Page 58 of Faux Real
“Oh, good job, maybe you can be a meteorologist.” She rolls her eyes, pushing herself upright and peeking through the splintering wood. “They’re leaving.” She gently creaks open the door, poking her head out. “Okay, I think it’s clear.” She dashes out of the shed, looking back at me. “Let’s go!”
We run through the rain toward the Triumph, Kennedy leading the charge. When she rounds the corner outside the gate, she slips on a muddy patch of dirt, landing on her ass.
“Fuck!” she whines, writhing on the grass. “Oh my God, I’m covered in mud!” I let out a roaring laugh and she snaps her darkened gaze toward me. “Stop fucking laughing!”
I press my lips into a thin line, pulling out my phone and opening the camera. “Smile, Kennedy,” I coo, capturing a few shots of her rolling around, trying to stand up. “Need a hand?”
“Fuck off!” she whimpers, her feet sliding on the mud as she finally manages to get up. “My pants are ruined! Oh my God...so gross.”
“Yeah, you can’t get on the Triumph looking like that,” I note, striding toward her, light rain pouring down on us. “You’re toodirty.”
“Seriously?” she hisses. “What do you want me to do?”
“I mean, you could always take your pants off,” I smirk, passing her the helmet. “That’s an option.”
“In your dreams, Oliver!” Her eyes harden as she pulls the helmet over her head aggressively and swings her legs over the bike. “Let’s go. I’m done with the outdoors.”
I expel a laugh, shaking my head. “You’re going to have to clean the seat after, yeah?”
“Whatever,” she grunts, wrapping her arms around my waist as I straddle the bike. “Just go. I can feel the mud seeping through my pants.”
“Lucky mud,” I mutter as I start the engine.
This time Kennedy is silent during the ride, not a word escapes her pink lips as we weave through mid-afternoon traffic. It takes us longer to get back to campus due to the poor road conditions, but I don’t mind.
“Sorry about the mud,” Kenny whispers, handing me back the helmet, her eyes scanning the leather seat. “I’ll clean it up after I change, I promise.”
“It’s fine,” I say, wiping away the moisture off my face. “It’s just a little dirt.”
Kenny nods, biting her lip. “Still, I’ll clean it.”
“If you want to,” I shrug. “Up to you.”
“Okay,” she says, pursing her lips. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around?”
My phone vibrates and I read a text message from Veronica, my granddad’s secretary. Shit. I forgot about the damn fundraiser.
“Kennedy?” I ask, swallowing away a lump in my throat. “Do you uh—what are you doing next Friday?”
“Friday?” she asks, taken aback. “I don’t um...I don’t think I’m doing anything...why?”
“Do you want to go to a fundraiser with me?” I ask, attempting to sound as casual as possible. “My granddad, he’s throwing one for Malcolm Redford...you know, Sawyer’s father. Apparently, he’s running for congress or some shit. I have to go but I thought maybe—”
“Sawyer’s dad is running for congress? What? Really? Wow.” She pauses, taking a second to mull over the invitation as I stand there looking like a fool. In a cautious tone, she asks, “You want me to go with you? As what? Like your...date?”
I clear my throat. “Well, wearedating, are we not? So yes, I guess as my...date.”
“Oh, right,” she says, nodding. “‘Cause of our...thing. Okay, yeah. Sure, umm, I’ll go with you.”
“Excellent,” I state. “I think it’s only fair, right?”
“Mhmm,” Kenny hums, eyeing me warily. “Only fair.”
“Good,” I say, replying to Veronica’s text message, stating that I will be bringing a friend. “I’ll see you later then, yeah?”
“Mmkay,” she sings. “See you.”
“Bye.” I suck in a sharp breath as I turn on my heel.
