were okay. And for now, I was good with just being okay.

I watched sunlight stream through the windows, with some of it finding its way into Carter's eyes, which remained on the road as he drove us home from school. Under direct exposure from the light, I noticed that Carter's eyes actually looked quite brown, compared to how dark they normally looked. They were actually really pretty, which really annoyed me. Why did boys always get the gorgeous eyes?

"You're distracting me, you know," Carter said, interrupting my thoughts. When he noticed my confusion, he continued with a chuckle, "You've been staring at me for a while now."

I scoffed. "I have not."

"Have to!"

"How would you know? You're driving!" I protested.

"There's a little something called peripheral vision, my friend."

"You're supposed to be paying attention to the road, my friend," I said, mimicking the last part.

"Ah, but see, a good driver is aware of his or her surroundings at all times. Which, you know, you would know if you were a good driver," he teased. I wanted to punch the arrogant idiot, but thought better of it since he was driving. Instead, I sulked in my seat and muttered some foul words under my breath that I knew he'd be able to hear. All he did was laugh, which frustrated me further. "And for your information, I wasn't staring at you; I was thinking," I said.

"What were you thinking about?" he asked.

"How to get away with murdering you and discarding your remains," I said with a smile. He gave me a flat look. "You're one morbid girl," he said, shuddering. It was my turn to laugh now.

"That's me!"

Carter glanced at me and rolled his eyes. "Admit it, you were thinking about me," he pressed.

"Maybe I was," I admitted, hoping he wouldn't grow an even bigger head.

"Were you thinking about how much you're going to miss me?" he sang with a certain smugness in his voice. Annoying.

I was going to miss him, though, whether I'd admit it or not. Once we got home, he'd have to pack up and return to his house, since Mrs. Daniels had returned just last night. Even though my mom insisted that it was fine if Carter stayed for a little longer (she was overjoyed to know that we were on speaking terms again), Mrs. Daniels insisted that she didn't want to trouble us any further and her decision was made.

I knew he was still going to be living next door, but it wasn't the same. I'd miss his pancakes and our nice talks on the couch. I'd even miss his obnoxiously loud singing in the shower and hogging of the T.V., strangely enough.