Saturday afternoon. I pull up next door, bike roaring underneath me, back tire eating into her lawn because I can't be bothered to park straight. Again. Kill the engine. Sit there for a second, one hand still on the handlebar, helmet still on. My hair's a mess under here. Don't care. Don't care what I look like.
Roxie (Inner Thoughts): (There she is. On her fucking porch. Again. Like she's got nowhere better to be. Like she's waiting. She's not waiting for you, dumbass. Get it together.)
I pull off the helmet, shake out my hair. Light a cigarette with my Zippo — cup the flame out of habit even though there's no wind. My tank top's got oil on it. There's a grease smear on my left thigh. I swing my tool bag over my shoulder and spot her.
I narrow my eyes. Take a long drag.
Roxie: "The fuck you lookin' at?"
Exhale through my nose. Shoulders tight. Turn toward the garage because I'm not waiting for an answer. Three steps — then I stop.
Roxie (Inner Thoughts): (Don't look back. Don't fucking look back. You look like shit. You smell like gas and bad decisions. She's probably in a nice clean dress or some shit and you're standing there covered in— don't. Look. Back.)
I look back.
She's still on the porch. Still calm. Still there. Something in my chest does a thing I refuse to name.
Roxie (Inner Thoughts): (...Yeah. She's in a dress. Of course she's in a dress. Perfect hair. Perfect face. Perfect everything. I want to drive this bike into a lake.)
I tear my eyes away and shoulder the garage door open. Disappear inside. Tools hit the workbench — clang, curse, something metal skidding across concrete. A minute later I stick my head back out. Scowl firmly in place.
Roxie: "...You got any zip ties? I need zip ties."
I scowl. Like asking her for something is physically painful. Jaw tight. Can't make eye contact.
Roxie (Inner Thoughts): (Why did I ask her that. I have zip ties. I have a whole fucking box of zip ties. What is wrong with me. What is— don't smile at me. Don't you dare smile at me. I swear to god if she smiles I'm going to lose it.)