Page 24 of After Effect

How could I forget. “We went up Mulholland.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I know I already apologized, but I figured I should reiterate just in case you don’t remember that part.”

“I remember that part.” The whole ride came back more vividly than it was while I was living it. I looked up at Lilly. She was biting her lower lip and fixing her eyes on the window.

“Do you remember getting here?”

Try as I might, I couldn’t find any of those images in my memory. It was lucky I was even able to hold on for the remainder of the ride. “Everything’s kind of black after we stopped at the lookout.” I picked up the notebook and tapped it on my knee. “But it looks like I gave you some good edits to chew on.”

“Y-yeah. You gave me a lot to think about for sure.” Lilly smiled a smile that seemed more melancholy than happy.

“I didn’t say anything too harsh, did I?” That’s not what I wanted to ask, but if I asked if I had… said something to her when nothing at all had happened, I’d be admitting that I thought of her that way, when she otherwise has no idea. Asking if I was harsh, however, was already accepted as my default state of being. I’m so smooth sometimes…

“You’re kind of a dick when you’re drunk, too, turns out.” Lilly laughed. It was a reassuring laugh. The kind that cast all of my needless worrying aside. It’s good to know my professionalism is stronger than my libido. “Well, more importantly… do you still want to learn to ride the scooter?” Lilly’s catlike grin returned.

I cocked an eyebrow. “Are you going to be the one to teach me?”

“Oh Finchy.” She rested a hand on my cheek with a look in her eyes that could only be described as psychotic. “You can trust me.”

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Lilly Cisneros

The scooter was in my backyard, behind the restaurant tool shed that I’ll admit is in fairly desperate need of fresh paint. But the simple structures seemed insignificant in the expansive backdrop of rolling ranchland across the horizon. My parent’s home was old but elegant as it sat on a hill in the distance. It was a perfectly sunny day, and the comfortable air and familiar smells knocked the lingering exhaustion from my mind.

“This is the throttle.” I twisted the right handlebar a few times to demonstrate, revving up my four stroke, 125cc engine. At peak torque, it was nearly as loud as an angry cat. Such a good little scoot. “And this is the brake.”

“Which one’s the clutch? How do you shift?”

“It’s an automatic, speed racer.” I rolled my eyes. “Just rock it forward to drop it off the center stand and go!”

He’s a racer. I’m sure he can handle a little scooter.

He shifted his weight forward, and gave the throttle a hard twist. The little scooter seemed to find its power much faster than he was ready for. The look of panic on his face was priceless.

The wheels wobbled over every rock and rut, while the suspension bottomed out in every gopher hole. He made it about 30 yards when he grabbed a fistful of brake and jerked the handlebars to the side, but it wasn’t enough to avoid the large stack of hay bales that found its way directly in his path. Oooh, this isn’t going to end well. I probably should have told him how to steer.

The scooter flopped to the side and ricocheted off the dried straw, leaving Finch on his ass in the grass beside it.

“Soooo…. Sudden steering input after locking up the brakes doesn’t work on any vehicle, Finchy.” I stood over him, making no effort to contain my laughter. He furled his eyebrows and refused to look at me. I was still laughing at him as I lifted up the scooter and leaned it against the hay, and I couldn’t seem to stop as I offered him my hand. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

I stood back and watched him practice as I sorted out my thoughts on this whole situation. I wasn’t quite ready to introduce Finch to my parents. Fortunately they were both busy enough that I could avoid running into them for at least a few more hours. But that was hardly my most trying thought at the moment.

My eyes fell over my companion as he kicked started my pink scooter yet again. Finch was still wearing his suit from the night before- not that I expected him to have a change of clothes on hand or anything. The look suited him, with his dark slacks and a casually unbuttoned dress shirt. I was still getting used to his face with contacts instead of glasses though. He looked so much more vulnerable without them. He might be the only person I’ve ever met who is more intimidating with his glasses on.

His brown hair was also messier than usual. Partially from wearing my spare half helmet, and partially because I had messed it up last night…

I thoughtfully covered my mouth with my hand in a preemptive attempt to hide any emotions that might bubble up on my face.

This is so unfair. He doesn’t remember that he kissed me- not the other way around, I’d like to emphasize- and he doesn’t remember moaning into my mouth. He gets to go about his life thinking nothing happened, blissfully unaware, while every minute of what he did is permanently scored into my brain. What’s supposed to happen is I wake up after a night like that and go in for another couple rounds. Not wake up and have to secretly play with myself in the bathroom. My skin could still feel his fingertips running down my chest, toying with my nipples, and sliding between my legs. His scent still clung to my clothes. The taste of his saliva lingered on my lips. And much to my disdain, I had absolutely no desire for any of it to go away.

But last night, Finchy here was practically a coy, dirty little sex kitten. Today, I don’t even think he likes me.

I stifled a sigh while I kept my eyes fixed on a wandering heifer in the field behind him.

Finch puttered up and rested an elbow on the handlebars to prop himself up on his hand. Those hot and cold blue eyes barged right into mine, as if someone had sold him a free pass to my soul. Maybe he was scarier without his glasses, after all. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Would it only cost a penny to have you bend me over that scooter?

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