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"Cash or card?" the woman behind the register asked, poise slacking, and she sounded about done with everything. The tips of her nail extensions are rhythmically clicking on the counter. The night had been long and it was monotonous as any other day; serving customers who either rushed or disrespected the worker tending to them. So her attention was caught elsewhere—by the phone in her other hand, instead of the customer across from her.
"Cash, and keep the change."
"Do you want a bag for that?"
"I don't suppose you want me to hook this on my purse like a keychain?" The worst she could say is no. "I'm kidding, love. I'll need a bag."
The cashier’s patience was already running thin prior to the scissor to the thread that was the customer’s sweet tone at the end. It would take a good amount of time to analyze whether or not she meant that mockingly, or just sarcastically, and harmlessly. The cashier was about to retort when the customer placed a bill twice the total of the unscanned items she’d calculated in her head by reflex.
"Bubblegum. Iced coffee." She counted, finally scanning the barcodes. "And..." A pause. "A blueberry-flavored XXL condom."
The last line was delivered like a question, unlike how she plainly read the previous items. The customer noticed it too.
"Is it so scandalous?"
"No. Just that nobody likes this flavor. Odd taste for a..." She studied the customer: fair height, straight jet black hair almost to her bosom with bangs that looked like the product of impulse, which, nonetheless, she astonishingly pulled off. Her top was black, fitted, and had sleeves perfectly cut out on one shoulder, revealing just enough for one to stare. It's like her shoulder was adorned with glitter as it sparkled under the store's lights, but it really wasn't. Her bottom a short leather skirt that did her curves justice. Black knee-high boots with heels enhanced her height by inches. It was an all black outfit for someone who chose a bold, deep red lipstick as the only color in her character.
"...Woman of your taste," the cashier continued. She’d almost forgotten she was saying something, because, as of the moment, admiration had replaced irritation.
"You think so?" The woman gestured for the iced coffee to be held by hand instead of bagged. She took a sip of mocha—not exactly her favorite flavor, but it was the only one left in the store. And more than anything, she needed something that could keep her awake for the drive home, or wherever she was headed. "Not that I'd know anyway. I keep it for luck."
"Luck, huh? That a superstition?" the cashier asked in a tone that sounded unconvinced. "No shame in buying condoms, 'ya know." There were people who still viewed birth control poorly, so this encounter was no surprise to the cashier.
"Oh, I know that, dear. But it has no use for me." The interaction was running longer than it should, and there was really no need for further elaboration. She was entitled to no one, but a part of her wished the cashier understood what she meant. She then gave the cashier a smile before striding in her boots toward the exit, hips slightly swaying at every step, as if she intended to hook anyone who would look. She raised the coffee at shoulder’s length, pinky finger partially stretched.
A woman brimming with confidence. A woman who is fully aware that she’s hot is a very dangerous individual—a menace.
Her car was waiting outside near the fuel pump—a 2023 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray in wine red, convertible. Its windshield frame stained black, the interior patterned dark burgundy. Everything was customized to the owner’s liking, even the steering wheel: a capital 'Y' embossed in its center. The sunroof was closed at present.
"Nice ride. Your boyfriend’s?" A man stationed by the tire inflator asked.
When will I know peace? She thought.
"Mine," she replied flatly, eager to dismiss his presence.
"Ah. Your boyfriend got you that, I see." Persistent. Probably wants to know if she’s single.
She pulled the car key from her purse, coffee still in hand, paper bag tucked under one arm. With one press of a button, the headlights came on, and the door unlocked. But before ducking inside, she threw out a brief response: "Careful, I sense something more inflated than your tire." She didn’t spare the man another second to think. Whether or not he caught that she referred to his ego, she couldn’t be bothered to be concerned.
Now settled in the driver’s seat, she placed her drink in the cup holder, her purse and paper bag tossed softly into the passenger’s seat. "Welcome back, Yumeko," the car's intelligent assistant greeted from the dashboard. "Disable voice control. I’m going off route tonight," she commanded. "Shutting down. Have a safe ride."
With that, Yumeko fired up the engine, but she'd let it rev a moment longer, just for the man outside to hear—if he was even still there. Not that she cared, really. But a flashy getaway would be the perfect nail in the coffin.
All that was left to do now was drive somewhere—anywhere. She needed to unwind, and gas was no longer a problem.
"Guess I’ll let the wind decide." She shifted into gear and began to drive, departing from the gas station. But before going any further, she remembered the perfect combo for a midnight drive: a retracted sunroof and a mix of sultry, boozy music.
Back at the gas station, the cashier was just a couple of minutes away from ending her shift. Only one customer was left to serve, and they seemed in no rush.
"Lollipop. Bottle of water." She counted. "And... a cherry-flavored XXL condom." She nodded her head in what appeared to be approval. "Cash or card?" She had paid little attention to whoever had passed the entrance since earlier, so she was late to notice the customer had ventured deep into the store with their helmet still on.
"And helmet off, please. Store policy."
"My bad. I'll be paying in cash." The customer laid down their payment three times the amount of the items they'd picked, before carefully unfastening and removing their helmet. "Couldn't find the blueberry, quite odd. Keep the change."
"Someone beat you to it. It was the last stock. And uh, nobody likes that flavor." This whole interaction was starting to feel eerily familiar to the cashier. But the real shock came when she finally got a clear view of the customer’s face without the helmet obstructing her view.
"I wouldn't know. I simply fancy the color." The customer ran their fingers through their hair, which was a bit disheveled from just having been freed from the helmet.
The cashier stammered a bit, but the second trance of the day she'd undergone was too much to be merely a coincidence. "This for luck? The condom?" She asked as she pulled out a paper bag from the drawer in her own initiative this time—did not even consider asking first, as she didn't want to end her shift with another customer potentially throwing a sarcastic response to her question. But the customer waved off the gesture, and had already decided to slip the small items into the pocket of their leather jacket, and the water bottle was held in hand.
"How'd you know? Not a lot are aware of the superstition," the customer shot her a confused look.
"So it is true. I thought the woman before you just made it up." Deja vu.
The breeze seemed to be on board with Yumeko’s not-so-plan of a plan tonight. It wasn’t too strong, but it wasn’t too faint either. It swept her hair just enough so it didn’t shroud her front view.
Jet black hair flowing with the wind—a luscious sight, if only the sky wasn’t already dark, and if there was anyone at all to see.
1 AM. No traffic. No pedestrians. Hell, there wasn’t even a single soul on the horizon.
The atmosphere urged Yumeko to slow down. The moon was in full display, and she didn’t want the drive to end too soon. Work had been exhausting, but if she didn’t slow down now—literally and figuratively, she’d have it worse after the weekend.
She then came to a stop.
Red light.
There was a moment of hesitation at first—she was alone and practically free to disregard it since the road was empty. But something stopped her. This was also a chance to pick a specific song from the playlist: 'Smooth Operator' by Sade. It's the one song she'd played at least twice a day since she'd gotten her license. And what better way to savour the song than to learn to drive a luxury sports car? A night alone in the broad of a highway—the perfect terrain to test her pipes was too good a chance to pass on.
Then, from a distance, a roaring engine made its presence known. And it grew louder by the second.
Yumeko was, in fact, not alone.. Or not anymore.
"And here I thought I'd have the night to myself." Yumeko grumbled in slight displeasure. Of all the modifications she had her car undergo, she'd never reworked her engine system with aftermarket exhaust parts that loud.
20 seconds left before the light turns green.
Yumeko expected the source of the obnoxious noise to drive past her in full throttle.
But the night had better plans.
The engine now purred as it came to a halt beside her car.
But the road was big enough for more than two vehicles to fit, so why choose the very spot next to her?
It was a motorcycle.
A Honda Rebel 500. Matte black dominated its body as well as its exhaust pipes, but the gas tank and rear fender were ocean blue.
It was as eye-catching as Yumeko’s car, though it leaned more toward a classic design, while hers was decidedly modern.
The biker didn't spare even a glance at her. At least they're not as obnoxious as their bike, Yumeko thought. Still, she's not used to anything below satisfactory—her usual excuse for riling people up unprovoked. So if something stopped her from beating the red light earlier, something was now pushing her to commit a risky act. And if something was faster than her car, it was her prowess to change her mind. What she was about to do was the complete opposite of the mood she'd initially set in track.
She folded an arm to support herself, slouching against the door of her car, leaning slightly toward the motorcycle. She drafted the most ridiculous idea in her head—to get the attention of the biker. Then, with utmost confidence, she declared loud enough for the biker to hear, "We should break up."
It was short, and the outcome would most likely be 50-50; the biker could simply ignore her, or Yumeko would get pursued by an angry biker whose motorcycle she was more than certain was only modified in the aesthetics department, not functionality. Like a turtle chasing a rabbit, if you would.
And to say that it worked would be an understatement. The biker’s head pivoted toward her, completely and unmoving.
And what do you do after pulling off a prank on a complete stranger? That’s right. Drive as fast as you can away from them. Ride like hell.
Yumeko hit the gas hard the moment the light turned green. Giggles escaped her lips as she sped off into the night, savoring her sweet escape.
…that was short-lived.
Her car was fast. But apparently, so was the motorcycle.
She had underestimated the turtle—a total miscalculation. If only she'd learned from the cashier.
The next stoplight wouldn’t be for another kilometer.
Headlights gleamed in Yumeko's side mirror, glaring like a laser beam. "Oh, someone’s pissed." But she didn’t slow down, no. Instead, she slammed it into second gear and punched the accelerator, pushing her speed up by 10.
Up close, her car was undoubtedly wine red. But from a distance, especially from the eyes of a certain biker that had just been made a fool by a daring woman who happened to be the only other person driving right now, her convertible had morphed into a vicious, bloody red.
Predator and prey ran wild in the boulevard.
What Yumeko thought was just a ludicrous stunt—the biker saw as an invitation to a race.
Blue had begun catching up to red on the sunless highway, with only the moon to bear witness.
"You're not catching up to me." The chase was on, and so was a more devious plan in Yumeko's head. "Not yet."
"Playing cat and mouse, I see." The biker sneered under the helmet, shaking their head. They’d sized up Yumeko at the red light earlier, and when their gaze fell on her face, they were thunderstruck by her almost otherworldly beauty—who apparently had a daredevil dwelling inside. Dangerous both outwardly and within.
Yumeko swerved her car slightly to the left, as if to block the biker’s path. A big fan of racing games and films, she was. But the biker was quick and tenacious, veering just enough to the right to keep their course. "Like a sailor to a siren. Predictable," Yumeko muttered, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips as she licked them.
The race came on until both drivers reached the second stoplight, and they beat the red light just milliseconds apart.
Still, she knew she’d grow bored of this highway chase soon enough. And Yumeko wasn’t Yumeko without her flashy getaways. She considered slowing down just enough for the biker to catch up, and let them think they’d won the pursuit by their own skill. And when victory seemed only an arm’s length away, she’d shift into the highest gear and disappear into the night...
...or at least, that’s how it was supposed to go.
The biker had now matched her pace, drawing even on her distance.
The speed of their ride whipped the wind into the small gaps under the helmet, pushing out strands of long hair that reached past her shoulders, that had been neatly tucked away.
And oh.. long hair? Yumeko's confusion was enough a distraction for the biker to take advantage of. "Don't tell me.."
The biker gestured with a hand, signaling for her to slow down and pull over, but Yumeko’s thoughts intercepted the message. The biker sighed, frustrated, and pushed up the visor of their helmet—revealing luscious lashes and blue eyes that glimmered brighter than the moon. Or were they green?
But most importantly..
A woman. The biker was a woman.
The biker noticed a crack had formed on Yumeko's walls, and this sprang an idea in her head.
Still staying even with the car's tempo, the biker shot Yumeko a devious gaze through her eyes—and yes, it was enough for one to conceive it as scheming, though it was inarguably magnetic. And the scheme? A fatal wink for the first part. It seemed Yumeko thought she was the only one taking it easy on the other, without realizing she'd just met her perfect match.. or rival.
And that just made things worse for Yumeko, who had now been lost in a reverie. Daydreaming at midnight, as if she didn’t have a race to finish.
There was only one option left for the biker: the second part of the scheme—to go full throttle and completely overtake the Stingray. And surprise, surprise, Yumeko wasn’t the only flashy one tonight. The biker kicked their motorcycle into a brutal drift, tires screeching against the asphalt, carving a perfect 180 to face Yumeko’s car head-on. It looked exactly like how they'd do it in the movies, only this time, it was indisputably real yet somehow even more cinematic.
Just a second earlier, and it would’ve been a collision. But in that blink, the biker was already in position.
If Yumeko was reckless, the biker was downright dangerous.
The biker’s stunt snapped Yumeko back into focus. Thanks to her quick reflexes, she hit the brakes just in time, avoiding what could have easily turned into a headline about highway road rage resulting in a crash. What an unusual way to pull over. She'd finally composed herself. She had to. She started this whole gimmick after all.
It only dawned on Yumeko now that the biker, or rather, the mysterious woman, was dressed in an all black outfit just like her. Full safety gear. Her helmet bore an engraving of a striking blue 'K' on one side. Her top a softly muted leather jacket--the length betrays her waist when she raises her arms, revealing smooth, fair skin underneath. For her bottoms, she sported a semi-fitted Joe Rocket Pacifica textile pants, and cruiser boots with faded steel eyelets. She looked the least bit of an unseasoned biker. She looked like she knew exactly what appearance would make her opponent surrender, if they even stood a chance.
It was either the gear or the shadows of the night that had hidden her figure, but there was no mistaking it now—her silhouette was sleek and undeniably alluring, even under the dim streetlights.
The biker walked toward Yumeko’s car, unfastening her helmet as she went. If Yumeko's hip swayed as she walked, the biker's was aligned with her heels—walking like she bet her life's worth's savings that it was impossible for one to not turn their head and shamelessly gawk.
She stopped just in front of the bumper, chest rising and falling from the effort of the race, or the chase, rather. And with a sigh, she rid her helmet, revealing a face meant for the museums. Strands of hair were swept away by slender fingers. But beads of sweat were left streaming from her neck, down to her now exposed collarbone inches above her black underlayer, after she'd pull down the silver zipper of her leather jacket for air.
At long last, her eyes locked with Yumeko’s without obstruction, sharp and intense. Then, she spoke in a voice that was raspy, almost sultry. “Finally caught you,” she almost said 'mouse,' but something more fitting came to mind. “..Fox.”
"Am I gonna get arrested, officer?" Yumeko strung along, withdrawing her hands from the steering wheel to clasp her wrists together. She closed her knuckles so as to mimic someone who had surrendered to be cuffed. But she needed a remark to parry the biker's last word. "..Or will you bare your fangs upon me, wolf?"
"I won," the biker snickered.
"I let you," Yumeko corrected.
"You never stood a chance, red."
"Oh, that wasn't even my top speed."
Neither is giving in right now.
Rightfully so, after that wild performance.
"I was matching your pace, not the other way around."
"Are you my ex? Why did you follow me?" Yumeko taunted, and she knew exactly what sshe wasdoing. She'd started this, so she'd better end it with her victory. "Oh right, I broke up with you."
"Right," the biker replied, snarkily, agreeing to disagree. "But I don't recall calling it quits."
It seemed the woman not only knew how to ride a motorcycle, but a play-pretend as well.
The line and the attitude in which she said it made Yumeko's ears perk. Whatever she'd devised earlier had now gone up in ashes. And to have your plans fall through was one thing, but to accept defeat? Yumeko knew no such thing.
"I surrender," she pretended to lock her wrists again, inviting the biker to come closer from the bumper. And her gesture was heeded. "What now? I don't suppose you plan on winning me back."
The play was still on.
"Not if you don't tell me your name," the biker adjured, cradling her helmet under her arm, while her other hand held onto the Stingray's door-top. An effortless yet enchanting posture. "Name's Kira. Kira Timurov. You are?" she introduced, tapping a finger on the engraved letter on her helmet.
"Yumeko," she answered, leaning back on the cushion of her seat, arms crossed. "Last name.. debatable," she smiled ever so innocently, anticipating a question from the biker to follow suit.
"And the reason being?" Kira asked, retaining her commanding poise. Never a one-question one-answer between the two.
"Just that.. I might consider using yours if you do win me back. Yumeko Timurov," she recited, looking up at the sky as if she were imagining more things she shouldn't be. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"
"Mhm, I don't quite share the same sentiments," Kira hummed, stepping away from the car door. "..Yet. Give me a better view and maybe I'll consider."
"A better view?"
"Of you. You've got a whole preview in front of you, and it's only fair if you show me yours."
"Preview.." Yumeko repeated as she'd unlocked and levered the door of the convertible up and open, eager to clarify if Kira meant that in another way. "So there's more for me to see?" She finally stepped out of the car, hoisting herself in front of Kira, hands clasped behind her back, with one foot inched forward from the other. If Kira exuded authority, Yumeko was the epitome of 'I never lose—not unwillingly.'
But she was met with no response, or not the appropriate response to her question she'd expected. Instead of the owner, Kira studied the red convertible behind Yumeko. If the bait was Yumeko herself right in front of the arget, Kira auditioned for another role elsewhere.
"A 2023 Corvette Stingray. Customized." Kira nodded in approval of the modifications to the car.
Yumeko tried to hide it, but her faint huffing didn't go unnoticed by Kira. The girl is now exactly in the position she wanted her to be.
"Charming. Smooth curves. Lovely shade of crimson." Kira detailed the features, passing Yumeko and leaning over a tad bit too close over her, their shoulders meeting at the faintest touch—all of this, just to trace her fingers on the linings of the car. "Exquisite."
"Fancy my convertible that much?" Yumeko could only scoff. She could no longer tell if Kira was on the same stage of the race she set.
"Oh," Kira's eyes beamed a hungry gleam. "But I wasn't talking about your car," she finished, leaning back to instantly snip the mood she'd just given Yumeko a little taste of, only to replace it with a pretentious, innocent smile.
Enough is enough, Yumeko thought. "Then pray tell, who are you referring to.." In one swift motion, she'd stolen the helmet tucked under Kira's arm. "..And why can't you say it directly?"
"You led. I only followed." The perfect response.
Yumeko realized this conversation was going nowhere—or was taking longer than she'd imagined to reach the destination.
"Let's move our vehicles to the side," she instructed.
"How can I be sure you won't run away from me again?" Kira asked, unswerving.
"I won't, and that's a promise. But if you have trust issues, then let me.." Yumeko marched closer, her brown siren eyes turned doe, meeting Kira's blue, or green, before she planted the softest kiss on the woman's cheek. "..Seal it with a kiss."
She then pushed the helmet back to Kira's hands this time.
It was the first physical move of the night.
And neither of them was satisfied. Not yet.
Without a word, Kira turned away and headed briskly towards her bike. But really, she didn't want Yumeko to witness the shade forming on her cheek—almost recreating the color of the Stingray.
The two revved their respective vehicles, driving and slowly pulling over to the grass just beyond the low gutter. They were in what seemed to be a cliffside, high above the city lights glinting from far below.
Yumeko kept the promise. They parked side by side.
Kira hopped off her bike, then she pulled the cherry lollipop she'd purchased from the gas station earlier. She unwrapped and relished it immediately after, while resting only half of her weight on the bike.
"Your bike," Yumeko alighted from the car, but she'd left the music playing. An intentional and decisive setting of the mood. The perfect accompaniment for two souls on the verge of intertwining. "Customized as well, I see. You like blue."
"I do," Kira replied, almost incomprehensible from the lollipop in her mouth. "Red, too."
"You have another one?" Yumeko pointed to the lollipop, closing the distance.
"Only this," Kira shrugged. "But I don't mind sharing."
"Bold." Yumeko snickered, delicately pulling the lollipop by the stick out from Kira's mouth. "Then.. would you so kindly let me taste?"
Kira didn't answer, but the flicker in her eyes was as much a green light as Yumeko needed to, before she began feeling the lollipop in her mouth, but having it first pass deliberately through her pillowy red lips.
In reality, Kira couldn't answer, because the grand sight of the woman before her ignited something hotter than her engine inside of her.
One moment, a candy was being savored. But in the next, it had fallen into the ground, completely disregarded.
Kira hooked an arm around Yumeko's waist, erasing the last bit of distance between them. Cherry flavor was further passed not through the lollipop, but through its remnants stuck to Kira's lips.. onto Yumeko's, which were much newer, fresher. It started soft and tender—an exchange of colors and flavor back and forth. But neither wanted to concede and pull away first, so even after the cherry had settled, the kiss only grew hungrier by the second.
Yumeko flung her arm around Kira's neck, her other palm claiming territory in the middle of Kira's chest—not excessively touchy, no. It was placed there to feel her heart, and it was, perhaps, the only thing left intercepting their hearts from knitting together.
With their bodies pressed, the smallest movement only huddled them harder, nearly locked. Kira's hand now lingered on what little skin the length of Yumeko's fitted top couldn't fully cover in the small of her back—the free one caressing the slope of Yumeko's jaw. If the breeze felt cold to Yumeko's skin, Kira's touch felt warm and ever so inviting. Addicting, even. But Kira would only stroke firmly at times, leaving Yumeko wanting more.
Who was she before she'd tasted an embrace that only made her insatiable? Before she knew she could voluntarily let herself be devoured?
Hell, it wouldn't even matter right now if Kira were to suck all the air out of her—if there was even a sufficient amount left in Yumeko.
Their position prompted Kira to fold her knee, barely, but just enough so that it was raised higher than the other. This was to support Yumeko's weight, or to have her legs squeeze and trap Kira's thigh in between hers. And it appears Yumeko was a frisky kisser, which wasn't helpful at all to her situation. She didn't know how to stay put, or maybe it was Kira's fault that she couldn't. She squirmed whenever Kira would ever so slightly sneak her tongue on the frame of her lips. And at times, she would bite down on Kira's lip, using it as a leverage to mask her whimpers. All this, when nothing beyond clothed kissing and touching has even happened yet.
Kira was in for a feast.
What once was a mouth that never learned to back down was now a mouth completely occupied by another, who seemed to be the first and only person who had succeeded in this department. And maybe Kira was the only one bold enough to chase Yumeko to the extremes—this night being their first meeting was slowly becoming negligible.
But it was Kira who broke the kiss first.
"My bike," were the first words to leave her. "It's meant for riding. Not.." She directed her gaze to the helmet strapped onto her bike's handlebars before she finished, "..For leaning on."
Yumeko gathered heaps of breath before she spoke, or before her body relaxed and allowed her to speak. "Are you suggesting we move elsewhere.. or do you want us to stop?"
This earned the heartiest chuckle from Kira. "We both know the answer to the second one is no." Then, her eyes fell upon the convertible behind Yumeko. "I know it has two seats, but can it handle more than just sitting?"
Yumeko's eyes widened, pupils dilating from the invitation she'd just been gifted. "I had it customized, remember?"
Yumeko pretended to push Kira away by her chest as she freed herself from her embrace, but she immediately took Kira's hand in hers before she unlocked her car. She bowed and beckoned for Kira to enter first. "After you, Kira-san."
Kira ducked and entered the car for the first time tonight, making herself comfortable in the passenger seat. Soft, she thought, and burgundy, everywhere. The interior matched the exact vibe Yumeko possessed.
And when Yumeko had finally settled in her own seat, Kira spoke, nape nestled on the low curve of the headrest. "Dramatics before formalities, huh?"
Yumeko carried herself to Kira's direction, her eyes landing and staying a second longer on the silver zipper of the girl's leather jacket she'd been wanting to release all night. "Am I to blame if you're the one who made it into a chase?"
"Like I said, you led, I only followed." Kira repeated her line earlier.
"But why follow?" Was the question Yumeko should have pried out of Kira as soon as she'd been overtaken.
"Why not?" Kira replied, purposefully unzipping her jacket. It's as if she'd read Yumeko's mind. But she hadn't taken it off completely yet. "If you had driven a second earlier after "breaking up" with me, maybe I wouldn't have pursued."
"And why is that?" It shouldn't, but Yumeko's heart sank a little, even if she didn't understand what Kira was implying.
"Then I wouldn't have seen you."
"But my car is impossible to miss."
"I'm not talking about your car."
This has happened twice now. A handful of things tonight kept repeating, and no one knew why.
The once moon in full display was now veiled by thick, dark clouds. The news did say there was a chance that it would rain in this specific area.
Yumeko still hasn't answered. She could only observe the woman in her passenger seat. But she noticed something peeking over the lapel of the jacket.
A scar. There was a scar on Kira's shoulder, and it looked like it reached beneath her chest.
Kira noticed it too—that Yumeko was peering over something she shouldn't. The series of events tonight made her loosen her guard. And so she popped the jacket closed, though still not zipped.
"You.. I'm sorry, I just happened to notice," Yumeko apologized, full sincerity showing in her eyes.
"It's alright. You didn't know," Kira pretended to wave it off.
"I'm all ears, but it's okay if you can't." Yumeko offered. "Besides, we just met."
Why? Kira shouldn't be having thoughts that said otherwise. It shouldn't have taken her a minute to contemplate—she shouldn't have been contemplating in the first place. So why now? And why should it be Yumeko the first to see through her cracks?
"Actually.." Kira hoisted herself up straight. "This was from five years ago."
Yumeko didn't expect her to open up. At all.
"An accident?" she asked.
"You could say that."
Whatever could Kira mean by that?
"One night, I was engaged." A pause. "The next thing I remember, the car was tipped over.." Kira looked up the sky; the clouds seemed heavier than they were before she'd entered the car. "And he was lifeless."
"I.. I'm sorry to hear that. That's.. tragic." Yumeko raised a hand and aimed to pat Kira's, as a gesture of comfort.
"Oh, no. It was the happiest day of my life."
"Wha—"
"See, my father arranged for me to marry a man near his age. For the business, he said." She recollected, her jacket slumping off her shoulder, letting Yumeko see the scar for half its actual length. Kira's underlayer was a black tank top, inches cropped from the bottom so it only really covered a good amount of her upper body. "It's healed, but the skin graft is still prominent."
"Can I touch? Oh no wait, that's—" Yumeko quickly took back her words. Kira opening up was one thing, and she shouldn't have asked such an invasive question.
But Kira held Yumeko's hand, granting her partial access to the scar. Kira guided her fingertips from the visible starting point of the scar, down to the upper lining of the tank top. "It doesn't end there."
There were still missing parts of the story that Yumeko couldn't pass on to hear. "So you and your fiancé were in the same car?"
"Don't call him that. It gives me the creeps," Kira claimed in a tone that lightened up the air around them. "But yes, we were."
"Did you.." Yumeko wanted to ask something more accusatory than invasive this time.
"Kill him?" Kira finished the question for her. "I'm not in jail, am I?"
But that wasn't convincing. And Kira saw through her.
"Would it change anything if I did? Would you like me less?"
"No. I would be disappointed if you didn't." Yumeko corrected.
Matching wavelengths of insanity. It seemed it didn't only end with the race.
"My father wanted to announce the engagement at a dinner party. Lots of people."
"And when does he die in the story?"
"That same night. We argued in the car. You can guess he's a douchebag, and an old one at that, too. He.." Kira took a breath deeper than usual. "My father wanted him for me for his wealth, and he wanted me for obvious reasons a fucker like him would have."
Yumeko could feel the story reaching its climax, but she couldn't help but feel deeply for Kira.
"I was in the passenger seat. Like this—" Kira reenacted, then she leaned over to Yumeko's side to grip the steering wheel. "I fought for control over the wheel. Things got heated, and.."
"That's when the accident happened," Yumeko finished for her this time.
Kira nodded, hands still on the steering wheel. Her position rendered her too close for just a storytelling to Yumeko.
"You're brave. Thank you for trusting me," Yumeko gave the warmest smile Kira had ever seen. "Is that why you're into motorcycles now? Cars trigger trauma?" Yumeko asked, and then she realized something. "Does being in my car suffocate you? We can—"
"No. Surprisingly, no. But I don't think it's your car specifically," Kira returned a smile to Yumeko. "All credits to the owner."
Her rival on the highway becoming her lover overnight wasn't at all in her plans. Yumeko couldn't foresee it.
"Where does it lead to?" Yumeko asked, sparkling eyes completely taking over what once was the moon's job to illuminate the night. "Your scar?"
"Somewhere underneath," Kira tugged at the hem of her tank top, her other hand falling intentionally onto Yumeko's thigh. The skin was soft against the calluses on Kira's fingertips from years of driving her bike.
Yumeko pressed her seat into an incline—an invitation for Kira to crawl onto her lap. With the point of her boot, Yumeko kicked a button on the dashboard that drew the sunroof of her convertible closed, gaps sealed. "It's gonna rain."
Kira smiled at the initiative and heeded Yumeko's invite, perching before settling onto her lap. Her hand relied on the edge of the seat's headrest for support. Yumeko's view at the moment is incomparable to the scenic view outside—this was the most ravishing, scrumptious view yet. "Hasn't it already?"
Yumeko raised a brow in confusion. Kira and her slippery words. Again. "What do you mean?"
And once over, Kira grabbed Yumeko's hand to guide it over the arches of her scar. The most beautiful woman Yumeko had ever seen is sitting on her lap right now. She knew Kira wouldn't accept being called flawless—but to Yumeko, who had nevertheless found herself completely enamored by the woman, she would race over heaven and hell if it meant she could love Kira in ways she needed for her to.
"It's been raining," Kira appears to be in a lighter mood as of the moment. Yumeko couldn't quite point her finger at it, but the expression painted on Kira's face, though still somewhat devious, feels more.. real. Like Kira has now let herself be known and perceived by Yumeko. "Down there," she finished.
"Down where?" A pause. "Oh.. You sly woma—" Kira didn't let Yumeko finish. She'd been wanting to start another ride with her since their last kiss. And she did.
But before their tongues could battle for control, Kira's foot hit what felt like a paper bag—its items rolling out from it. Kira saw the tiny blue packaging of something: the blueberry XXL condom. This made her head descend onto Yumeko's chest, laughing all the way.
"What's so funny?" Yumeko asked, lips damp from the kiss.
"You have something that should have been mine," Kira tipped her head in the direction of the condom, an inch under from their seat. "I ended up picking the cherry one at the store." Kira smiled. "For luck?"
It was the first time Yumeko met someone who knew of the superstition. Guess she's not alone in the sea of knowing anymore.
"No wonder I got so lucky," Yumeko declared, the corner of her lips tugging into a mischievous, foxy smile. "No more interruptions. I'm all yours for the night."
But Kira expressed disapproval. She raised Yumeko's palm near her own cheek, brushing it against the hand before bestowing a kiss upon it. It seems the wolf bore not only fangs, but gentleness as well. "You're mine for all eternity."
For others, the night had just ended.
But for Yumeko and Kira, a whole lifetime's race had just begun.