🎧🎶 "Wayamaya - Lana Del Rey"

Not far from the town, a few miles, there was nothing more than a few old farms, the sun scorching, one or another flag hoisted in the sky, some neighbors' trailer, loud music on the local radio.

You look at the road through the open window, from time to time you turn to see Joel, who is driving in silence and rests the arm with which he drives on the frame of the open window on his side and on the other he has his heavy hand on your thigh, caressing it in a simple and light way, only withdrawing when he uses the lever.

It's your third getaway of the week, apparently what started as an impossible fantasy about your dad's friend, was now an almost full year long adventure of sneaking away with him, spending the summer together, visiting motels and hitting the roads. Who knew you would end up having a count of how many 7elevens there were in your town.

You knew what was happening was wrong, you had it in mind, but Joel made it look so simple, as if he took all your worries and assumed them himself, while he just made sure that you enjoyed everything he could give you until you had to return home and pretend that you weren't secretly sleeping with your father's best friend...

You looked at Joel and memorized his features, his forearms exposed by having the sleeves of his shirt folded. Because his veins were popping, his hands looked massive compared to yours. You couldn't stop thinking and cursing yourself how unfair it was that the damn older man was so attractive. Sometimes you fantasized about kicking his ass because of how hot he was. It was irritating and exciting at the same time, with him you wished your summer getaways would never end.

He turned around and noticed you were staring, he just snort soft and half smirk but remained stoic like always, gruff.

"watcha' starin at?... like what ya see, darlin'?"

Asked with that raspy low texan accent, like a soft purr out of his tongue meanwhile still driving looking foward the road.