They’d kissed and kissed and kissed, and then Rae took her top off. Her Converse and jeans were next. Jack almost finished right then and there in his jeans, but somehow, he managed to clumsily help her unhook her bra. She’d said, “Take yours off,”
Jack threw the uneaten wannabe Chinese food and wiped down the kitchen table, while Rae put on a pot of coffee. They opted for something warmer, and less combative, shelving the rest of the whiskey for another night. He can’t help but hope there will be more than one night between them.
“Delerium,” he answers, his gaze widening and his brows lifting. “It's a haven for the special ones, the artists, the raw talent, the gems among the empty vessels of humanity. Like you, Laney.”
He doesn’t answer, his eyes not wavering from the road. Alanis Morrisette is singing about things that aren’t ironic as the gas station becomes a reflection in the sideview mirror. Casey switches the stations quickly, stopping on a nothing but The Grateful Dead one.
They decide to sit down there, right next to the windmill, facing a broken-down barrier fence, side-by-side-by-side. Jack’s long legs stick out the farthest, his black and white Converse turning into each other like an inverted v. Rae is in the middle, her treasured docs scratched up and worn.
Neon flickers splatter light and shadow onto Rae’s teenage bedroom walls, waking her up in a dreamlike haze. It’s different than a feeling of not knowing where she is, or why she’s there.
Comments
Jack threw the uneaten wannabe Chinese food and wiped down the kitchen table, while Rae put on a pot of coffee. They opted for something warmer, and less combative, shelving the rest of the whiskey for another night. He can’t help but hope there will be more than one night between them.
“Me? You don’t know me so how can you…”