[Str8]
Almost drunk and a little high, I was lying across the smooth back seat of my boyfriend’s borrowed white Caprice Classic. My body relaxed, I let my eyes lose focus, surrendering to the symphony of road sounds reverberating through the soft leather. It was raining very lightly—enough for the water to have a voice in the chorus.
I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. Out of defiance toward my mother, of course. My entire relationship with Josh was, in fact, an act of defiance. A clear “fuck you” to my parents for their unhappiness and subsequent divorce.
I couldn’t remember how I got relegated to the back seat. His friend must have called shotgun. He was talking animatedly while Josh pretended to listen. His greasy blonde head appeared just over the driver’s side head rest, and every so often, he caught my eyes in the rearview mirror.
It was those eyes and that smug grin that first got me. He was that guy who looked like he had a secret you wanted to know. A secret you should know. I was determined find out what it was from the moment I met him.