"Can you drive any slower?" Hudson sat on the passenger side of Storm's outdated jeep with one hand on the car roof handle, the other on the armrest, praying his last day on earth was not today.
"Relax grandma, I'm on the fast lane."
Storm tightened her one hand on the wheel as a bright blue Honda whipped into her lane without signaling. A few inches closer and her bumper would've collided with the back of that stranger's car.
"See? You should be going 60 miles per hour."
"Says who?"
"The road sign."
Storm caught a glimpse of the 60 mph white and black sign they now passed. She was going 80 and barely felt it.
"So you're saying I'm the only reckless Jane on the road right now going over the senior citizen speed limit?"
"That's not the point babe," Hudson said, holding in a laugh. Her candor eased the anxiety he felt each time she decided to drive. Saying no to Storm was like shattering her into bits. She was that of glass, emotionally fragile and turbulent.
"Then what is your point? If I slow down, we'll never make it in time for first period."
"We wouldn't be in this situation in the first place if you had woken up in time," he muttered under his breath.
Storm gaped at him, then returned her eyes to the road.
"You mean you wouldn't be in this situation if you had listened to that good little angel on your shoulder that despises me."
Hudson chuckled. "He doesn't despise you," he said sweetly. "He just thinks you're a little..."
"Irresponsible?" she answered first.
"No," he lied with a playful smile.
They looked at each other for a second and smiled. Her piercing hazel green eyes returned to the road ahead, but his lingered on the small bridge of her nose, the well-crafted shape of her pouty lips, and the waves of her waist-long light brown hair tied into a messy bun with a pen. He could never stop telling himself just how beautiful she grew up to be.
When they finally reached Jack's house, Hudson let out the longest breath of relief of his life, and let go of the now sweaty roof handle from his clammy hand.
Jack was standing outside holding one strap of his book bag over his shoulder.
Storm beeped the old army green Jeep obnoxiously, enough so to embarrass Jack in his neighborhood and waved.
"Kind of early for all that noise don't ya think?" Hudson said.
She looked over her shoulder and stuck out her tongue at Hudson. Her attention suddenly moved to Jack through the passenger window as he strode as casual as day towards them. Somehow that unruly, skinny little boy she once knew with dirt under his fingernails and cuts and bruises had become a well-groomed, attractive young man with strong arms, a defined jawline, and the demeanor of a man in his 20s that had traveled the world, something none of the other guys in Broadhollow could ever achieve. Jack was certainly not a boy anymore.
Today he wore a black tank top with a grunge song's lyrics in red font, exposing more muscles than he should and a pair of chuck Taylor's and black cargo pants. If he didn't stick out before when he was the town's problem child, he certainly did now. Interestingly enough, there was never a trace of his Virginia upbringing in him—Jack had always looked and behaved like an outsider in Broadhollow.
She was now lost in his confident strides towards the Jeep.
"Storm, the door," he said.
By the time she realized she had been gawking, Jack was pulling at the back handle.
YOU ARE READING
Loving Storm
Teen FictionIn the year 1995, a childhood friendship between one girl and two boys becomes complicated as they reach their teen years. Hudson Walker wears his heart on his sleeve while Jack Foster keeps his under lock and key, so much so it's existence is quest...
