It's fair to say that Lindsey doesn't exactly bring out the best in me. But when she messaged offering me a ride home, seeing as she was coming to get James anyway, I was thankful. Especially given the alternative was waiting an unspecified amount of time on a windy station platform for some replacement buses which might or might not show up while listening to folk around me debate whether the continual track failures were principally an infrastructure problem or an underinvestment problem or a climate change problem...
I was thankful, but...the first thing she said to me as I tucked myself into the economy-sized back seat of her Toyota Starlet behind James was;
"Gawd. You need to get that hair seen to yesterday, Jezza. You're into hobo territory by now..."
I felt my shoulders rise. Jezza. I just can't cure her of it. And yeah, okay, Lindsey...maybe I actually realise I need a haircut and maybe my barber has a broken wrist at the moment and maybe I'm not comfortable with just anybody touching my head...
I couldn't say that of course, because she'd come back with some version of hey you don't seem to have a problem letting just anybody touch your... Yeah. Nah. Don't need to hear that from my sister. And what the hell does she know? I'm practically celibate now I'm not living in town anymore...
I shoved my laptop bag into the tiny crevice in front of my knees, willed my shoulders to relax, reminded myself I was grateful. Then she wound down her window, leaned out, and bawled;
"Goin' to Waikanae! I got one seat free to Waikanae! Any takers?"
Ahhh, come on, Lindsey! I wailed internally. There isn't any room! And if I wanted to sit cheek-to-cheek with some rando I could've just waited for the bloody bus, couldn't I? Why do you always have to-
A body filled the space by her window and I heard a voice ask;
"Any chance you could let me out at Paekākāriki? Just by the crossing would be fine."
"No probs, matey," Lindsey brayed, "no probs at all. I gotta drop Jezza off there anyway. Hop on in."
It was unfortunate, bad timing - super bad timing - that that was the last 'Jezza' which finally broke the camel's back. As the door opposite me opened and the body lowered itself in, I hissed;
"I prefer Jeremy actually..."
It was said, and I couldn't un-say it, so it just hung there for several moments, like a levitating turd in the small awkward space between me and...goddamnit...quite possibly the most beautiful man I'd ever laid eyes on, before he murmured;
"Ahh...good to know..."
Fuck, he was stunning. Broad shouldered and well filled out beneath, solid but not fat, square jaw, loose dark curls, big expressive eyes and full lips that right now were slightly...bunched...tensed, trying not to laugh. At me. At my precious, fussy, old-fashioned demand to be called by my whole name. I didn't blame him. I blamed myself. And Lindsey.
He got his amusement under control and turned to me fully. "I'm Quinn," he breathed.
As usual, Lindsey barged in before I could do anything to repair the situation. "Hey, Quinn! Welcome to the world's crappiest limo service! I'm Lindsey and this is James. How long've you been living up the coast?"
I got the sense he didn't necessarily want to chat, but she managed to wrangle a sentence or two out of him. He'd been living in town until a couple of months ago when his flatting situation kinda went nuclear, causing him to need somewhere else to stay - fast - and there was nothing available, just nothing.
"I mentioned it at work," he said, "and one of my colleagues told me her sleep-out had recently come free and I could sublet it if I wanted. I like the place, but the commute's...uhh...a pain in the arse."
