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The low hum of the electric engine. The mumble of music. A new pop artist Luna recommended.
She's not bad, actually.
Not Fiona Apple, but not bad.
And we're moving.
Right.
I let the music and the surroundings wash over me. For a few songs, we sit in comfortable non-conversation.
Bit by bit, blood returns to my brain.
I still want to drag Patrick to my bed and fuck him bareback. But I can wait. In theory.
We breeze down the ten.
Patrick raises a brow as we near my exit.
I shake my head. "If you can make it, I can."
"Baby, you have no idea how long I can wait."
"I have some idea."
He laughs. "Maybe. I can go easy on you. Talk about something else."
"Us? Talking about something besides sex? I'm not sure about that."
"It's a wild theory, yeah."
"I like the music," I say. "It was a good suggestion."
"Thank Luna."
"I will. But I wanted to thank you too." It's sweet, him trying to find music I'll like, listening to music I like. I'm not sure a guy has ever done that for me before. "I appreciate it."
"My pleasure."
"Do you like it too?"
"At first, I thought it was a little slow," he says. "But once I surrendered to that, I loved it."
"It is mellow."
"But in a thoughtful way. I feel like I'm staying up late, talking to a friend. Or even reading the singer's journal."
Huh.
"She's honest in a brave way, but she doesn't underline it."
"That's specific."
"I know."
"But kinda dead-on. Did you come up with that?"
"Am I not clever enough?"
