SHORT SUMMARY— You’re working late at an antique shop during a snowstorm when a stranded guy needs help. You bring him inside, share ramen, music, and awkward small talk and the night slowly turns into something unexpectedly intense.
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Drive You Insane — Daniel di Angelo
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Dear diary, I couldn’t say it was a day like any other. The snow cut down outside as I watched from the glass of the local antique store where I worked. The pay isn’t too crazy, but it’s sufficient to help me pay the bills. It’s slightly rundown, with a wooden aroma surrounding the area.
I turned away from the glass, but before I could make a full turn I heard a loud bang. Startled, I turned to see a van that had crashed into a light pole across from the street.
Concerned, I grab my keys and jacket, locking the doors before I make my way across the street into the windy weather that presented itself. The sudden breeze that hit my neck made me catch chills. I briefly regretted my decision, but a sudden ting of sympathy made me shake off the regretfulness of my empathetic decision.
I walked over to the passenger side to see a boy. His hair reached his mid back or shoulders, and he was wearing somewhat odd clothing. I brushed it off as I soft knocked on his window. As he’s rolling it down, I can hear him mumbling cusses under his breath. He looks at me with tired eyes, in clear distress of his situation.
“Hey uh… do you need some help?” you ask softly.
“Uh, no, no,” his hood pops open on comedic timing, giving him a faint change of heart.
“I can fix this. I’m a mechanic.” He nervously picks up his toolbox from the passenger seat, swinging it around in his hand, forcing a painful-looking smile. You slightly scoff at his fake enthusiasm to work in minus-degree weather. You take a step back, and his smile drops quickly as he gets out of the van to check the hood.
“Carb’s frozen solid. I could maybe thaw it, if it weren’t ten degrees out. Fuck.”
“…whatever that means. Look, I don’t know much about cars, but if you’ve got nowhere to go for tonight, you can stay in my shop until you can thaw your, well, you know,” you say, slightly annoyed at how cold it is and the fact that he’s hesitant to respond.
“So, do you want some help or not?”
“Yeah,” he says, sounding defeated, throwing his head down.
The warm air feels like a relief as we both step into the warm-toned lighted shop. I lock the doors behind us and take off my jacket and set it on the table.
He stands there awkwardly, staring at something on the wall as I raise an eyebrow.
“Sooo… what’s your name?” I say, trying to make conversation.
“E-Eddie,” he says, stuttering over his words. “And yours?”
I walk a bit closer to him, curious as to why he’s acting weird.
“Are you alright? Did you get injured in the car wreck?” you say, concerned.
“No… no, I’m good,” he says, nodding his head, looking down, and… biting his hair?
I wasn’t too convinced but decided to leave it alone. I put a hand on my hip and sighed.
“You hungry? I can make you something in the break room.”
“Mmkay,” I say as I smack my lips and make my way to the room. I open the door and stop before I go inside. I turn around and lean against the door frame just to see him standing around like a lost puppy, looking at the wall again.
“OH, uh, yeah,” he says, surprised for some reason, as he makes his way behind me. I chuckle under my breath as I walk into the break room.
I get some ramen noodles in the microwave and lean against the counter waiting for them to finish.
The only sound in the room is the microwave humming.
We both shift awkwardly and I bite my lip, preparing to make conversation.
“So,” we say at the same time.
“So, where are you coming from?”
“Hawkins. It’s not too far from here. Stayed late hanging out with my club. Probably shouldn’t have…” he says as he crosses his arms.
“Hey, uh… that guitar out there, in the main room. Is that yours?”
I shake my head. “Nah. Belongs to the place. People mess with it sometimes on breaks.”
His mouth quirks into a grin.
“Figures. I saw it and thought, ‘No way they just leave that sittin’ around.’”
“Do I play?” He laughs under his breath. “Yeah. Kinda my whole thing.”
He leans back against the counter, eyes still bright with the thought.
“Mind if I try it after this? Just to see what kind of sad, lonely life it’s been through.”
I snort. “Sure. As long as you don’t break it.”
“Please. I respect guitars more than I respect most people,” he says lightly.
The microwave beeps, sharp and sudden, but neither of us jumps.
The room doesn’t feel so awkward anymore.
“Hey. You want something to drink?”
He looks up. “Like soda?”
I shake my head. “No. I keep a bottle for when I get overwhelmed by annoying customers. It’s a hidden one.”
“Well, well. Rebel,” he says as he throws up rock-star hands.
I reach behind the stack of boxes and pull out the bottle. I set it on the table.
We pass it back and forth. Small sips turn into bigger ones. The night feels less awkward. We talk. We laugh. Somehow Eddie ends up with the guitar and sits on the floor.
He strums a goofy melody.
IF LOVE PAID HOURLY I’D STILL BE BROKEEEE BUT I’D SPEND MY CHECK ON YOU RAMEN AND MAYBE COKEEEE!!” he sings, slurring his words along the way.
I press my hand over my mouth and start laughing.
He finishes and bows like he is onstage. He almost tips over.
He sets the guitar aside and leans against the wall. His cheeks are warm. His hair falls in his face. The laughter fades into a soft buzz.
“You’re so fun. Why were you so shy before?”
He thinks for a second, then snorts.
“I just don’t know how to talk to pretty girls.”
Truthfully, I never considered myself pretty, so I was taken aback.
He groans and covers his face.
“Yep. That’s the alcohol talking. But it’s not lying.”
I walk closer to him and look him in the eyes.
“You think I’m pretty?” you say with beady eyes.
He takes a deep gulp and pauses, then shakes his head before answering. He swallows. His throat bobs. He hesitates like he wants to run and stay at the same time. Then he nods.
“U-uh… y-yeah.” His voice cracks. “Yeah. I do.”
I study him for a second. He can’t even look at me. His fingers fidget. His foot taps.
And it’s kind of adorable.
“You could’ve just said that,” I whisper.
He finally meets my eyes.
We stand there, too close, doing nothing… but also everything.
I reach up and gently tug his hands away from his face.
“Thanks,” I say softly. “For being honest.”
He laughs under his breath. “You make it sound like I confessed to a crime.”
I smile. “Maybe you did.”
A beat passes. His gaze drops to my lips, then flicks back to my eyes like he didn’t mean to.
He leans in a little, then stops.
“I… don’t wanna mess this up,” he murmurs.
“You’re not,” I whisper back.
I close the space between us, crashing our lips together in a sloppy drunk kiss.
He pulls away softly and looks me in the eyes.
“Are you sure this is okay… d-do you want this…?”
I push your body up against him and feel his hard-on.
“I do and I know you do too.”
I put a finger on his chest and look him in the eyes.
“I want you to take me right here,” your eyes flicker to his, “and right now.”
For a moment he just stares at me, stunned, as the words hit him straight in the heart. Then his mouth curves into a slow, nervous smile.
He cups my face gently and kisses me again, deeper now, but carefully, like he’s terrified of breaking the moment. Then his arms move around my waist and he lifts me with surprising ease, setting me on the counter.
I hook my hands behind his neck.
He steps between my knees.
We kiss again, harder, hungrier, messier. The world blurs into the taste of him and the feel of his hands and the atmosphere of the dimly lit break room around us.
He pauses, not pulling away, just searching my face.
“Where?” he asks, breathless and careful.
I laugh under my breath. Instead of answering, I take his hand gently and slide it down until it rests on my inner thigh near my wetness.
“Here,” I whisper seductively.
His fingers tense for a second, like he’s making sure this is real. Then he relaxes, his thumb brushing slowly over my skin as he leans back in to kiss me again, slower, steadier, more intentional.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against my mouth.
He unbuttons my Sergio jeans as he looks up at me one more time for confirmation. I nod as he looks back down and slides a finger into my panties, feeling the wetness that built up from the previous makeout session.
I throw my head back in a low, closed-mouth moan and perk my hips up against his finger.
“Like that,” he whispers nervously. “Does that feel good?”
You nod, biting your lip.
“Yeah, that feels good,” you say, panting from riding his finger.
“More,” you say in a low, breathy tone.
He gets the gist as he adds another finger, making you widen your mouth and hold onto his shoulder, and he pumps his two fingers into you at a steady pace.
He shifts uncomfortably from the growing hardness edging to get out of his jeans, focusing on his fingers dripping wet with your juices and your sweet moans that he’s proud of being the cause of.
He fingers you harder and sloppier, getting lost in the melody of your voice and the softness of your pussy. You feel a tight knot build up in your stomach while you continue grinding up against his veiny hands as he sings praises in your ear.
You bite your lip in an attempt to hide the high-pitched moan as you release all over his hands.
He pulls his hands out of your panties, and you both sit there panting for a moment, foreheads pressed together.
You hop off the counter, still holding onto him.
Your hand reaches down to his jeans, playing with the button.
“May I?” you ask politely.
“Be my guest, I mean, if you want to,” he laughs nervously.
You smile softly and unbutton his pants. He leans into you as you reach your hands into his boxers, pulling out his throbbing hard length and stroking him softly.
He moans softly into your neck. You start using one hand to play with his hair as you stroke him with your other. He holds onto the counter for support as he feels you pulling him closer with every motion.
He whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut, barely able to speak a sentence as you grip him firmly. You stop suddenly, leaving him a sweaty, whimpering mess as he finally catches his breath.
“Did I do something?” he questions as he pulls away and looks at you.
He blinks, but he doesn’t say anything. He obeys as he sits on the floor. You get down with him and straddle him, feeling his dick against your thigh, his tip having a slight blush to it.
“Can I ride you, Eddie?” you say, slurring your words.
The sentence hits him like a bus. He can’t get out a word, so instead he nods nervously, moving his hair out of his face.
You lift to line him up with your entrance and look him in the eyes as you slowly go down, feeling his tip slide in your wet pussy. You both moan in unison. You sit down fully, slightly wetting his pelvic area.
He grabs your face and pulls you into a sloppy kiss. Your tongues explore each other’s mouths as you taste the alcohol in each other’s saliva.
He leans backward, lying almost completely on his back with his elbow holding up his upper body, pulling you in with him, causing you to lift back up again. You put a hand on his chest as you sit back down, squeezing around his throbbing wet shaft.
He bites his lip as he puts a hand on your hip. You continue to sink, moving forward and backward, wet noises filling the room with messy moans, slapping skin, and slurring words. Your walls clench around his dick as his tip rubs against your cervix, causing you to let out strangled moans and quivering breaths.
He thrusts into you rapidly, letting out guttural moans as tears stream down his cheek. You feel him twitch in you as he brushes his hair back. He perks his hips up one final time as he releases into your pussy.
You both sit there in the hot moment as you lift, revealing the wet mess you both created. You lay your head against his chest, both panting as your head moves up and down with his breathing.
Silence falls over you both until he breaks the tension.
“H-hey, uh… I don’t do one-night stands. Can we maybe uh… see each other again sometime, if you’d like,” he says in between breaths.
You look up at him, half-lidded.
“I’d like that. I’d like that very much,” you say, laying your head back down on his chest.
“Those noodles must be soggy now.”
You laugh at his randomness.
“Yeah. Yeah, they must be.”
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