The girl, with wild maroon-brown curls, brushed her hair back, revealing her side profile previously hidden behind the mass of thick locks.

He blinked at the pair of owlish eyes coupled with sweeping eyelashes staring right in his—they were liquid gold.

Zeland's glassy gaze travelled, noticing the high arch of her nose that hinted a European heritage, and the minute pair of lips dyed cherry-pink from the chilly air lifting into the tiniest of grins.

She looked young, around his age.

Zeland leant back, his toxically laid back nature flaring had him dumping her drenched handbag on her lap with a yawn, and proceeded to settle into his seat, arms folded and eyes closed, all ready and welcome for a quick wink to embrace him.

Eyes closed, he sighed, waiting for the luscious lull of sleep to hit him. He had to make up his lack of sleep the previous night, or, this morning, but the wave of lethargy never hit regardless of how mentally exhausted he was.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Zeland had bad habits, one of them being his erratic sleep patterns; his sleeping patterns had problems, lots of problems, and the after effects of a lack of sleep was wrecking his clarity of mind. Perhaps that would explain his current I-don't-give-two-dipshits-you-hijacked-my-taxi mood, and the fact that he had been planning to sum all this up as a friendly carpooling with a stranger. Mm-hmm, yes it was.

With temperature akin to icicles, her chilled fingers seizing his hand had him opening his eyes. And before he knew it, she was twisting his arm her way, pulling him towards her.

Brows dipping at their new close proximity, he found it unsettling, no, icy actually.

She was drenched, still dripping with water. Pressed against her hair and shoulder, he could feel the cold rain seeping into his bubble, chasing away any remnants of sleep weighing down his lids.

How lovely. He absolutely did not need to sleep right now.

"What time is it." She asks regally despite being the one all clasped around his watch.

He bent, peering past her tangled locks. "Five thirty-seven." It was still early—he regretted waking up this morning. He should have ignored that ass Xavier and continued sleeping.

A hummed reply, and the grip on his hand released. He leaned back, returning to his side of the seat, where a hefty scoop of space separated the two.

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last edited: 16.04.18