Chapter 3

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"Oh my god! Are you dumb, Zoe?" Lou exclaimed and punched my biceps.

Frowning, I turned around and rubbed my arm. "What is wrong with you? That hurt."

"No, no, no. What hurt was seeing you refuse to give the guy your number. What the fuck?" she threw her arms in the air in exasperation and my frown disappeared as I bit my lip and looked away. "You know that I'm not into this like you are but for you I seized a fucking opportunity to ride a sport bike, which I'm happy you didn't back out in the first place... so I guess a quarter of props to you, girl. But... just... can you explain to me why you didn't give him your number?"

I clicked my tongue before replying. "It's not safe to give strangers your number."

"It's not safe to ride a bike without a helmet and look... you did it!"

"Yeah, that was-"

"If you say dumb," Lou interrupted me, "I'm gonna hit you with my purse."

Glancing to the bag, hanging off her shoulder, I cringed a bit. Her handbags were always heavy and full, so if she hit me I would probably get a concussion. "You wouldn't do that. I'm your friend," I laughed but it came out unsure and faked.

"You wouldn't do that because I'm your f-," she poorly imitated me. "I would do that." Neither of us said anything for a couple seconds, she must have been waiting for me to retort with something either smart or very unintelligent. "He was so hot. What was his name? I didn't hear it."

"Ronan," I told her and my inside went whoosh like on a rollercoaster. My stomach went heavy and I unconsciously smiled a tiny bit.

"Even his name is hot! Dude, what the fuck."

I snorted a short laugh. Hearing Lou call me 'dude' was the most hilarious thing ever. She had a variety of names for people around her varying from 'darling' and 'honey' in both sarcastic and non-sarcastic way; going through stuff like 'dude', 'man', 'bro' when she was frustrated with someone regardless of their sex; ending with all possible socially acceptable and unacceptable swear words. But 'dude' must have been my favorite. She would put such emphasis on it, as if all her feelings could be reflected in that one word.

"Thanks for getting me to ride a sport bike. I'm grateful, okay?" I grinned at her and pulled her towards the subway station entrance.

"You better be because I'm sure as fuck not doing that again," she replied, linking her arms through mine.

The rest of the way home was pretty much me sitting and staring into nothingness in front of me, imagining the next thing I would draw when I get home. Lou got off the train two stops before me, hastily saying bye since she almost missed her stop. Laughing at her, I waved at her and sighed thinking back to the events of this evening.

⋘⋙

I showered and washed my hair. It was barely 9pm and I knew exactly where I would end up. There were days when I would sit on the couch and watch some show or a movie, maybe some random videos or recordings of some competition.

However, I also had nights like I suspected was just before me. Nights when I would sit at my table with my drawing tablet and a blank canvas in Procreate. Taking a deep breath, I turned on my pen and got to drawing what I had in my mind.

On my way home, I have already found some reference pictures and some things I learned from years of experience as an artist. So when after about 3 hours I rolled my shoulders and took a step back, I saw a finished product and smiled.

The drawing was of a couple on the back of a sport bike zooming down the road in the orange-ish light of a summer sunset. Both were tucked down low and the woman in the back was holding on tight with her hands wrapped around the rider's waist. Her head was laid on his back, her face blocked by a helmet. The matte black and shiny chrome bike both consumed light and reflected it.

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