I glance at the road, and the car, then back to Aly. I hadn’t noticed how hard I was breathing until now, until it feels like all the air in my lungs is escaping along with my control over my dick.
Without seeing her eyes, I can’t tell what she’s thinking, but her words return as she says, “Go fuck yourself.”
Definitely Aly.
She’s not moving; she’s watching me, her head slightly slanted to the right, like she’s thinking really hard. She remembers me, too. Just as I’m about to ask her name, she tucks a strand of platinum-blonde behind her ear and blurts out, “I’m late.”
“For what? The bitch convention?” I tease, wanting to piss her off.
She doesn’t stop, but she does flip me off over her shoulder. “No, the dickbag convention.”
I watch her walk away. Actually her ass, but I’m smiling, and I have no idea why. Probably because I know she hasn’t changed from the girl I left behind. Still fiery as ever.