I relax in my too-far-forward driver's seat. The engine is off, and the outside's cold creeps in. I take a sip of my latte. I ordered a mocha, but I don't feel like complaining tonight, not with you by my side. My playlist makes decent background noise as we talk endlessly about work and our pasts. Your past is infinitely fascinating, bright and full of good memories. I try not to choke on my trauma. "I'd give anything to go back to high school," you say, as I shudder at the mere mention of the idea. One good thing came from my high school experience, and that's my best friend. I don't say this out loud. I smile, nod and listen as you tell your stories about hiding ***** in the drainage and getting stranded in Shropshire. Your eyes are alight with mischief and delight as you remember the good times you shared. I **** my head and watch you talk to me. Silence falls as you finish your story. You look at me expecting a response, an anecdote of my own. I'm too busy doting upon you to notice.
We open our mouths at the same time, both of us attempting to speak, and falling over each other to let the other talk first. We pause, intending to let the other tell their tale, before the giggles erupt. My coffee is gone, but you haven't touched yours. "I can't drink it hot like you do, I don't have a titanium tongue."
"Actually, it's more like asbestos."
We go quiet, enjoying each other's company silently. It lasts all of five seconds, unfortunately, as you complain about my music taste. You're right, it has been all over the place. Rammstein plays in the background.
"No wonder you're an angry driver, with music like this." I chuckle, as you haven't seen half of my road attitude problems. Laughing at your own joke, you spill coffee down yourself.
"Did you get any on my seatbelt?" I can't show too much concern, though I worry he may have burned himself.
"Nah, don't worry, I didn't scald myself, thanks,"
"And what if you had done, do you expect me to kiss it better?" We made eye contact. Neither of us say anything. I break first. Any kind of eye contact is intense for me, but looking you dead in the eye is like looking into the scorching sun. I try not to let my face burn up, and glance down at the dashboard display.
a real interaction between a friend and myself
