Joyriding

My cousin Jay's housewarming party was winding down when my friend, Erin, suggested pool-hopping. Stubbed-out cigarettes filled a coffee can next to the window, empty beer bottles crowded the rectangular coffee table, and only a few slices of pizza remained. I was stretched out on the couch, arm along the back, with Robbie next to me, resting his head on my shoulder. He was skinny and pale, and his shoulder-length hair was newly dyed black. He had lost some weight a couple years ago after high school. I welcomed her suggestion; I'd had my fill of beer and it was time to sober up a little.

I'd always loved pool-hopping, ever since one of the dance team girls had introduced me and Erin to it when the coaches weren't looking. Soon enough we were outside again, laughing and singing in the fading light, linked arm-in-arm as we stumbled toward our destination. Still giggling, we shushed each other as we climbed the fence. It was a low, metal one painted white, with a sign hanging from it reading The Linc in fancy script.

We kicked off our shoes and jumped in, still laughing and shushing each other. The pool water was refreshing against my skin after the ungodly heat of the day; Portland normally was cold and rainy and overcast, but once July and August rolled around, the sun was unforgiving.

"Oh shit!" Mal, Robbie's twin brother, hissed. Unlike Robbie, Mal had blonde hair and wore glasses with thick black rims. He was a stoic with a dry, sarcastic sense of humor.

I wiped the water away and opened my eyes, blinking a short, handsome punk into view. He sat on a chair, cigarette snug between his smirking lips.

"Howdy," he said, taking his cig out and tapping some ash onto the concrete. We froze like deer in front of an oncoming truck. "Pool's closed, y'know."

"We know," I said, trying to sound more bold than I felt. "What're you doing here, anyway?"

"I live here."

"Run," Robbie whispered in my ear. I nodded and made a mad dash for the side of the pool. Drunk and clumsy, I stumbled a few steps before tripping and falling. My knees and palms immediately stung, and when I staggered to my feet I saw blood running down my legs.

"Oh fuck," I breathed. My head spun.

The thing about me is, I hate the sight of blood. I can watch horror movies just fine and only feel a bit uneasy, but when faced with the real thing, one of two things usually happened: I'd faint, or I'd puke. Tonight I was counting on the pizza making another appearance given the fact that I was still half-drunk.

"Kaylee?" Robbie called, hoisting himself out of the pool. It must have been obvious how sick I was feeling, even in the dark. "You okay?"

"What's going on?" The punk asked. He stood now, brow furrowed with what almost looked like concern, and started moving toward me. "You're not hurt, right?"

"Yeah, it's cool, I'll be okay. I'm fine, totally fine. I'm—I'm fine," I slurred. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the blood.

"Really?" The punk said, "Because you're repeating your words, you look pale, and you look like you're about to topple over."

"Yeah. You might wanna catch me," I breathed. The world spun, my knees buckled, and I could see the concrete coming up fast to meet me.

"Oh no you don't!" The punk said, darting forward to catch me. He smelled like smoke and Dial soap. For a second, he just stared into my eyes, still frowning, before coming to his senses and helping me to right myself. Robbie moved to catch me again in case I fell, but I managed to stay steady on my feet. The last thing I wanted to do was faint again in front of this stranger. "Sorry man, you probably want your girlfriend back."

"We're not dating," Robbie and I said. The punk raised an eyebrow.

"Jinx!" Erin called from the pool.

Looking from Robbie to me, the punk said, "You might wanna patch that up then so you don't go fainting again. I won't always be here to save you, after all."

"That's fine, I can save myself." I chanced a look at the blood, regretted it, and looked away, swallowing hard.

"Course you can." The punk chuckled to himself. He stripped off his red plaid flannel shirt and tossed it to me, revealing tattoos along his arms now that he was only in a black tank top. Robbie caught it and pressed it to my knees. "I'll be wanting that back by the way," he called on his way back inside.

"Thanks I guess," I grumbled to myself. Then, taking a breath, "Kay, I think I'm fine to walk."

Robbie righted me and stepped away. My knees still stung, but in the dark, my cheeks burned with a mad blush. Stupid sexy punk.



My head pounded, my knees and palms stung, all of which drew a sharp hiss from me when I woke up on Jay's couch. Even though the buses ran until one in the morning, Erin and I opted to stay the night since we were too drunk to go home by ourselves. Well, that, and Jay insisted we stay. I sat up slightly but lay back down again, afraid I was going to puke if I was upright for too long. There was a nasty taste in my mouth and I needed to bathe.

As I staggered to my feet, something slid off me and fell to the floor. It was a red checkered shirt, one I didn't recognize, though a foggy shred of memory lingered. Cigarette smoke and Dial soap...arms catching me...

"Oh shit," I croaked.

Stuffing the shirt into my black hobo bag, I shoved my feet into my black Toms and damn near fled the apartment. As the door swung shut behind me I could hear Jay calling out in a tired voice. The sooner I got this over-with, the better.

My memory of the night before was still hazy and just out of reach, but after a couple of tries I was able to find The Linc again. If I'd thought far enough ahead, I'd have realized the one snag in my plan: I had no idea where the punk lived. I hadn't even gotten his name. I swore under my breath. I'd have to go door-knocking.

Yeah. Fuck that.

Grumbling to myself, I turned around and began to head back the way I came, stopping briefly in the gas-station mini mart to grab something to drink. I was seriously dehydrated, not to mention weirdly hungry and definitely hungover. Robbie was working the counter inside. I gave him a tired wave and he nodded back, smiling. He squinted under the bright fluorescents; I guess his boss wouldn't let him wear shades.

I grabbed a gallon jug of water and a breakfast sandwich. My mind was still foggy, and despite my churning stomach, I knew I had to eat. I swiped my card to pay, but when the screen prompted me to enter my pin, my mind just drew a blank.

I threw my head back and groaned. "Fuuuuuuuck..."

"You okay?" Robbie asked as he watched me dig through my wallet for some cash. I counted the bills I could find but only came up short. This sent me digging around for change.

"Yeah, I'm good, I just..." No change. I must've spent it doing laundry last week. "Shit."

"Don't worry about it," Robbie said with a grin. He grabbed the money and rang me up. "You can use my discount, but just this once." He winked at me.

I smiled back. "You're a life-saver, dude."

Robbie chuckled at this. "What're friends for, am I right?"

I grabbed the sandwich and stuck it in the microwave to my left, then punched in the time. I turned back to Robbie, leaning back on the counter. "Hey, speaking of which—did you ever get that guy's name? The guy from last night?" I asked.

"No, why? Got the hots for him or something?"

I blushed madly. "Huh? No, of course not! I just gotta return his shirt is all!"

Robbie busted up laughing. "Ooh! His shirt, eh?"

"You were there! You know what I mean!" I cried. Wincing, I clutched at my head and whined, "Ow..." Robbie tried and failed to to hold back his laughter.

"Relax, dude. Of course I know what you mean." He gave me a lopsided smile. I'd always loved that smile—maybe that's why people thought we were a thing. I couldn't help but smile back. "He lives pretty close so I bet he'll probably be by at some point or another. If he comes in I'll let you know."

"Awesome. Thanks, my dude." Robbie and I bumped fists. After saying our goodbyes and promising to hit each other up later, I left and headed back up toward the apartment.

Instead of going inside, I took a left and walked up the hill to my bus stop. I lived just across the Ross Island Bridge, so it only took me a couple minutes to get home once the bus arrived.

The uphill walk to my place from where I got off still felt like a slog though. As soon as I got home I collapsed into the beanbag chair next to the door, not even bothering to kick off my shoes like I normally did when I was inside. I'd brought the chair down from my room a few days ago when the guys came over for D&D but never got around to taking it back up to my room. Usually on game night, we draw beer, smoked weed, and ordered pizza so that kind of thing just happened.

After a short rest, I got up to wash the shirt. The laundry room was out the back door and down some stairs to my immediate left. It was all cement, so it was fairly cool and refreshing in the summer heat. Above the line of washers and dryers were a few small rectangular windows, yellowed with age.

Just as I was setting the timer on my phone for the laundry, a text from Jay popped up.

What was w you this AM, read the text. Another came through. You ok?

I texted back my explanation—trying to return the shirt, but not knowing where the guy lived, and that I was now washing the shirt.

Good. I thought you were in some kind of trouble.

I'd grown up as an only child, but having Jay in town, it was like he was an older brother of sorts. This protective brotherly-ness had extended to Mal and Robbie, to the point where we joked about how Jay should be the healer during our first D&D night. Instead, he was our ever-beleaguered DM.

I showered and changed into fresh clothes while the shirt was in the wash. By the time the shirt was done in the dryer I felt like a new woman, ready to take on the day—but gently, and with no bright lights or loud noises.

The shirt was warm in my hands when I took it out of the dryer. It smelled like lavender dryer sheets, but underneath, it smelled like cigarette smoke and Dial soap. His smell. For a moment I was transported back to that night. To the abrasive way he'd spoken to me, and the humiliation I'd suffered as a complete stranger saw my reaction o blood. I'd only ever wanted people to learn that about me on my terms. All the same, though, it was hard not to think about him. He was cute, and the way he held me in his arms, well...

I'd be lying if I said I didn't like how it felt.