7 Days (BxB)

~24

          The truck was a stick-shift. Of course, it was. Why would it not be, knowing my luck? It was enough to make me chuckle out loud.

But I was a determined boy. Everyone knew it; it often got me in troubled situations. This whole week felt like a wonderful, troubled situation, so what more could a car crash induce? I got in, slamming the door shut with a violent creek.

My dad loved his truck. It was a pile of garbage, a piece of metal my mother always insisted was useless. Though, I suppose it was like my bike. My bike was a piece of shit.

There were several numbers located seemingly everywhere, and lord knows how I did with numbers. But lord also knew, along with everyone else, I was determined.

I started the engine and took off.

The journey was rough and full of mistakes, and I hadn't even picked Noah up yet.

But he was there waiting for me by the window after a few pebbles tapped against the pane. The boy with the sad eyes. The world could be ending in a wave of burning chaos but Noah would never cease to make me smile.

"Hi," I whispered.

He grinned. "Hi, George."

"Do you have any blankets?" I questioned, then chuckled, "I know you have pillows. Bring those too."

His eyebrows furrowed in curious confusion. I only smiled, a tease to egg him on. He sighed and left to retrieve the items.

The night was pleasant. A breeze here and there, tickling the trees. And the stars filled with so much wonder; we could pinpoint every one of them. I turned to the trees with my hands in my pockets, rocking on my heels in a sort of victorious way.

Noah was back at the window, struggling to hold a large bundle of fluff. "Is this okay?" he managed.

I laughed. "Why does that not surprise me? Drop them here."

The bundle fell in my open arms, and before I knew it, Noah was by my side, helping me with the blankets. I looked at him, "Thank you, sir."

He glanced at me, subtly grinning, his eyes a ghostly brown in the light of the streets. "You're a dork."

With a dewy gaze, I watched him turn to walk to the truck. I could almost hear the trees murmur, "A smitten dork." That was true. Very true.

On our way to the park, neither of us could stop laughing. I sucked at driving a stick, utterly and completely sucked. But if it made Noah laugh than I couldn't care less. If we crashed and burned, we would go down in a bomb of brilliant fireworks.

Let's just stick to the laughing, though. For now.

Our approach to the park struck curiosity in Noah as his nose scrunched up and his expressions wavered. "That's a lot of cars," he said.

I observed the parking lot of people, of teenagers bouncing from door to door, popcorn being thrown in another's mouth, open trunks filled with embraced people as the screen reflected a black and white shimmer across the scene. Perfect.

"Actually, this is pretty good," I assured. "I'm assuming you've never been to a town drive-in movie. They happen once a month. It's kind of a teenage tradition."

He repeated the words, testing them on his tongue, "'Teenage tradition.' How scary."

I grinned. His eyes looked hesitant and his shoulders tensed, like a startled rabbit. Adorable. "Hey." I put my hand on his forearms, halting his twiddling thumbs and forcing his attention upon me. "It's just you and me tonight, okay? Nobody else. Especially no familiar rich snobs."

My words seemed to ease some of the stress even a little. His shoulders slumped and his lips twitched to a smile. "I believe you."

We stayed there for a moment, my hand on his arm. But I broke away and the absence of his skin was a cold chill on my fingertips. Instead, I shoved his shoulder a bit, playfully. "Good."

We backed into a spot a ways away from everyone else but with a good view of the movie—an old film of some dramatic romance and secret agents. I got out after telling Noah to stay put. Blankets upon blankets crowded to trunk as pillows lined every inch. The willow tree above us swayed a bit in the breeze, and the stars never stopped winking upon on the view. It was almost perfect, but missing a key detail.

I opened the door where Noah sat, grinning at me skeptically. "George, what are we doing?" He asked the question in a tone that your mother would use when she was done with your shenanigans.

I looped my hand in his, a smooth action, before gently easing him out of the truck to stand by my side.

I could have done it right here, right now, where we were secluded behind the truck. I could have grabbed his waist and propped him against the truck with intertwined fingers, tuck that strand of hair behind his ear and stroke his tempting cheeks. I could have given in to the temptation of Noah, but from that list, all I did was rid of the stray hair falling in his face to tuck behind his ear. His gaze relaxed completely.

"Ever heard of James Bond?"

"Obviously."

I raised an eyebrow, "That's a start."