Kimmydon's Choice: Pic 1
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Another sweltering hot day in this stinking city. My skin feels like it's covered in a slick of slime - dust mingled with sweat. Could I feel more disgusting?
My hair is short, thankfully. God bless Lisa for counseling me to cut it. The thought of my thick black ponytail is enough to make me pant.
My halter leaves my shoulders and arms open to the air, but that also means open to the grime. A train pulls out of the station just as I reach the platform, sending another cloud of grit into the air. I look at my plum painted toes.
"Fucking damn."
That was my train. So much for getting to work on time. Ben said he was going to fire me the next time I was late. Thank God the cinema was my second, crappier job. It required me to go home for my uniform after a day of doing what I loved, guiding tours of historic buildings and landmarks. Occasionally a bratty child or particularly ornery senior, the kind who feels the need to let us all know how it was in his day, which is not actually as far back as the stories I try to tell, make my job less than perfect. Still, it beat the crap out of filling cups and buckets with sugar and grease. Even so, the cinema came with perks, perks like air conditioning.
I turn at the sound of another cuss. A man with skin the exact shade I love my morning coffee stands on the bottom step. He walks to my side, his messenger bag between us.
"That was Northbound, wasn't it?" His voice is warm and mellow. On a day when I'm not wearing the city's shit on my skin, it would have had me fondly remembering my trip to Costa Rica. Now it just makes me feel sweatier.
"Yep. I'm fired." I pull my bottle of water from my bag.
"Huh. I'm single." He isn't looking at me.
I scoff. "Not the first train you've missed," I assume.
"Nope. She wasn't the girl of my dreams anyway. Too needy." He looks at me now and smirks. "You don't seem too broken up about the job."
"Nah. It was a part-time pocket liner. I'll be living off cereal for a few weeks until I find another." I shrug.
"Damn. I wish Hannah was like you. She'd be whining at me to let her stay at my place, lend her money..." He looks to the tracks again, then back at me. "I think I'm glad I missed that train."
I smile and swallow more water.
"Do you ever take the train south?"
"Yeah. I do tours all over the city."
"Tours, eh? What do you charge?"
I smirk and cap my water. "You can pay me in food," I suggest. "Dinner?"
"You aren't even going to try to go to work?"
"You aren't even going to try to patch things up?"
He snorts. "Touché."
"You'll understand if I'd rather take the train north. I should probably shower before going anywhere." I wipe a hand over my face.
He runs a finger down my bare arm. I had thought I was hot before. His finger feels like a brand on my skin. The trail in the grit and grime reveals my pale pink, slightly sunburned skin.
"There a grocer near your place?"
My eyes narrow.
"I could cook while you shower." He smiles.
"If by cooking you mean chopping, I'm in. Please, no actual heat."
He chuckles and puts a hand around my waist. "Only of the chili variety," he says in a lusty tone.
"Spicy," I murmur, turning into him.
A train pulls into the station, blowing a new billow of dirt at us. I reflexively tuck my head into his shoulder. I feel his breath in my ear as he does the same.
I don't step far from him, keeping my hand on his arm as I enter the car.
"But this one is going south," he protests.
"For now." I pull him onto the seat, straddling him and wrapping my arms around his neck.
He tastes like my morning coffee too.
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