Awful Direction

Her eyes were locked on the back of John’s head, silently watching the wind whip his sandy brown hair in his face as he mindlessly leaned out the window. She could tell, by one look, he wasn’t even paying attention to the road in front of him. His head always seemed to be in different places, but never where it was supposed to be. When people were speaking to him, his eyes held this glazed over look; a sign he was always only half listening. And the few times they didn’t speak to each other, times like this moment now, it was clearly drawn on John’s face that his mind was preoccupied in places outside of reality. Devon had a strong hunch she knew exactly what he was thinking; and he looked almost happy wherever he was.

Devon let out a long sigh as she glanced from the road, to John, and back. The uncertainty bubbling in the back of her mind was driving her insane. She kept her eyes all over the place, searching for any sort of distraction. When John met her gaze with a friendly smile, Devon almost pulled over and threw up her lunch. She was going to hurt him. It was guaranteed, but necessary.

Her fingers were itching to make an illegal U turn and head back home. It killed her to think in a few minutes she’d be one of the first to smack the goofy crooked grin right off John’s face. She didn’t even know how she’d thought of something so brilliantly cruel. Upon hearing the tragic reality of John’s condition from Ketely and Anika, everything sort of cliqued together in her mind all at once. Like puzzle pieces, it all fit together perfectly. However, there was no guarantee this wouldn’t blow up in Devon’s face completely.

Actually, she knew for a fact John would throw a tantrum.

“What are you staring at?” John asked, grinning when he saw Devon looking at him.

Her smile was big, but sad. “You need a haircut,” she lied.

“What are you trying to say, Devon?” John faked hurt. “Do you not find my mullet alluring?”

“It’s greasy,” she snorted.

John blushed, ruffling his hair self-consciously. “It’s not so bad. The fans think it’s sexy.”

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively; Devon couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “Yeah, okay..creep.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you prey on horny, teenage girls.”

“Oh c’mon, Dev,” John cooed, leaning as far as his seatbelt would allow, “You know you want me. Cut it out with this bullshit I-think-of-you-as-a-friend act.”

She chewed on her bottom lip and kept her eyes glued on the road. For godsake he was going to get them killed, Devon could hardly bring herself to concentrate on driving with his eyes gazing all over her body like that. When she wouldn’t look at him, John leaned a little closer and, teasingly, whispered flirtatious words in her ear. It sent shivers running through her spine like electricity. All Devon needed to do was pull over, and turn her head a few inches to the right. Then BAM, their lips would meet. About four inches of air were keeping them apart. Neither of them could spare even a second to smooch though, Devon had to keep her head in the game. One false move and everything could go up in flames.

Everything would go up in flames.

Distract him, a voice in her head cooed, keep his eyes away from the windows.

As if on cue, John asked, “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular,” Devon shrugged, “Just driving.”

“You seem awfully concentrated on the road…”

“Memorizing my surroundings…so we don’t get lost?”

The lies fell so easily from her tongue, she surprised even herself. This wasn’t really her thing; Devon typically didn’t try to help people. Her advice was crap, and she couldn’t even figure out her own problems, she seemed to only be a burden to other people. It was just, she got so caught up in finally being able to relate to someone she was suddenly overwhelmed with the burning intensity to try making a difference. In the end it may do more harm than good, but she needed to try. Quite possibly for both of their sake.

“Ask me a question,” she spoke up suddenly.

John raised an eyebrow, suspiscous of her sudden nervousness, but obliged. “When did you lose your virginity?”

She choked on whatever she had wanted to say. Leave it to John to take this opportunity to learn the most personal aspect of Devon’s life. When she looked away from the road, only for a second, she witnessed a cocky grin slowly stretching across John’s cheeks. Through her reflection in the windshield, she saw her face was colored in the deepest shades of red. Devon wanted nothing more than to beat around the bush and avoid this question altogether, but it was the only way to keep John focused on them; and not what was passing them outside. Whatever it takes, she had told herself. Although she never thought it would come down to confessing her sex life, or lack thereof.

“Are you joking?” she asked, “I give you the opportunity to ask me anything and you choose that?”

He smirked; she wanted to smack it right off his face. “You told me to ask you a question. I asked one. What did I do wrong?”

“A girl’s sex life is personal, John!”

“I take it this means you’re a virgin.”

“W-what?” If possible, the blush on her cheeks deepened.

“If you had sex before, you would just tell me about it. But since you haven’t, you’re embarrassed and are avoiding the question. Am I right?”

Like a child, Devon stuck out her tongue and glared at the road. She wondered what exactly made John so professional about this topic. Until now, she’d never even noticed how attractive he really was. Of course, upon meeting him she’d thought he was cute, but looking at him now there didn’t appear to be a single flaw in his entire physique. He was skinny, obnoxiously so, but he pulled it off. His skin was smooth, and sun-kissed from the Arizona heat. His hair fell all over the place, because he never took care of it, but it looked almost intentional. John clearly lacked proper personal hygiene, but on a guy like him it looked so natural. For two months Devon had been spending time with one of the most striking young men she’d ever laid eyes on, and never once noticed. His sex life was probably way more active than hers ever was. All he had to do was run his hands through his hair and girls swooned at his feet.

“Fine,” she snapped, “I’m a virgin. Fucking happy?”

“How?” John asked, appearing sincerely surprised.

Devon tried not to smile. “What do you mean how? I’ve just never had sex.”

“Yeah, I got that,” he rolled his eyes, “I mean how has no guy ever asked you before?”

“I don’t understand why you’re so surprised.”

“Well,” John’s face suddenly turned bright red, “I mean, you’re cute. That’s not even the right word…you’re just beautiful, I guess. It’s surprising to hear other guys don’t think so.”

Devon couldn’t help the grin now adorning her face. She usually didn’t handle compliments very well, but the way John said it made her almost believe him. With every word he spoke, John didn’t let his gaze leave Devon’s. She was lost in his bright, green pools. They were so close she could see the little brown specks hiding behind the shades of emerald. As he nervously waited for her reply, Devon found herself slowly breaking on the inside. He was so kind to her, nicer in the last two months than anyone in twenty years, and all she could do to thank him was shove his biggest fears down his throat. Everything that was building up inside of him—the anger, the sadness, the constant need clawing at his throat—Devon saw it. She didn’t know why he’d ever force himself to feel such terrible things, but she knew if someone didn’t smack some sense into him John would be lost.

She was growing more and more tangled in the web she was weaving. The closer Devon drew to her destination, the tighter the grip around her neck became. She had to keep her lips moving, in order to prevent a violent panic attack. “Well, thanks for the compliment. But I’m a virgin by choice.”

“Oh god, please don’t tell me your one of those prude Catholic bitches.”

“Jesus, no. I just don’t see the point in ripping off my dress for every guy I like.”

“So you’re picky?”

“In a nutshell, yes.”

“Well, what do you look for in a guy?” John asked, out of curiosity.

She paused to think. No one had ever asked her before, not even her dad. “Uhm, I mean I like it when we can talk. Without it getting awkward, I mean. I like when we can talk about anything. Our problems, politics, music, hell even our virginity. Things you and me talk about, I like being able to do that. If we can talk, then I don’t see us not being able to do anything else. I’d like to go out with them, to weird places. Places no one can bother us. Like 8123, I really liked it when you took me there and let me scream at the top of my lungs. Small things like that, I want to be able to do with a potential boyfriend,” she paused and shrugged simply, “Basically, I’d have sex with a guy like you.”

They left it at that. Not because it was uncomfortable, but simply because it was a good place to let the conversation go. Devon held onto this moment—the radio softly playing, the wind blowing through the windows, smiles on both of their faces—for as long as she could and burned it into her memory. They were so close to their destination, and god knows what would happen then. She didn’t know what side of John she’d see when she broke through his barriers. And so she clung to their last five minutes together in her car, so in the future she could remember—at one point—John O’Callaghan wasn’t such a bad guy.

As the car pulled onto a gravel road, and passed a pair of slick, black gates, Devon watched John’s face go pale through her peripheral vision. The smile, as she predicted, disappeared as if it had never existed and John’s face contorted in agony.

Part one of her plan was a success: Shatter John’s hard exterior.