PSEUMINO | VENTO AUREO

37 | trish.

═ ☆. YOU HAVE A MOPED?"

"It's my mom's. But she's out of town and it's been collecting dust in storage. You'll love it, I promise."

Trish squeezed your hand with such a dazzling smile that you momentarily forgot your words. You hadn't known what to expect when she appeared like a sprite at your dorm room, looking as bright and promising as the gorgeous day outside. She'd barged into your room, making a beeline for your closet and tossing out clothes for you to change. You hadn't been out since the day you'd been discharged from the hospital, so you were only too happy to oblige.

Trish always looked nice, but today was almost aggressive. White sandals and high socks. A collared short-sleeve polo with deep blue accents that matched her skirt, where a myriad of hand-drawn tigers, snakes and lions blended into the meticulously detailed tree branches. A collection of fine gold bracelets and rings decorated her hands, and in her hair was a silky white scarf. She'd also slung a minimalistic backpack over her shoulder.

You were curious about where Trish wanted to take you. But mostly, you were curious about the moped. In your mind's eye, you saw the slow-moving motorcycles old women liked to ride in the summertime, and couldn't help feeling a bit dubious about the whole thing.

You shouldn't have been, though. Trish led you to a spot in the parking lot and your mouth fell open at the moped that was parked there.

"This—this is..."

Trish grinned at the look on your face. She ran a hand over the saddle of the moped.

"None other than a Vespa 946 Christian Dior. Exclusive collector's item and the love child of Italian craftsmanship and French fashion."

The moped was a goddamn work of art, all elegant lines and sophistication. The body was a delicious cream-white with gleaming gold accents. The dark navy saddle was patterned with the Dior Oblique motif and echoed by the top case sitting in the back. When Trish lifted the helmet hanging from the handlebars, you saw the same motif there too.

"Try it on," she said, extending the helmet.

You balked. The helmet looked too nice to be admired, let alone worn. You could hardly think of riding the moped itself.

"I couldn't."

Trish thrust the helmet into your hands, then took out her own from the top case.

"No need to be cute. Hurry up, we have places to be."

You gingerly slid the helmet on, tinting your view blue-black. Trish took her place on the moped, nodding for you to climb on behind her. You tried to do so as gracefully as possible.

"You might want to hang on," Trish said laughingly, when you braced yourself on the sides of the moped saddle.

"I'll be fine."

"If you say so."

For such an elegant scooter, you were surprised at the power that thrummed through it when Trish started it up. A stylish display showed its gas level and speed, which promptly kicked up as you lurched forward—out of the parking lot and onto the street.

You squawked loudly, forgetting yourself and flinging your arms around Trish's torso to keep from falling off. Trish narrowly missed a large sedan as she merged onto the main street, the moped jolting awkwardly as she tried to keep it steady.

"Trish, you barely know how to ride this thing!" you shrieked through your helmet.

"I did a few laps before I picked you up," replied Trish, as though that was enough. "It should be more stable with two people riding it, no?"