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WHEN YOU would mention coming to visit Kyle, he absolutely demanded that he would take you on drives with him; in his words, it was a “necessity”. You always laughed—you knew he had a car, worked real hard for it himself and you knew he was proud of it, as this car was his first big purchase. You didn’t see any pictures of the car during your conversations as Kyle claimed you needed to see “the beauty in person”. You imagined yourself pushing the side of his head annoyedly from his stubbornness, making you laugh a bit harder than usual.
What you did not expect is when he came to pick you up from the airport, he arrived in a shiny red convertible. A “2004 Cadillac XLR” is what Kyle said. The interior was well taken care of, the seats were nice and you admit the area surrounding the gear knob being wood was an.. Interesting choice—Kyle told you to take that back, being possessive of his car—but he helped you put his bags in the trunk, and told you to hop in with his classic grin you’ve never gotten sick of.
“Better buckle up, love.” Kyle smirked whilst he clicked in his own seatbelt and adjusted his overhead mirror. You made a face while trying to hold in your laugh which he looked at you and tsk’d, and he swat your arm with the back of his hand. “C’mon, let me have a bit of fun, yeah?” Kyle uttered, which caused you to laugh. You buckled yourself into the passenger’s seat and he started his car.
He turned his headlights on as it was night time and he pulled out of the airport parking lot. You turned on the radio, but you didn’t turn it up too loud. You glanced at him a couple of times as he drove down the road with a mischievous expression; one that widened each time you looked at him. “Kyle..” You said, your voice laced with a warning tone. “What?” Kyle laughed, his thumb tapping against the steering wheel to the beat of the song that was on—it was Foxey Lady by Jimi Hendrix if you recall right—and you pursed your lips together. “I’m not doin’ anything, sweets.”
You raised an eyebrow and let out an “mhm”, where you clearly did not believe him. The wind blew against your skin as the car went down twists and turns. The car began to slow, approached a red light, pulling up beside another car. You don’t remember the car’s brand, but you do remember that Kyle pointed the car out to you. A familiar song started to play on the radio and your eyes widened when you heard Kyle’s deep chuckle, and you watched as his hand grabbed his gear knob. Your heart dropped to your stomach because he was going to do what he told you he would.
“Kyle, I sweAR TO GOD—” You yell the light turned green, and Kyle bursted out laughing as he revved the car to the redline. What scared you worse is that the car you were next to did the exact same thing. You’re suddenly slammed into your seat as the car takes off down the long stretch of road, which caused you to swear and you desperately grabbed onto anything and everything. “Kyle, ohmygod, you son of a bitch—” You snarled out of fear as you looked in your side mirror, the other car’s headlights rapidly leaving your view. Kyle couldn’t stop laughing as his engine roared, but you were sure your heart was pounding louder than his damn car.
This is one luxury you don’t really have anymore now that Kyle’s in the military. He’s gone all the time. Yes, he still owns that old, red convertible—but it’s in a storage unit. Your heart hurts when the familiar song plays on the radio because you know he’s across the goddamn world and isn’t with you to laugh about him scaring the everliving shit out of you.
You pull up into a gated parking lot that held storage units, singing along to the song that’s playing on your radio. “Hear my motor screamin’ while I’m tearin’ up the street..”