Try For Me | Zelink AU

Guilty Face

Washing Machine Heart—Mitski

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There's still my lip gloss smudged by his mouth. A small pink sheen smeared on the lips I already love the feel of.

I left it there when I saw it, feeling giddy at the mere thought a boy had it on his face because of me.

He glances over now, giving me a slight smile with that hour dripping from it. I can still feel his hands skimming under the hem of my shirt or moving along my thighs. He was gentle. Lazy even, lounging in the seat, pulling me closer each time I drifted too far.

The memory fresh and raw, I watch the houses on my street pass by, already looking forward to him walking me to the door and planting more kisses on my mouth. That is until his headlights reveal the car in my driveway. It can't already be that late. Late almost never means he's coming home that same night.

"Keep driving," I nearly shriek. The blood leaving my face, I drop lower than the windows, promising to go to church tomorrow if it means Father didn't see me in Mustang Boy's car.

"Where am I taking you instead?"

"Impa's." I peek above the door to ensure we're past before righting myself in the seat. "Turn right over there."

He goes where I tell him to, not saying much for a few moments until: "You're not very good at this."

"I thought I would have been home by now," I say by way of defense. His shoulders seem to tense and I scramble for another explanation. "He said he wasn't going to be home until late." And he's going to be upset by the time I make my way there.

"Didn't you leave a note if he's that neurotic?" I blink in surprise at the fact he knows that word exists. Maybe he does read.

"No..." Looking back now, leaving a note makes perfect sense. I could have told him I was staying at Impa's in the first place. Being grounded is going to seem easy once I try to lie my way out again. "What about you? Aren't your parents wondering where you are?"

"They don't care much about where I am." He turns the last bend to Impa's street, continuing before I can ask more questions. "Just tell him you forgot to leave a note."

"He'll ask why."

"Then lie."

Like I have been.

"Lying doesn't work well on him."

"I think you're a terrible liar then, Freckles."

"I am not," I say just before telling him the house covered in car wash decorations belongs to the girl claiming I want to have a dozen of his babies. "I just haven't needed to lie."

He parks in the street and turns to me, enjoying every bit of my excuses. "I guess you'll have to figure it out unless you're going to take me home."

If I did that, his parents would never see him again. Our faces would end up on a missing poster hung on a corner.

But missing posters aside, I smile as he leans in, closing my eyes as I wait for the pink-smudged lips to kiss away my worries. He parts his mouth as before, sinking into me like he's looking for the same thing.

It's silly to think it's too soon when he pulls away after that hour at the movie. An hour where his lips didn't leave mine and I enjoyed every second of it.

I check Impa's window when he walks around the car, opening the door with nothing but him on my mind once I see her light is on behind her blinds. The street scrapes my bare feet, reminding me of my lack of shoes.