Page 54 of Hunted

Not that I…don’t.

Or someday won’t.

Or can’t.

Or…what the fuck is wrong with me?

Did I inhale too much motor oil this morning?

Why am I always struggling so hard to read this chick’s warranty manual.

Bunny tucks her pen into her high bun to hang out with the Mickey Mouse one that’s already taken up residency. “You gonna tell me why you needed me down here or what?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Grabbing a fresh car rag occurs on my way back to the front of the vehicle. “I mean it’s not like this shit happens every day.”

Bewilderment rapidly reappears on her face as she curiously leans forward. “What shit?”

“Movie shit.”

“What?!”

“You know where an inanimate object-”

“So many syllables for you.”

“-comes to life like Herbie.”

“The Love Bug?”

“Or Christine, which is technically a love story masquerading as a horror movie.”

“Yeah, totally, the wrong takeaway from that film, Kid.”

“Or KITT from Knight Rider, but he’s autonomous A.I. not actually sentient-”

“Sounds like someone’s been studying for his SATs.”

“-but like the basic principle comparison still stands.”

“Wow,” Bunny whispers out between snickers, “you really do love cars.”

“Movies, TV, and magazines…” I snatch up the funnel I’ll be using to add oil to the vehicle. “And you, baby, are the living, breathing, embodiment of every car mag girl I’ve ever jerked it to.”

The twisted compliment causes more giggles to flood the garage.

“Why do I need you to be here?” The towel is placed on top of the cap area to clean it before removing it to prevent the gunk from falling into the area once it’s open. “Because it’s not every day fantasy literally wanders off the page to become reality.”

Redness creeps into her cheeks as she tucks her bottom lips between her teeth.

Car shit may not be the most romantic shit you can say but that doesn’t mean it can’t be romantic.

Flirting really is just like driving a car.

It’s not necessarily about how the body of the vehicle looks.

It’s about what’s under the hood.

How much power it has.

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