RISK & REWARD ✔️

41 | 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵

WHEN I feel a prod at my shoulder, I open my eyes. It's gotten lighter; warm light glows in the opening of the door, illuminating the edge of Slade's face as she leans closer, shakes me again, and says, "it's time to go."

I'm wobbly as Slade tails me to the door, tugging her hood up around her face. The train is slowing to a halt; for what feels like a long time, we just stand there and wait for it to come to a full stop. I sway as the train rocks; beside me, Slade manages to stay perfectly upright, solid as a stone even when the brakes chuff and the whole floor jolts.

We unload in silence, Slade helping me down before she turns and just heaves her bike up in her arms and hops off. The city is long gone; we're in the middle of some little forested town as the sun starts to set, casting long golden rays of late light through the thin brown trees as we pad silently away from the long train and into the mushy underbrush.

"Where are we going?" We've come to the edge of an empty road, bordered on both sides only by scraggly trees and cold golden light. Nobody here; just me, Slade, Jethawk, and a whole lot of quiet road with no end in sight.

"Dunno." Slade props Jethawk up against her knee as she pauses to stretch, arms raised over her head as her eyes squeeze shut and she cracks her neck to either side. "Wherever."

"Do you know where we are?"

"No." She dusts off the sides of her bike, kneeling down briefly to run her hand along the spoke of the wheel to brush off a loose bit of what I think is straw. "Doesn't matter. We're far enough for now."

I frown, tugging my clothes tighter around me as she walks out into the street with her bike at her hip. She glances both ways, shifting unevenly from foot to foot; a frosty breeze catches the side of her hood, threatening to unseat it from her head as wisps of hair bluster messily around her face. Her eyes are electric green in the cold light; I only realize how close I am when those electric green hues come down to land on me, brow furrowed in confusion.

"What?" Her cheeks are dark from the cold; ink-black hair sways over her face as I just stare up at her with a dumb, blank look in my eyes.

"You're so pretty."

Her eyes open just a little wider before she swallows and looks away, setting her jaw and looking back at the bike as she works to find a response.

"Don't...say that," she manages, voice low. "Not right now."

"Why not?" I take a step closer, trying to get in front of her again. "It's true. You're really pretty, Slade."

"Stop." She turns further away, voice lowering to a grumble, and that's when I realize why.

We're alone on an empty road. We're alone, together, on an empty road. She has nowhere to go, no choice but to —

"Don't tell me I'm getting you flustered, Slade." I sneak a little closer. "You can't handle me calling you pretty? Is cute better?"

"No. No." She shakes her head furiously, shifting to face the bike. "Get on, we need to go. Find somewhere before nightfall."

"Adorable works too." I slink a little closer as Slade, apparently now faced with the issue of having nowhere else to go, slings a leg over the bike, straddling the thing between her calves. "Slade, you're adorable. Is that better?"

Slade's shaking her head hastily, refusing to meet my eyes as I smirk and catch the dark crimson bleeding over her face from more than just the cold. She tugs her hood up, hard, fingers toying with the strings. "No. No, it's...worse, just get on, we don't have time, we—!"

Despite her obstinate arguments, Slade is relatively soft against my mouth. She's frozen in my arms as one winds around her waist and the other knots in the front of her hoodie; her argument dies out in her throat as I turn my head and sneak in a short nip to the soft pad of her lower lip. Her breath puffs out from her nose against my skin; she leans slightly down into me, even with both of her hands wrapped around the handlebars.

We've only ever kissed in three places—the barn, my apartment, and the train a few hours ago. And, forgive me for my so-soon indulgence, but god, she's magnetic, she's a warm magnet on the empty road and I feel briefly like we're something out of a Hallmark film. Long, empty road winding through a tall, leafless winter forest; early winter evening, everything lit by warm gold and her, her, just breathing in my arms, mouth warm on mine. Warm in the way a big, comfortable bed is when you've just gotten out of the shower and you're cold and you bury yourself under layers of soft fluffy sheets and duvets. A homely warm.

Like a real couple.

That thought comes up from nowhere as I pull away, and even as I'm ready to make faces at myself I'm already meeting Slade's eyes, her luminous green eyes as she looks down at me with something indecipherable in her gaze. Her lips are parted, though whether in shock or in sudden desire I'm not sure; the swell of her lungs is tangible under her vest as I offer her an amicable, rather awkward pat on the shoulder and slink down around the seat of the bike behind her, knees tucking messily into the folds of hers as, slowly, she sits.

I lean forward, melting into the shape of her back as my arms wind and close around her waist, head leaned against her upper spine as I look dreamily off into the forest and breathe in the familiar husky smell of smoke and something wild.

A real couple. It's the first time that thought has occurred to me; we're out in the middle of who-knows-where, together, just stealing hours. We don't have anything to do besides exist.

I have thoughts. Lots of them. Slade and I, out for dinner. Slade and I, out to the movies. Slade and I, driving around the foreign streets and looking at the Christmas lights. That would be coming up soon, and sure, I'm not exactly an avid church attendee and Slade has a million things she could (and maybe should) do instead of religion, but spending the season together sounds so nice. Baking cookies, watching holiday movies, maybe doing something stupid like using her hood as a stocking and filling it with the chocolate I'm starting to think she has a huge affinity for.

Together. Doing couple-y things. Traditions together, holidays together, just the two of us, or...maybe more, someday, or...

No! No! No! Do not start envisioning a family with her. Do not.

But the bike rumbles on, and as the very real Slade in front of me leans slightly down and we start to move, I do start envisioning a family with Slade. Kids seem...not wise and actually scary, at least right now, but I could see us with a pet. Maybe a cat. A little rescue cat, probably one of the black ones. We'd name it Jet; rather, I'd name it Jet, and Slade would groan and tell me to shut up about the damn bike. Maybe we'd get two. A slightly sillier looking one, with big ol' bug eyes and spots and one foot that's a little too big for its leg.

Or maybe a dog. I can see Slade having a big scary dog, like a Doberman, but instead of being mean and snarl-y it's just a big lovable idiot with long legs and a long nose and a bark that sounds mean but really it's just "play with me, play with me!"

Maybe we'd get something less normal. Less regular. Maybe we'd just befriend something on the street; a cunning little raccoon, or a coy raven. Maybe a snake.

"You alive back there?" Slade's head turns; she briefly meets my eyes as I flinch and glance up at her, shaking myself out of my head.

"What? Yeah. I'm fine." I offer her a little smile; she just gives one solitary nod in response and then faces forward again, giving the bike a little gas.

I watch the trees slide by, go along the roadside and sway behind us. I watch the world melt past in a symphony of brown and muddy silver and blue, all cast in an evening haze.

A real couple. Slade and I, a real couple.

Oh, I can only dream.