tampax

-09

❝I like us better when we're wasted.❞

- Tiësto, Wasted

✦

"I-I can fly."

"You mean drive?"

"That's what I said."

Jack's eyes minimize from their usual round size to thin, proportional slits as he searches her face for a trace of derision. Sahar blinks slowly, mentally battling with her prostrate mind, as she waits for Jack's reply.

"You seem really tired, are you sure you don't need a lift?" Jack urges, making sure not to break away from his potent lock on her eyes. Her shoulders ascend and fall in nonchalance, giving into her drunk persona's pleas.

"I gu-guess it would be a lot safer," Sahar attempts to pat Jack's shoulders, instead missing and patting his cheek. His skin, although grubby and dry, felt like the surface of sacred waters beneath her fingertips, as did her fingertips against the skin of his cheek. Her touch relaxed him.

Just the little pads of her fingers had his heart jiggling like a fish out of water. Her beauty had him at a loss for words, his vocabulary narrowing by the minute as he struggled to format sentences. Jack gnaws on his lip as he waits for Sahar to deliver a certain answer.

"Yeah, I'll take that lift, o-only if you really want me to," Sahar wasn't anxious, predominantly because her drunk mentality wouldn't allow it, instead her tongue was ready to perform a thousand word, unedited speech on how awfully downhill her night had gone.

He grasps her little palm in his mighty clasp, gently guiding her hand from his face and back to her side. He reluctantly released her trembling fingers, before stepping away and prompting for her to follow. With no moment of hesitation, she zips her bag shut, and trails after him.

They pass the bar, where Jack's small clan of friends sit, although none of them notice his absence apart from Sam, who sends him a sly wink before resuming his conversation with Nate. Sahar glances towards the door as they approach it, already feeling pallid breezes run across her bare arms.

Jack pushes through the door with ease, then holding it open for his acquaintance, who thanks him wholeheartedly, and from there they tread to his car. Sahar's eyes flicker to her own transport, tucked away so far into nearby bushes, that only's it's bumper is visible.

Get it in the morning, she recites to herself, until her attention is drawn away by the deep clicking of Jack's car, as it unlocks. He opens the door for Sahar, and she slides into the leather of the passenger seat, immediately finding comfort in the warmth and pleasant fragrance of his vehicle.

As soon as Jack shuts the door, and he is sure Sahar's eyes are strained away from himself, he rubs a hand over his sordid face, before forcing it through the tangled blades of hair on his scalp, as his nerves began to skyrocket. It's just a girl, he chants, it's just a girl.

He sidles round to the drivers' side with a natural bounce in his walk, his hands slipping beneath the doors handle before he pulls it open. His eyes don't leave her trembling body as he softly descends into his seats, in attempts to make as little noise as possible.

He wriggles in his seat, clicks the door shut, and turns to Sahar who also turns to him. His mouth opens and closes as he struggles to find words. He wished above all to extinguish the awkwardness engulfing the pair. She pushes herself forward, bra strap escaping from beneath her blouse and stray strands of hair escaping her slowly drooping bun.