Wednesday afternoons were always dead at the shelter. Usually I didn't mind, and I'd spend the five hours of my shift playing with the animals, trying in vain to teach them new tricks. To which I would receive confused looks from the dogs, and somewhat contemptuous looks from the felines in the place, as though I was beneath them. Me and cats had never gotten along.
But the animals didn't seem up to it today, and once my tasks were completed – feeding, grooming, cleaning, I busied myself flicking through the local newspaper while I drank lukewarm coffee.
I felt Camille hovering over my shoulder, trying to read what I was circling.
"Cozy studio in friendly building. You know that's code for tiny hovel with loud, nosy and unruly neighbors, right?"
"But it's cheap."
"Of course it's cheap. Lissa, have you never house-hunted before?"
"Actually, no." I didn't care to elaborate on the fact that, since leaving the group home, I'd moved in with all of my girlfriends, avoiding the need to rent my own place. I got the strange feeling that these people already thought I was pathetic; telling them this would have confirmed their opinion of me.
"Wow, then count yourself lucky. So you're really thinking of moving? What's wrong, mansion too big for you?" she teased. "Too much space? Closet too big? Oh no, I've got it: you keep getting lost every time you try to find your bedroom! That's a problem I'd like to have." She chuckled to herself.
"It's not my place, I've said that a million times."
"Sure it is. But for whatever reason you're still at odds with your girlfriend, and you want to show her that you don't need her. I know exactly what this is."
Was it that obvious? Was I that easy to read?
"If it were up to me, though, I'd take the manor over..." she leaned over and read from the listing, "an up-and-coming area within walking distance of the town center. Translated: Rough, underdeveloped neighborhood, at least three quarters of an hour outside of town."
I groaned, folded the paper, then pushed it away. My search had only been going for five minutes, and already I was sick of it.
Camille put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Why are you so keen to move? Still not working out between you guys? Fallen out of love?"
I didn't want to talk about it, not with her, not with anyone. Because I wasn't even sure how Jean and I were getting along.
"It's complicated," I said. Hey, if it worked for Facebook...
"I hate to break it to you, but that pretty much sums up life. You'll learn." She looked at her watch. "Is your friend still in town?"
"Petr? Yeah. Why?"
"No use you sticking around here. Go, have fun."
"Are you sure? Won't Diane mind?"
"No. Now get out of here. See you tomorrow." She pushed me away from the desk playfully. Guess I didn't really have a choice.
The heat hit me the moment I stepped outside. A sweltering heat with no sign of breeze to lessen its effects. I thought about heading right back into the shelter, to take advantage of the air conditioning. But the thunderous sound of a motorcycle speeding down the street stopped me.
When the rider pulled to a stop right beside me, I felt the fluttering and tingling of butterflies in my stomach. The bike, the jacket, the helmet. I'd seen them all before.
It was her.
Dallas pulled off her helmet and shook out her dirty-blonde hair like she was shooting a commercial. And I stood there, watching, mesmerized by her coolness.
I hadn't noticed her one, solitary, faint dimple back at the club a few days prior, but I saw it now when she grinned at me.
"Hey," she said. "We gotta stop meeting like this."
I rolled my eyes, tutted with disinterest. All an act.
"What do you want?"
"World peace. A beach house in The Hamptons. And a bevy of beautiful gals to keep me company. But if I can't have that, I'd settle for you hopping on and letting me take you for a ride."
I laughed to myself at the flagrant audacity. "Oh, well when you put it so nicely... Hell no."
"Oh, come on. You look like a girl who's never ridden a motorcycle before."
"And I'd like to keep it that way."
"Ah, so you're afraid of the big, bad bikey," she said in a mocking baby voice.
I knew I should have known better, shouldn't have let her get to me. But she was so damn smug, sitting confidently and sexily on that bike, I wanted to prove her wrong. Never mind the fact that I wasn't a fan of motorcycles, that to me they were two-wheeled killing machines only crazy people used.
She must have noticed the inner dialog I was having with myself, trying to convince myself, because she lifted the seat of her bike and pulled out another helmet.
"I always come prepared." She winked, I swooned, and took it from her. Was I really doing this? Riding a motorcycle with this girl (and a pretty mean one at that) I didn't know?
The adrenaline pumped through my veins. I put on the helmet, then straddled the bike behind her, before hesitantly placing my arms around her waist.
"Hold on tighter than that, unless you want to fall off," she said, her voice heavy with amusement.
Oh my God, this is such a bad idea! There's still time to get off and keep your life! No rational thoughts presented themselves at that point, as I prayed to whatever spiritual being would listen to me. Is this how I'm going to die?
She put on her helmet, then kicked the bike into power. It started on the second try, and we were away like the wind.
The town became a blur of colors and shapes as we whizzed past, and the once non-present wind slapped my body, over and over. I wasn't expecting to suddenly feel so cold, having gone from one extreme to the next in seconds.
I squeezed Dallas tighter, held on for dear life as we tore threw the air at a million miles per hour. At first, the realization that no one would survive a crash at this speed terrified me. But after a few minutes, once we'd turned down a lengthy country lane, the adrenaline really hit me. You see, you can enjoy life so much more when you're not constantly thinking of self-preservation. If these were to be my last moments on Earth, I was going to enjoy them.
I heard screams of joy, and didn't realize immediately that they were coming from my own lips.
We rode for about twenty minutes, and by the time we stopped, my throat was sore from all the screaming.
"Now, I'm no expert, but I'd say those sounded like screams of pleasure," she said, once she'd removed her helmet and dismounted.
I got off too, removed mine. We were in a part of town that I'd never visited before. An idyllic creek, with a still, freshwater lake. A tranquil setting, complete with birdsong and those pleasant sounds of nature you get when man has steered clear of a place.
"So what if they were?" I said with attitude.
She laughed. "Just admit it, you had fun."
"I'll do no such thing." I set the helmet on the ground, following her lead. "Where are we?"
"A little-known place I like to come to sometimes. No one comes out here usually. It's quiet, I like that."
I could see why. With the naked sun beaming down on it, mostly unshielded by trees, and the untouched greenery, the place was postcard ready. Inside, for the first time in months, my muse stirred, grew restless. My hand itched for a paintbrush.
I trod across the fallen leaves, taking the place in; its beauty, its fresh, piney scent. It reminded me of Lox Ridge, of the creek there. My old home. Now that I had left it behind, I could remember it without the heartache, without the loss. Nostalgia is funny like that.
"I guess I should tell you that my name's Lissa," I said.
When I spun around to find her, my eyes nearly popped from their sockets. Around her feet lay her entire leather biker suit. Her golden skin shone beneath the sunlight. I gulped, praying that the sports bra and boxers weren't about to follow the rest of her garments, exposing even more of her toned flesh. That strange necklace remained in place. I wondered if the rough stones didn't irritate and scratch her skin.
"W–what are you doing? And how the hell did you get undressed so fast?"
She laughed, stepped past me, dipped a toe in the water. "Practice." Then she dived in, making a big splash.
Something caught my eye on the back of her neck. I'd been trying to avoid checking her butt out, and had averted my gaze to a much more neutral place on her body. They couldn't have gone unnoticed. Four long, thick, deep scratches, like claw marks from a bear. Though her hair hid the tops of the scars from sight, they were long enough that they reached her shoulder blades.
"Are you just going to stand there and watch? Get in."
"I'm not getting in there with you." So tempting, especially in that heat. But swimming around half-naked with a girl I'd just met somehow didn't seem like the done thing.
"Suit yourself. But if you don't, you'll have to walk back home. Totally up to you."
"You're blackmailing me now?" I said, outraged. "We're in the middle of nowhere and you expect me to find my own way back?"
She flicked water at me, then chuckled to herself upon seeing my killer glare.
"Loosen up a little. What are you, twenty-four going on seventy?"
Loosen up? I'll show her how loose I can be, I thought to myself, stripping off my clothes furiously. She thinks I can't have fun. She has no idea.
"That's my girl." She whooped loudly, her voice echoing. "Now it's getting good."
"I'm not your girl," was my meager response. And I didn't follow it up, didn't tell the whole truth, that I was someone else's girl. I thought about what my adoring girlfriend would have thought of me slipping into the lake with another woman, and it shames me to say it, but that encouraged me more. I was so sick of my life revolving around Jean. I wanted to do something out of character, something she wouldn't see coming. This presented the perfect opportunity.
The deeper I stepped into the water, the more I shivered. It's always cold the first time you get in, no matter how hot the day is.
"So it's Lissa, huh? Don't really get many Lissas around here. Unusual."
"It's no more unusual than Dallas."
She splashed a little water in my face, and I splashed her right back.
"Well, I like Liz better. I think I'll call you that."
"You don't get to decide."
"I can do what I want," she said with a daring smile. Her wet hair was matted to her forehead and cheeks. The eyeliner must have been waterproof, because it wasn't smudged at all.
"And I won't answer you. Simple."
She only smiled her wickedly sexy smile, that single dimple popping up briefly. I fought back the urge to ask her about the scars on her neck, thinking it rude. Maybe it had been a traumatic experience for her.
"You're not from around here, are you?"
"Indiana, actually. Moved out here a few weeks ago. What about you?"
"Here and there." Vague. "You move here alone?"
"No..." Now it was my turn to be vague.
"Ahh," she said knowingly. "So there's someone. A girlfriend, right? My gaydar doesn't lie."
I had to laugh. Many had been wrong about me before, erroneously pegging me for straight or bi. But this girl had known instantly, hence the outrageous flirting at the club.
"There's someone, but it's complicated."
"How complicated? Are you going to tell her that you're out here with me, wearing nothing but your underwear?"
"I might."
She floated closer, wearing the same roguish grin, making me shiver a little from the look in her eye.
"And are you going to tell her about the kiss?"
I frowned. "What k–"
Her lips were on mine before the word escaped.
Several seconds passed before I realized that, not only were her lips still locked on mine, but that I'd somehow allowed her tongue entrance. The kiss was so fervent, so aggressive, as I would have expected from someone with her attitude.
"What the hell are you doing?" I demanded, once I'd finally torn myself away. But the protest was really for show. The kiss was great. Wholly unexpected and sinful, but great all the same. Possibly because of the immorality of it. One kiss wouldn't have been so bad, but the setting coupled with our lack of clothing... I would have had a lot of explaining to do if Jean showed up then. Good thing it was still daytime.
Dallas cackled. "You're a riot...Liz." She swam off, and I didn't know what else to do but swim after her.
I'd already decided to keep schtum about my naughty little excursion with my new rebel friend if Petr ever inquired. But as the bike rolled to a stop at the curb, right outside my workplace, and I saw a pissed off looking Petr, I knew that ship had sailed.
He shook his head when my helmet came off and he saw that it was me.
"Really, Lissa?" His eyes were judging me. And when Dallas removed her helmet, she received the same look. "You couldn't have called to say you'd already left work? Couldn't have told me you were out gallivanting with strangers?"
Dallas laughed. "I thought you said you had a girlfriend, Liz, not...whatever he is."
Through his indignation, Petr always managed to look more camp than ever. Given the context, and Dallas's comment, it only amplified the comedic factor. I struggled to hold in my laugh.
"She does. And if you think you're dangerous, with your cheap imitation Harley, and your fake leather jacket–"
"All right, everyone calm down." The claws were out. I hadn't seen Pete this vexed since forever. Besides, I wanted to shut him up before he announced to the whole street that I was dating a vampire.
Dallas only laughed. "See you around, Liz," she said, put her helmet back on and rode off into the sunset like an outlaw from an 80's movie.
"You want to tell me what that was about?" Petr demanded.
"Don't start, all right. I went for a ride with her, that's it. Okay, so we swam around a bit–"
"Please tell me that's not a euphemism."
"No! Of course not. What do you think I am?"
He didn't look convinced, or impressed.
We set off home in silence. An awkward, tension-filled silence. I knew that he could go on like that for hours if I didn't clear the air.
"What are you so mad about? That I forgot to tell you I got off early, or that I was with her?"
"I'm not mad. But I think your girlfriend will be."
When I looked at him, I could see that he was genuinely concerned.
"I did nothing wrong." Well, apart from kiss another woman. That's considered pretty bad to most people. I knew that if I told him about it, we would have fought. "Why is it that when I was with Hilarie and pursuing Jean, you didn't have a problem with it?"
"Because, Lissa, you never loved Hilarie. And she never really loved you. Besides, Jean isn't a bitch. But this girl..."
"You've always been on my back to date women my own age," I sulked.
"Then put your girlfriend out of her misery and end the relationship. Doesn't she deserve that?"
"I don't want to!" I stopped in the middle of the street, the words coming out more aggressive and much louder than I wanted. "Why can't you see that it's not as simple as that? You of all people should know. I mean, you were there picking up the pieces when I found out about my mother."
"That's right. And I was also there when you realized you couldn't live without Jean, and decided to move to another state with her. It seems like the only person who doesn't remember that, Lissa, is you."
"Maybe I'm not that person anymore."
"Maybe you're just trying hard not to be." He shook his head again, the look he gave me pitying and sympathetic. "I hope you know what you're doing."
That made two of us.