A/N: So this was a little writing exercise I did from 'The Cambridge Companion to Creative Writing'. I hope you like it.

A Flat Tyre

"The back tyre's flat." Ronnie grunted. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye as he carried on driving. His cigarette hung out of the corner of his mouth and his left arm was slung over the back of the chair, behind me. His right arm leaned on the windowless door of the automobile. English countryside, green and in all of its glory flashed alongside us as we drove. "The back tyre's flat," I repeated a little louder.

"Yeah, I know." Ronnie spoke and he didn't look at me, and I shifted in the chair impatiently until Ronnie pulled over into a small pull-in, and rolled to a stop. Ronnie braked with a loud creak and switched the engine off.

Suddenly there was silence as the rumble of the engine died down, and then I heard the soft sounds of birds in the trees over the hedge and cows lowing in the near distance. A butterfly fluttered past, wings beating the air.

"Now what?" I asked. Ronnie shrugged.

"Dunno." He leaned back and tilted his head up, taking in a deep puff of the cigarette. He exhaled the smoke out of his mouth and watched as it floated away. I frowned at him, irritated.

"Well, we can't just sit here. We've got to do something."

"There's nothing we can do. No spare tyre." Ronnie didn't sound worried at all. I humphed and crossed my arms.

"There's bound to be something we can do." I fixed him with a steely glare, but Ronnie didn't answer me and he still didn't look at me, and so sticking out my chin I declared that I would get out and 'take a look'.

"Suit yourself." Ronnie shrugged again, and took another puff. Cringing as I pulled my legs away from the hot leather of the seat Ronnie turned his head and watched me silently, still smoking. Ugh, he irritated me sometimes.

Jumping over the side of the automobile, hissing as my hands touched the hot metal and wondering how Ronnie managed to bear the touch of it against his uncovered arm I walked around the front of the car, once again unable to stop myself marvelling at its brilliant craftsmanship.

The red MG TC roadster was exquisite in its design; I felt privileged to even touch it. Ronnie was taking it to a rural car show for vintage models and knowing how enamoured I was with anything that even remotely had an engine for a heart he'd taken me along for the ride, as long I'd promised not to let it spill to his employer.

Reverently I ran my hand along the MG's glossy, deep red finish, licking my lips, and then blushed as I spotted Ronnie watching me from over the glass of the front window, gaze unfathomable. Ducking my head I muttered to myself in embarrassment and carefully prized open the bonnet of the car.

"Why the hell are you looking in there?" Ronnie raised an eyebrow, quizzical, and I shot him a glare.

"Sometimes in these old cars spare tyres are kept under the hood." I checked and there was nothing there. Nada. Just a collection of beautiful, sleek, interlocking parts.

Ronnie rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but not in this car."

Obviously. "Thanks for telling me that." Idiot. Ronnie remained silent.

Shutting up the hood I wiped my hands on my jacket and looked around, a soft breeze ruffling my hair. The small country lane we were in was winding and but not narrow, bordered on both sides with twisting, overgrown green-stuff. The hedges were so low that you could see over the tops to the grassy fields beyond, their borders punctuated every fifty metres or so with rusty old farmer's gates. The sky was an undiluted blue, the rich, deep colour it could only be when there wasn't a cloud in sight and the sun was so bright you had to shade your eyes. It was hot, too.

"Oi, get back here." Ronnie called as I began to wander off down the lane.

"I'm just looking around. You never know, we might find someone out hereā€¦" Someone to help, I thought. If we didn't get a move on then we could be late.

"Why would we need that?" I didn't turn around as I heard a light thump on the ground. Like me Ronnie had swung himself over the automobile door and jumped to the ground. I looked back at him just as he came up to me and casually slung an arm around my shoulder, taking another deep swig of his little poison stick. I leaned back into his embrace.

"Maybe another car will come by?" I asked hopefully.

"Most likely not," Ronnie snorted, dropping his cigarette on the ground and grinding it out with the toe of his boot. "We're in the middle of nowhere."

I looked up at him fearfully. "What if we don't make it in time for the show?" Ronnie squeezed me by shoulder and looked at me in amusement.

"I don't think that'll be a problem, you know." His free hand came up to tilt my chin towards his. He pressed a smoky kiss to my mouth.

I pushed away from him, glaring. "This isn't a joke!" We had to get the MG to the car show or Ronnie would likely lose his job!

Ronnie laughed. "Hey, hey, calm down baby." He rummaged around in a pocket and drew out something hidden in his palm. "I have this, you know." Ronnie held his mobile phone up, waggling it between his finger and thumb.

I gasped, and raised my voice. "You idiot! You had that all along?!"

Ronnie almost smiled as he nimbly stepped out of my reach, dodging as I grabbed for it. As I overreached and unbalanced, Ronnie laughed and caught me as I fell against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and I glared up at him, growling. The mobile phone dug into my back. "You were the one who never thought to ask."

"Why didn't you call anyone as soon as we parked up?"

Ronnie smiled at me, eyes warm and bright. "I thought it would be nice to spend a little time out here with you, babe."

"You idiot." I rolled my eyes, but couldn't stop the grin that worked its way onto my face.

Ronnie pressed another kiss to my lips. I kissed him back. "Yeah, but you love me."


A/N: A review is much loved, and will be returned x