Mailboy (Wattys 2015 Winner)

10. Love Runs Out

"Let me know where to go and I'll get you there. Tell the truth and I'll show you how to dare. Flash lights held tight we can own this town," Kiss Me Kiss Me -5SOS 

-

Nico Forrest

“Thanks for coming back,” said Zoey, tapping her finger on the arm rest.

I chose not to answer, partly because she got pissed when I didn’t answer and partly because I was still aggravated at her. She made assumptions about me, yet she had no idea who I was. She did the one thing I hated the most; judging.

Yes, I understood that it was a big mistake to bring her with me, but it happened in the spur of the moment. She was loud, particularly annoying and infuriating.

Keeping my eyes on the road ahead, I put my favorite disc in and played it. Zoey twitched, but thankfully didn’t say anything. She looked like the kind of girl who hated these kinds of songs, but I couldn’t possibly care less.

“I’ll be your light, your match, your burning sun. I’ll be the bright, in black that’s making you run.”

“I love this song,” she said quietly.

I took this as a sign to turn up the music. The music was building up to the chorus. I secretly hoped Zoey wouldn’t actually do what I thought she’d do.

“I got my mind made up and I can't let go. I'm killing every second 'til it saves my soul,” sang Zoey, bobbing her head exaggeratingly, which made her ponytail move around. She strummed an invisible guitar in the air.

She deflated my hopes.

“Don’t sing, please. You sound like a walrus,” I begged.

She stopped singing…then started humming loudly.

“Hunter, I thought I said—”

“Sorry.”

Slowing down at a stop sign, I turned and looked at her in shock. She actually apologized, twice today. This was very unlike her.

“I’m a nice person, I apologize when I know I’m being too much,” she said. Her long bangs were messy because of the head-dancing.

Thinking back to her insults, I replied:“You’re nice?”

“I try to be,” she said. “I really am sorry though, about what I said. I’m not usually so bitchy, I hate people who are like that.”

“Then why were you being a bitch?”

She shrugged and looked away. All Time Low’s Therapy was playing in the background, which suited her physical position.

“Is it because of the loser you like?”

“I-I actually don’t know,” she said, staring at the windshield absently. She turned her gaze to me. “I think so.”

“You’re that upset over him?”

She ignored me. “We should move. A car could come soon.”

“We’re in the outskirts of Silvercrest, no one ever passes by here except on weekdays.” I said, rolling my eyes.

“How do you know no one ever comes through here?” Her eyes were a honey color, the sun’s hue on them made them strike out from the rest of her face.

“Don’t change the subject,” I argued. “You’re really that hurt over a jerk like him?”

“I don’t want to talk about—”