7:04 p.m.
We are young, heartache to heartache we stand
No promises, no demands
Love Is A Battlefield
I sucked down the last of my Redbull, doing my best Pat Benatar finger shake as I lip-synched along.
There's no way this will die
But if we get much closer, I could lose control
And if your heart surrenders, you'll need me to hold
The door to the Sonata opened. I arched an eyebrow as a leg appeared. Maybe I was stuck in retro mode, but the leg seriously reminded me of Jessica Rabbit's. The damn leg went on for miles. I was beginning to think that it was one of those prank legs when the rest of the chick appeared. It was pretty much as impressive as the leg. She tugged down the bottom of her teeny tiny skirt and looked around in frustration. She headed towards me and my fingers crunched into the can a little bit. She ignored me though and opened up the trunk. She bent over and I watched the booty wiggle as she rooted around.
I had never loved a traffic jam as much as I did at that very moment.
She must have rooted around in the trunk for a good four minutes before she pulled out what she had been looking for. It was a pink little bag that had me thinking all kinds of dirty thoughts. She headed back to the front of her car, but before she got inside her cell must have rang because she pulled it out and started talking. The bag started moving to and fro the more animated she got.
Since the cool air in my car was pretty much gone, I cranked down my window. Humidity be damned, I wanted to hear what this gorgeous chick sounded like.
"No, you are such an asshole. It's not like I planned this. Do you think I want to be stuck here with Elvis? I can't believe I let you talk me into this. What? Ugh, you would. Just jump off a bridge already."
She hung up and turned to peer into the car. I looked too but I didn't see anyone or anything moving around. She didn't seem to be in too big of a hurry to get back into her car and my head slid out of the open window all by itself.
"You okay?"
She turned to look at me and I could see that her cheeks were splotchy, the kind of splotchy girls get when they're trying hard not to cry. "I'm fine," she said in the least convincing voice I had ever heard.
"No you're not. Do you need help? Music? I've got the Best of the 80's Playlist going on in here. As long as you don't want to listen to Taylor Swift, I'm pretty open to anything else."
She slid off her heels and sank down a good two inches. Even so, her legs were still like a gazelle's. "I like the 80's," she said.
I took that as a yes. I chucked the mummified fries into the backseat and popped open my passenger side door. It took her a couple seconds to work her way to it, but when she did she slid inside easily bringing a whiff of pure sex with her.
"Don't think I'm a creep or anything but you smell awesome," I said. She closed the door and I brought the car to life again. The air conditioner began to shower us in coolness.
"Thanks, it's one of those generic sprays. Y'know the ones that are like 'If you love Curious you'll love dot dot dot Intriguing'?"
I thought it was cute that she actually said the dot dot dot, making little periods with the tip of her finger in the air too. I grinned. "Well it certainly is intriguing."
She laughed then and I knew my cheese had been well received by the delectable mouse. She held out her hand. "I'm Lark."
I shook her hand. "Nick. That's a nice name. Unusual."
She crossed her eyes and I laughed. "I hate it but my middle name's Zipporah so I can't really use that either."
"People could call you Zippy," I offered. She smirked.
"I'm impulsive, but I'm not fast."
I was hoping that she was saying she was nice and slow and long-lasting in bed, but I wasn't going to make assumptions. Brian always said that assuming made an ass out of u and me but unless you used the word in the present tense only and not like the running-man present tense it didn't make all that much sense.
"So Lark," I said. "Forgive me for eavesdropping, but I thought I heard you say something about Elvis?"
She leaned forward and seemed to be staring at her temporary plate. "Yeah, he's in the car."
"Is that a dog?"
"No," she shook her head. "It's Elvis."
I was suddenly regretting the invite into the car. She glanced at me, tossed back her head and laughed. I noticed she had pretty brown eyes. Potentially crazy brown eyes, but still pretty.
"I mean, not the Elvis," she opened the little pink bag and pulled something out that was white and incredibly lacy.
"More like the Vegas marrying-type Elvis..."
"Complete in midget form."
