So, I Met a Girl...

Since running out on my dad, I’ve had a hard time… I don’t know. I’m trying not to think too much. 

So I left the Bronco and wandered through the old homes and poorly lit streets until I reached the peach-lit crowds of idiots that make up this neighborhood. I found my way into a bar, one close enough to hear the waves breaking down the block, sat down at a table and did quiet a nice job of not thinking of anything until a young woman in front of me threw a punch.

It was refreshing to see the punch wasn’t directed at me, but the man in front of her. He was almost a foot taller than she was, but it was a good solid punch and I don’t think I ever saw him get back up. People were standing so closely together, he hit a clump and slid down to the floor slowly, like a thawing sheet of ice.

By the time he had disappeared from view, she was looking back at me from the other side of the table. “Are you next?” she asked.

It seemed very likely she would decide the answer was “yes”, no matter what I said. It was to my great surprise that not long after we were holding each other up as we walked back through the old homes and poorly lit streets. “I’m telling you, you don’t want to go back to my place,” I said to her.

“I’m telling you, I don’t like to be told I like,” she said back to me. The unreal color of her skin seemed more natural in the street lights, and the faded green color of her sleeve tattoos seemed then to be a shimmering, fresh black color. Her hair was long and tightly wound to the back of her head with dark red chopsticks protruding out. She looked lean, but I had no idea how really strong she really was until she grabbed me by the collar and pinned me to the Bronco.

I thought maybe she’d kiss me. Instead she looked over my shoulder into the cabin. “What the hell is this?” she asked.

“Someone burned my house down,” I said to her. “This is… just what I have now.”

She nodded slowly, either she was falling asleep or resigning herself to the rest of her night. “Get in the car,” she said.

“Don’t you have a place you’d rather go to?” I asked unlocking the door.

“Yeah, I have a really nice place with an infinity pool and a third floor balcony. I just really love fucking losers who live in their car,” she said crawling into the driver’s seat in front of me.

“There’s a charm about you that’s hard to place,” I said, getting in.

She sat in the passenger’s seat and pushed her foot against my chest, driving me between the chairs into the backseat. “Yeah, I’m a charmer,” she pulled the driver’s door closed and crawled back, straddling me. Her breath smelled like the whiskey we’d bought at the pharmacy on the way back, but her neck still smelled of sun tan lotion. It was salty, and firm against my tongue. She leaned into me, working her fingers into my hair, until taking a hand full and pulling me back.

She held me there, looking down at my face maybe twenty or thirty seconds. “I have to admit,” I said, “I’m not really sure what’s going on right now.”

She looked to the left and right of me, to towel that has begun to collect cat hair draped across the back. “Are you sure it was your house that burned down?”

“It’s been kind of a bad year,” I told her.

She looked down at my lips, tracing her tongue against the rim of her lower. “It’s only February,” she said.

I sort of shrugged my shoulders. What a depressing thought.

She continued to hold me by the head, shifting left and right on my lap, either content to slowly work her way closer into me or like a cat wriggling its tail before it’s pounces. “Why did you punch that guy?” I asked.

She leaned in, biting down on my lip. I’m sure you can imagine how scary that is for me. I could feel it where my nipple used to me. But she didn’t go down too hard at first, but slowly got there, sliding her hand down the side of my face, breathing into my mouth.

This is a bad idea, I thought as I placed my hands upon her waist.

My heart began to pick up, I could feel it in my wrists as her wriggle became a forceful rocking.

Good ideas aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.

On the plus side: I managed to stop thinking about whatever I had set out to stop thinking about.