Enjoying the Banana Bread
The things she and AJ talked about that night had no end. Fun stuff, stupid stuff, down right personal and scary stuff. They talked about it all. They sat across from one another on the bed, swapping stories and memories, upsets, heartbreaks, big breaks and opinions on fame and Hollywood. He was genuine now, not hiding behind an intention, he’d been too hurt to have anything left to hide. His brown eyes registered when he was remembering something funny, serious, confusing, acting as a barometer to his feelings. She examined his tattoos on his hands and neck, asking about each one of them. They showed each other pictures of their families, their friends, explaining relationships and hair colors at different stages of life.
Whatever it was that had happened between them, that had cut a week out of the time that they knew each other, seemed to have evaporated. Fran was so comfortable that taking AJ’s hand and looking at the various ink markings on each finger, was not something that made her nervous. AJ let her look, let her touch, all the while wondering what was on her mind until each thought spilled from her lips and told him. Precious little did she intend to keep from him and he realized there was nothing that she wouldn’t be able to get him to tell her.
He hated how fast he’d said “I love you” moments before and she loved the way he just blurted it out. So he loved her, as long as he didn’t start that bringing flowers and candy shit that other guys did. They were promises, smelly, perfumed, sticky, sweet, and ultimately impermanent promises. Aside from that, she loved him too. “Like Sandra Dee loved Danny Zucko in Grease.” As if that wasn’t bad enough, she went on to sing the theme song, “Hoo, hoo, hoo, honey, you’re the one that I want!” Until AJ was laughing so hard they both were crying.
She kissed his cheek, right below his eye and pulled back, waiting for the question in his eyes. The sun was coming up behind the curtain and the clock alarm was due to go off in a minute or four, would the spell be broken? The radio blared and his eyes didn’t return from hers.
“You to get some breakfast for the road?” Fran asked.
“Yeah, where are we going next?”
“Tallahassee.”
“Great.” It was as if that first night had never ended.
“This is a great song,” AJ remarked as the radio blared out Jason Mraz’s “Remedy.” Fran nodded and looked over at him for a second. He wore his sunglasses as the early morning sun shone on top of his baseball cap. Pieces of donut clung to his lips and his fingertips were shiny with black polish and sticky glaze. It was perfect, he was perfect, this moment, it was the best piece of banana bread she’d ever had, sweeter too.
“Enjoying that donut, are you?” she smirked.
“Profoosley!” he said through a smile and a mouthful of pastry. She leaned over while she was driving and planted a kiss on his sticky lips, grinning and raising her eyebrows as she turned back to the road.
“So your sister is really gonna like the car?” AJ asked, licking the sticky off his fingers.
“She’s the queen of pink, so yeah,” Fran returned, adjusting the mirror slightly.
“But this is a lot of pink, I mean, come on, the dashboard is pink,” AJ motioned to the dashboard.
“And you have every single one of your fingers tattooed, you should like extremes.”
“Not in pink though.”
“She’ll love the car. It’s for her eighteenth birthday, so she’ll be ecstatic.”
“She know she’s getting a car?”
“Hell no. I told her the only way she’d get a car is by paying for it herself. She got a part time job to start saving up, this will make her day.”
“You drive a car like this then?” AJ asked, curious of the answer.
“Hardly. I’ve got a clunker of a bike at home. Too sentimental to trash it, I want to get it fixed up real nice. Paint job, tune up, everything, bring her back to her old glory.”
“Yeah, what color?”
“High gloss black baby, with shiny chrome wheels, ha ha,” Fran clicked her tongue and smiled at him.
“Good taste.”
“You should know.”
They ate lunch at a diner and spent the afternoon in the pink backseat of the car, kissing until their lips were sore and Fran was laughing till AJ laughed too.
“Damn baby, you frustrate me,” he laughed, holding her palm to his lips as he closed his eyes.
“I didn’t know I was making out with John Mayer in the backseat of the Petobismal car.”
“Bring your candy lips and bubble gum tongue back over here and shut up.” She climbed into his lap and kissed him hard again, vacuuming the air out of his lungs.
“Oh don’t do that,” he gasped, blushing.
“Why?” she asked, sitting back on his knees and noticing his predicament.
“You’re fucking killing me girl!” he laughed, his head falling back on the seat and laughing.
“How about I bring you back to life?” he asked, teeth on the shell of his ear.
“No, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking me, what, you think that I’m that innocent? McLean, you’re sorely mistaken, and I’m sure that you’re not a virgin when it comes to this either. Just because you’re a Backstreet Boy does not mean you’ve never gotten head before.” Her fingers were already pulling his shirt out of the way of his belt.
“I never said you were innocent, you’re definitely not innocent. But,” AJ stuttered.
“McLean, just shut up and relax already.” She undid his belt and undid the button on his pants.
“You’re too beautiful, to do that,” AJ replied.
“I’m not too beautiful for anything,” she said before she pulled down the zipper on his jeans and pushed him down on the backseat.
After, when she crawled up his body and kissed him, he tasted what she had done on her tongue and held her a long time.
“Feel better McLean?” she asked, drawing circles with her fingers on his arm.
“Mm,” was all he could reply, pressing his lips down into the top of her head.
“Are you sorry that you came to see me?” she asked.
“No, I’m not. Are you sorry that you let me walk out?”
“Of course I am.”
“Are you gonna leave him alone?”
“No. Are you gonna hate me for it?”
“Probably, but I love you too much to think about that much.” Of course that was a lie. He thought about him, the other man, too much and his limbs ached from not punching out the frustration.
“It’s passion, either way. Indifference, that’s the worst of it all.”
“Hmm.” He nodded and kissed the top of her head again.
“Would you believe something if I told you it?”
“What’s that?”
“You’re the first man I’ve ever wanted to do that for.”
“Oh.”
“Just think McLean, you’re no longer a Backstreet Boy, you’re a Backseat Man.” And they laughed until their stomachs ached.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Warning may not be suitable for children 14 and under, you've been warned.
