Fridge Meeting, part 2
You asked, so now you shall receive. May I present….Part 2.
*****
It was a hot, dry night, so Mac blasted the air conditioner while he waited for Riley to finish locking up her apartment and get in the truck. Driving over, there were more cars on the road than he’d thought there would be, but that’s LA for you. The city may go to sleep, but somehow the traffic never does.
Riley flung the passenger door open and jumped into her seat. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.” Chuckling at her impatience, he watched her move the vents so the cold air hit her square in the face, blowing her hair back like she was in a Maybelline commercial.
Mac exited the apartment complex and turned onto the street, thumbs tapping the steering wheel with the beat of the music softly playing on the radio. Beside him, Riley mouthed the words to the chorus. They spent the duration of the five minute drive in comfortable silence. Silent car rides were never awkward with Riley like they were with Desi, Mac noticed. He and Riley had always been able to just…exist in the same space, regardless of whether they interacted.
Even so…there was something off about Riley, but Mac couldn’t ascertain what.
The parking lot, like always, was packed, which never failed to surprise Mac. Even at 3 am, a line extended from the walk-up window to halfway across the tiny parking lot. Of course, because it was packed, Mac had to squeeze his truck into a super tight space. He instantly regretted not taking Riley’s car. In order for them to be able to get out of the truck at all, he had to park so that they could only get out on the driver’s side. A small price to pay for delicious, super cheap, 3 am donuts.
Outside, the faint smell of wildfire smoke set Mac on high alert. Riley must’ve noticed the shift in his focus because she sidled next to him, wrapping an arm around his back. “It’s from down south, somewhere in San Diego,” she explained. He exhaled, panic dissipating. Fire season had just started, adding to the long list of things that made him sleep a little lighter than normal.
He squeezed her shoulder, keeping her side pressed snugly against his while they waited in line. She tensed at first, but with every sweep of his thumb, Riley began to soften and melt into him. Some little voice in the back of his brain reminded him that he shouldn’t be holding Riley like this. Friends can hold each other like this too, he shot back before ignoring the nagging voice completely.
At the window, Mac ordered a poppy seed old fashioned. Riley ordered a dozen glazed donut holes, which she emphatically claimed were the superior form of donut. As far as Mac was concerned, the jury was still out on that one.
What the proverbial jury could agree on, however, was that the look of pure bliss on Riley’s face when she popped the first donut hole in her mouth would make any man weak in the knees.
Including Mac.
Mercifully, she was too busy eating to notice the way he stared, slack-jawed and helpless. His eyes tracked even the smallest movements, from the swish of her hips to the way she sucked frosting off her fingers.
Riley was stunning. Anyone with eyes would agree. On the surface, it was her alluring facial expressions, stylish clothes, and her effortless cool vibe, but none of that fit into Mac’s definition of stunning. Except for maybe the facial expressions part. He and Riley could have whole conversations just by making faces at one another. In those moments, it was just the two of them, existing outside of space and time, conveying everything they needed to say without uttering a single word.
No, in Mac’s eyes her beauty was rooted in her excitement for learning new things, her willingness to try crazy (read: incredibly stupid) ideas, her belief in the goodness of other people. Her beauty lied in the way she wanted to make people’s lives better, and she constantly put her own life on the line to do it.
They sat at a concrete table and devoured their donuts, quietly observing the other patrons of the donut shop. Most people came in pairs and got one or two donuts each, but there was a group of four middle-aged women who left with six bags filled to the brim like they’d ordered one of everything. Good for them, he thought.
A young couple joined the line, holding hands and stealing glances at one another. They looked like they had gotten dressed with the closest clothes, not caring what the final outfit looked like. The man wore a wrinkled blue button down with neon green basketball shorts, and the woman wore an oversized t-shirt and black basketball shorts that definitely belonged to the man. Clearly she didn’t live with him, as she’d paired the outfit with high-heeled boots.
Riley elbowed his side. “That is definitely ‘I-just-had-sex hair.’” Mac snorted, recognizing the curly disaster disguised as a messy bun. He’d once caught Riley sporting that exact hairdo back when she was dating Billy Colton. Not wanting to earn a much harder elbow to the gut, Mac kept that little detail to himself.
Noticing Riley’s crumpled up paper bag, he asked, “Ready to go?”
She smiled softly. “Yeah.”
There it was again. That sensation that something wasn’t quite right. Riley could read him like a book, but he wasn’t there yet. Riley was a masterpiece, as classic, and Mac was reading middle-grade novels. He had some work to do, and Miss “I Bottle Up My Feelings Until I Explode” wasn’t going to be of much help.
Crawling back into the truck was just as much of an ordeal as crawling out. Mac fought to look at anything–anything–else, but his eyes automatically slid to her legs and her ass while she climbed over the center console. He snapped them away before she could notice.
“This was a good idea. Thank you,” he said, starting the truck.
“For you? Anything.” She paused. “And for the record, all my ideas are good.”
He couldn’t argue with that.
*****
Because I clearly suck at one-shots….if this gets at least 10 reblogs I’ll write a part 3.
It’s killing me Pt 3 please :))))
