"So what should we do?" she asked. It was a Saturday morning and we were hungover; not the dark, immobilizing hangover of spirits but the more cheeky exhaustion fuelled more directly by beer.
"Not sure, but lets go somewhere nobody knows our names or our faces."
She seemed to like that answer. That reassuring little half smile tipped me off, it was no more than a dimple in her left cheek.
We drove two hours south, sticking to the coast; the scenic route. The stereo was on the whole time but I couldn't tell you what we listened to, I was more enthusiastic about the wind passing through the open window and the tuneless humming of the girl in the passenger seat with her bare feet up on the dash board, her woven anklet dancing with the wind as her feet tapped the beat.
I guess I should probably introduce you to the girl in the passenger seat.
Her name's Fiona, I call her Fix. That started when she fixed a broken a cigarette with a tally-ho paper, it stuck. Fix is one of those naturally beautiful girls; you know the ones with long, dark wavy hair and light eyes; either green or blue. I'm not into eugenics or anything but brown eyes are pretty damn ordinary.
The day passed in intervals of cigarettes and stolen kisses; she told me she loved me between drags of a PJ Gold.
I paused for a moment, looked into her sunglasses and spied my own wretched reflection.
I told her I loved her too; I figure pretending to care will get you just as laid as actually caring.
