Chapter 10 (Yvette)

The girls embark on their trip to Orange County, where Yvette's father lives.

My car was a Range Rover, solar-powered like the vast majority of cars were nowadays. It was painted a dull pink in a matte finish so it didn't shine nor show its imperfections. Not particularly pretty or distinct (save for those whitewall tires I always sprang for), but it was still as functional and reliable as it needed to be, what with its four-wheel drive, great trunk space, generally high durability, and its ability to off-road… even though I'd never once needed to do that. Now that I was thinking about it, watching as it was dropped off in Justine's driveway, that car really reminded me of myself. Might be why my mom had picked it out for me once I got my license, easily the kindest and most generous thing she'd ever done in my lifetime.

I was still amazed at how Justine had managed to get it back to the way it was; even taking her immense wealth into account, wouldn't it be easier to just buy a replacement and maybe modify it a bit? Regardless, I was pretty happy with what I saw. My car almost looked the way it had before the crash; the only evidence of its trauma came in the form of scratches and tiny dents all over the exterior, the result of having to unfold it from itself. The repairmen had attempted to paint over them with the same hue and style of paint as the rest of the car, but I could still tell they were there. Not that I minded, as I knew even the most prestigious workers weren't perfect.

"Like what you see, huh?" Justine strutted past me, lifting her luggage into the trunk, where mine already was.

"What, you or the car?" I smirked back. With how open I'd become since meeting her, flirting no longer felt awkward.

"Well I always appreciate compliments, but I was referring to the car."

"Oh, well in that case, I'm more than pleased… to think you can just fix a car after it took so much of a beating…"

"Please, you think your car had it bad? You should've seen mine." Justine panned a hand out to her right, where her 1959 Cadillac Eldorado was parked, painted spring green and with its convertible roof up for the time being. It too was covered in painted-over scratches.

"Yikes…"

"But enough dwelling on the past. What say we get this show on the road?"

"With how many heads you turn, 'show' is pretty accurate terminology." I smirked, slapping her daisy duke-covered a*s as I walked past, while readying my keys with my free hand.

"Okay, you might need to learn your own strength…"

Climbing into the driver's seat, I was pleased to see that the interior had been repaired as well. A few scratches could be seen on the dashboard, but the seats and upholstery had been replaced with perfect replicas, as had the engine and battery, as I'd been told. They'd even gone through the trouble of giving the car's inside a deep cleaning, making sure not to throw out my reusable grocery bags or air fresheners. Soon as we both buckled in, I felt right at home, placing my hands at ten and two on the wheel as I pressed the start-up button, shutting my eyes with a gentle smile as I heard the engine give a healthy bedroom purr.

---

The drive over to Orange County was pretty uneventful, at least throughout the first half. We pretty much spent the whole time taking in the scenic views between the California towns and listening to the Spotify playlist on my phone, a largely retro mix with scarce modern tracks… a major exception being Bruno Mars, of course. Since I didn't have the premium version of the app, I had to put up with the occasional ad break lasting anywhere between five and ten minutes, but Justine and I used those short spurts of opportunity to talk amongst ourselves about whatever we felt like.

In one of those instances, I got a follow-up to that funny little coming-out story she shared with me back at El Carnaval de Carne. Apparently her mom and dad had confronted her about not eating much that night, so she explained everything about what she'd done to rid herself of her appetite, eventually coming out to them as a lesbian in a shaky voice and few tears. There'd been no tension, no homophobia, just a comforting hug and full support. Even her twin brother had joined in on the group hug, having eavesdropped on the conversation outside the bedroom. While I certainly felt happy for her, it also made me feel worse about my own coming out tale. It only reminded me how empty and homely my life had been up until this point, but maybe my relationship with Justine would rectify that?

Eventually, we came across a gas station around the trip's halfway point, and it was conveniently positioned right by a general store as opposed to those small snack emporium you'd usually find at a gas station. It seemed like something you'd only see in those cheesy old movies, something that was only present in order to make the scene work in the way the writers intended. Justine got out and paid for the gas, pressing the necessary buttons and inserting the pump in the blink of an eye.

"I'll go in and grab us some chili dogs. Because fiber, right?" she asked with a sly grin. I'd like to think I'm not that much of a health nut.

"Sounds good. Oh, but I'll have mine on a pretzel bun," I replied.

"Duly noted. Be right back!"

I didn't follow her into the store, but I still felt the need to get out of the car, not just to make sure the pump didn't stop while she was gone, but also to stretch my legs. It's really weird how something as simple and boring as driving can be so excruciating. Hell, I had a less strenuous time doing certain workouts, although I'm not sure what exactly that says about me.

I absentmindedly stared at the rapidly changing numbers above the fuel nozzle as I thought over everything that had happened up until that point in my life. My troubled youth, my contentious relationship with my mother, the nonexistent one with my father that would hopefully start on a high note soon, and the quickly burgeoning one I had with Justine, the first woman I'd ever gone steady with. My kindred spirit, my first enjoyable date, and not to mention my very first f**k-buddy. I had undoubtedly fallen in love with her, and with our time together likely growing short, I knew I had to make the most of it. Either that or find some way to keep her around forever. Without even taking another second to think, I rushed into the store. I'd seen a cop stop to refuel at a nearby pump, so surely he'd be able to catch anyone who might try to jack the car while it was unattended.

---

The shop looked much larger from the inside than it did from out front. There was the usual food and drink section akin to what you'd typically find at a gas station, but alongside that was a clothing and jewelry corner with a couple of fitting rooms, a section containing home and car decorations, and even some other oddballs like suitcases, small electronics and their respective accessories, music albums in both CD and vinyl form, books, toiletries, and kitchen supplies. I immediately made a beeline for the jewelry counter, quickly glancing at the line to the hot dog stand. It looked long enough to where I could probably slip in and out without Justine noticing. And as if fate was one step ahead of me, it didn't take long to find the perfect ring to snatch up. It was made of fools gold, just a smidge brighter than Justine's hair, and crowned with a tiny emerald, deeper green than her eyes, but close enough. I hurriedly made the purchase, rejecting the offer for a bag as I tucked the ring case and the receipt into my scrunch-butt leggings pocket.

One of the first things I saw upon starting to walk away was Justine stepping away from the counter with our food. While she was looking around, I quickly turned to a series of shelves loaded with candy and personal-sized chips and trail mix, pretending to browse.

"Yvette?"

I turned to see Justine standing there with neutral expression on her pretty face. That meal in her hands looked almost as tantalizing as her.

"Uh, yeah?" I responded, playing it cool.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, uh, just wanted a pack of gum." I held up a pack of Extra in the key lime pie flavor, shaking it a little.

"Okay then."

---

Purchasing the gum even though I wasn't sure if I'd like it, I followed my girlfriend back out to the car, which thankfully hadn't been disturbed in our absence. We closed the gas tank, turned down the offer for a receipt, and pulled out, stopping on the side of the road just outside of town to eat on my car's hood. We gorged on our respective chili dogs, mine in a pretzel bun with shredded pepper jack, and Justine's topped with liquid nacho cheese and sliced red jalapeños. We shared an order of Creole seasoned potato wedges and an extra-large coke, splitting a cookie the size of my hand for dessert. I didn't normally take kindly to the oatmeal variety, but this one was chewy and lacked raisins, so I didn't mind; it also helped that they were replaced with peanut butter and white chocolate chips.

Justine didn't just look beautiful when she slept, but also when she ate. I managed to finish my own chili dog before she did, giving me more time to stare. I loved the way she subtly moaned with every bite she swallowed and licked away the meaty and cheesy sauces around her lips. I watched as each bite briefly formed a lump in her neck as it went down, the light breeze flowing through her high ponytail that hung over both shoulders. Her upper body was clothed in a black, midriff-baring fishnet tank top, worn under an opaque, flesh-colored one that was a little skimpier, and as she finished eating, her exposed stomach appeared to swell a bit, signifying that she was full.

In a moment of impulsiveness, I kept my eyes on her as she let out a burp and leaned back, before going in to tickle her midriff. In the midst of her raucous schoolgirl laughter, she retaliated by tickling my stomach, peeking out of my longline sports bra; I wasn't ticklish, yet her fingers nonetheless felt tremendous against my skin, especially when they traced along the contours of my abs. We continued our tickle fight for a bit, before it somehow led to another make-out session as Justine climbed on top of me. But surprisingly, it was her who chose to break it up.

"Yeah, we'd better keep driving," she said as she stood back up, pulling her shirt down a bit. "Plus, what if someone were to drive by and see us?"

"Good point," I gathered up all our trash, ready to toss it at our next opportunity.

---

By the time we arrived at my father's address in Orange County, it was almost evening. The house appeared rather nice, not a mansion like Justine's, but still very sleek and upscale with its flat roof, hilltop location, and high-tech gate at the bottom of the driveway. Surprisingly, it slid open without us having to state our business. Could Dad have been expecting me? Or was he just being polite and hearing us out? Either way, I could feel my lunch's reaction to my stomach acid, no doubt in response to what was about to happen. Trying to ease my mind, I jogged down the driveway after parking the car and tossed the remains of our lunch into the trash can. Not the best mark to leave on someone's house, but it had to be done.

I tried to steady my shallow breaths as I prepared to ring the doorbell, briefly looking back at Justine, who stood slightly behind me and remained quiet, smiling with a thumbs up. I didn't even need to knock before the front door opened and a man much older but only slightly taller than me answered. He was mostly clean-shaven with a pretty deep tan, and a body that told me he worked out, but not nearly as much as I did. His hair was brownish-black, no more than a centimeter long save for his cowlick, and with grays popping up all over. But by far, the most striking things about him were his eyes, a radiant, mystifying silver color, coming in stark contrast to the golden ones I got from my mom. As this man gave me a cautious smile, crowned with a thin mustache, I took a deep breath.

"Hello, uh, Dad," I stated. "My… my name is Yvette."