Chapter 9 #2
That night, my attention had been locked on Cherry’s drugged body slumped in the back seat.
There hadn’t been room for anything else.
Now, with no crisis stealing my focus, the car felt different.
The leather. The dashboard. The quiet hum of luxury.
I took a breath, pushing down the uncomfortable thought that this was probably the closest I’d ever come to something like this.
“Where are we going?” I asked once he slid into the driver’s seat.
He pressed a button on the dash, the engine roaring to life beneath us.
He didn’t look at me as he reversed out of my driveway, only let out a small chuckle.
I watched him drive, my gaze catching on something that made my stomach tighten just slightly.
He hadn’t buckled his seatbelt. I had. Like I always did. Like he should have.
“Austin,” I muttered. The shift in my tone made him glance over at me immediately, his eyes scanning my face like he was bracing for bad news. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it. “You have to wear a seatbelt.”
“What?” He laughed. “Why?”
“What do you mean why?” I stared at him. “To save your life, obviously.”
“Nah, Yellow.” He sounded almost amused, like my concern was a novelty. “I’ve never worn it before. I’m not starting now.”
“No,” I said, firmer than I intended. “That’s not okay. Put it on.”
“Oooh,” Austin teased, his mouth tugging upward. “I don’t think I’ve heard you be quite so bossy before.”
It only made my frustration spike. Didn’t he realize he was treating his own life like it was optional? “We’re all fine until we’re not,” I said quietly. “Your life is worth more than the inconvenience of a seatbelt.”
That made him pause. I watched his expression soften, the teasing edge fading as he kept his eyes on the road. “Is it?”
“Of course it is,” I said without hesitation. “Your life is worth everything.”
For a moment, I wasn’t sure if he’d listen. Then he nodded once, reached across his body with his free hand, and pulled the seatbelt over his chest, the click echoing softly through the car. “Anything for you, Yellow.”
The rest of the drive passed in a comfortable quiet.
Austin drummed his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the rock song playing, while I watched the road stretch ahead of us, my gaze flicking back to him every so often.
I could be wrong, but it felt like the farther we went, the more something in him shifted.
Like his confidence was thinning, just slightly.
By the time the city had faded completely and the countryside surrounded us, it felt like we’d been driving for far longer than we actually had. Austin finally slowed, pulling off onto the side of the road.
He turned to me with a half smile. “Ready?”
“I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to be ready for,” I laughed, though I felt calm. Not nervous. Not afraid. Austin had a way of settling everything in me, like a lullaby that erased every emotion except peace.
He stepped out of the car, and I followed.
Instead of his hand finding the small of my back like it usually did, he took my hand in his.
He led me toward the line of trees bordering the road, the world changing beneath my feet as concrete gave way to earth.
We didn’t walk far. And I didn’t need to ask what he’d brought me to see.
A waterfall lay before us. It wasn’t tall or thunderous.
It didn’t crash down with force or demand attention.
It was small, tucked into the landscape like it belonged there, like it had always been waiting to be found.
And somehow, that only made it more beautiful.
The air hummed with the sound of rushing water, steady and calming.
A fine mist clung to my skin, cool and fresh, filling my lungs with something clean and alive. It felt like a quiet kind of magic.
“A waterfall?” I turned to Austin, disbelief woven through the word.
I was stunned by its beauty, but even more by what it revealed about him.
This wasn’t what I would have expected. He’d said it was my instinct to surprise him, but standing here, it felt like he carried that same instinct with me.
Like he understood how to offer something unexpected, something gentle.
“A waterfall,” he confirmed, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then he looked at me, really looked at me “I’m just showing you what you deserve.” The words didn’t echo. They settled.
I held my breath as his words settled into me.
My eyes lingered on his face for only a fraction of a second before I turned back toward the rushing water.
There were two reasons I did it, and the first was self-preservation.
I didn’t want him to see the blush blooming across my cheeks, heating my skin like dry kindling catching flame.
His words had been small, almost casual.
Just a spark. But sparks were dangerous things. They burned anyway.
The second reason was simpler. The waterfall demanded my attention.
My eyes followed the water as it spilled downward, tracing the soft, steady motion of it as it slipped over jagged stone like it knew this was the only way forward.
I couldn’t see where it ended. I didn’t know where it was headed.
But I imagined wherever it landed had to be just as beautiful as where we stood now.
“Is this a special place to you?” I asked, hoping he would follow the shift I was offering. Hoping he would let the conversation drift away from the way his words were making my chest feel too tight and too light all at once. The nervousness he pulled from me was thrilling. It was also terrifying.
“Why do you do that?” Austin asked instead. He didn’t follow me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him step closer.
“What?” I asked, even though I already felt the change in the air.
He was beside me now, close enough that I could sense him without touching him.
I still didn’t look at him, even though my body wanted to.
Even though my eyes begged to. Austin was intimidating in a way that had nothing to do with his height or his looks.
There was something else about him. An energy that felt charged, like getting too close might shock me.
“I’ve noticed something,” he said, his voice calm, almost thoughtful. He stepped closer again, not crowding me, just enough that his presence pressed against mine. “Whenever I compliment you, or tell you how I feel, you shut yourself down.”
I turned slightly, startled. “What? No I don’t.”
“You do,” he said easily, not accusing, just certain. “When we’re talking about anything else, you’re wide open. There’s nothing guarding you. But the second I tell you how beautiful you are, or the things I want to do for you, these barriers come up.”
“I wasn’t aware I was putting up any barriers,” I said carefully. It wasn’t the full truth. I knew that the moment the words left my mouth.
“Maybe not walls,” he continued, a faint trace of smugness slipping into his tone. “I can still see you. Maybe fences. Thin ones. But they’re there.” I swallowed. “I want to know why,” he said gently. “You do know you’re beautiful, right, Yellow?”
The question wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t flirtation. It was sincere. And somehow, that made it far more dangerous. The nervousness in my stomach swelled, like a bathtub with the tap left running too long. I pressed my lips together before answering.
“I guess so,” I said, doing my best to be honest.
“There’s no guessing,” Austin said immediately. I startled when his hand lifted toward me, but only for a second. He gently brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear instead. The touch was careful. Intentional.
“You’re beautiful,” he said quietly. “And you deserve to hear it.” His hand slid from my hair to my shoulder, his palm warm against my bare skin.
Slowly, he let it travel down my arm until it reached my elbow.
With a gentle pressure, he guided me to turn toward him.
I let myself move. When I finally met his eyes, the sincerity there stopped me short.
There was no performance in his expression.
No expectation. Just the truth. “So why?” he asked softly.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. The honesty surprised me as much as it seemed to surprise him. “Maybe…” I searched for the words, for the root of it. “Maybe I’m used to hearing those things when the person saying them wants something from me.”
“I don’t want anything from you,” he said without hesitation. “I just want you to hear it.”
“I think I know that,” I replied. And I did. Somewhere deep inside me, Austin felt different. “I guess that’s why it feels more intense when you say it.”
He nodded slowly, like the answer mattered. “I don’t want you to do that, Yellow. I don’t want you to pull away when I make you nervous.” His mouth curved slightly, the smallest hint of a smile breaking through. “I want you to trust me when I compliment you. Because I mean every word.”
I nodded, taking it in, letting it settle instead of pushing it aside. “Okay.”
“Yeah?” His smile came fully then, the seriousness lifting from his face almost instantly. “You trust me?”
I laughed softly, unable to stop myself. The joy on his face was impossible to ignore. “Should I trust you?” I asked. The teasing in my voice was real, but so was the question.
I was trying to stay logical when it came to Austin. I needed my mind to keep up, to separate what was real from what only felt real. Because if my heart had its way, I already knew where I’d be headed.
And while Austin made my skin sing and my stomach feel weightless, I had reasons to be careful.
Valid ones. It was as complicated as what I knew he was involved in, the lighter side of the drugs I hated so much.
But it was simple too. The last time he had spoken words that felt like poems, words that turned me inside out, he had vanished into thin air.