Page 94 of After All This Time

I sit down on the gray-colored fabric chair. The length of half of a basketball court is in front of me. That’s what it feels like at least.

He sits down on the passenger seat, as I search for the bar to slide my seat forward.

His eyes plant themselves on me all while studying my face. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m trying to find the stupid adjustment bar thing. It’s not underneath the seat.”

He notices the frustration growing on my face, but doesn’t fail to laugh at me in the process. “The adjuster is located on the side of the seat, not underneath it.” A smug smile appears on his face.

“Well, look at you, Mr. Fancy Pants.”

He’s holding in a laugh. All grins and no big smiles. I can tell he’s struggling because his lips are quivering. He folds his arms underneath his broad chest, muscles bulging.

Why is every inch of his body so muscular? It’s so annoying. And distracting as hell.

I press and hold the black engine button for a few seconds, pushing my foot down on the brake pedal to start the car.

“I’m impressed you know how to start my car.”

My tongue sticks up to the roof of my mouth. I proceed to bite down on my bottom lip. “Oh, shut the hell up. I’ll have you know my dad had a car just like this one.”

“Then, you should know where the mechanism is to move up the seat. Isn’t that right, Princess?” Sarcasm breaks through his voice which makes me grin like an idiot.

I turn my head towards him slightly.

“Eyes on the road!” he shouts, gesturing to the view in front of us.

“My eyes are on the road. You’re distracting me!”

You’re always distracting me.

I can see him wetting his lips out of the corner of my eye. “What if I told you I enjoy distracting you?”

He thinks he’s so smooth, but it’s not working for him this time.

We’re on Sunset Cove Boulevard, overlooking the ocean which is to the left of us.

Even though this window is closed, I can smell and taste the salty ocean air. Tall palm trees scatter the sides of the road.

We pass a couple of neighborhoods on the way home. Breakwater, a neighborhood full of manufactured homes. Lighthouse Estates, the neighborhood for the wealthy, is further down the street.

Silence fills up the car like water filling up an inflatable pool.

We haven’t talked since we left the hospital. I used to live for moments like this with Noah, but I absolutely hate it now.

After passing the clear blue ocean, we make it to our subdivision, Crystal Harbor. I bear right, turning into our community. Tall palm trees divide both sides of the road in a straight vertical line.

Pulling into Noah’s driveway, I shift the gear into park.

We sit in the car for a few minutes. Noah’s beautiful eyes are drilling a hole through the side of my head.

“Can I help you, sir?” I whip my head to properly face him, meeting his gaze.

He squints his eyes, unbuckling his seatbelt. Leaning his elbows onto the medium gray console, he places the palms of his hands on his cheeks. “Can I admire your beauty without comments or questions from the Peanut Gallery?” He moves his hand to his lips, brushing them with his thumb and index finger.

Who are you calling the Peanut Gallery, dipshit?

Heavy breathing takes over until Noah’s eyes wander to my lips, leaving me breathless.

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