Love/Fail

Chapter 6

Annoying Pinspiration Quote #6

"Failure is a bruise, not a tattoo."

I was covering the counter of the shop for Dad on Wednesday when Rupert waltzed in. I was drinking a coconut water at the time, and until that moment, I'd believed that theatrical projectile spitting only happened in the movies. When I caught sight of Rupert's outfit, I started to choke on my drink, then had to spit most of it out or dry-drown.

"Do you love it?" he said, performing a twirl for me.

As I coughed too hard to answer, I took another look at his attire for the day. His hair was caught up in an artful man-bun, and his sassy eyes were wide with excitement. Below that he wore a white sleeveless shirt under a blue sequined jacket that would have made a Michael Jackson drag tribute show gasp. Rainbow suspenders were clipped to his bike shorts, which were hugging his form immodestly, and on his feet he wore jolly red clown shoes, extending far beyond his toes.

And yet even with all of that, he still looked gorgeous. People like Rupert didn't need flawless fashion; who they were simply shone through the layers. His body was lean and sculpted, his posture confident and his grin irrepressible. Never had my dad's store seen a more dazzling, albeit bizarre customer within its walls.

Still, his ego didn't need that kind of pandering, so I cleared my throat, wiped my tears and remarked, "I'm not sure what it is. Where exactly are we off to today?"

"All in good time, Mia love."

Dad clomped down the stairs, emerging into the shop, and without missing a beat or batting an eyelid, he crossed to Rupert and shook his hand. "Rupert, good to see you, lad."

"You too, Mr Pike, sir. I promise, I'll return your girl in one piece, and have her home no later than midnight."

"Meh. Keep her longer – she's not a pumpkin. All she'll do is monopolise the television watching that Ship of Lust show."

"Dad!"

"Goodbye, young people!" Dad booted us out the door, and I tried to breathe calmly to get my blush down.

Rupert grinned. He might have felt my embarrassment, but he was too kind to make fun. Or perhaps he felt that a man wearing clown shoes and enough sequins to make an eighties prom dress blush shouldn't laugh at anyone else, but I doubted that his outfit impacted his state of mind in the slightest. "Are you ready, love?"

"Sure. For what?"

"Well, for bicycles, for starters." We walked across the main road outside Dad's shop, to where a line of fresh green bikes waited in stands. "Did you know, your city just has these bikes? And anyone can get one? And it only costs three quid for the day? You Aussies, you're all a bit mental, aren't you?"

"Hey, the bike share system rocks, thanks." I grabbed for a helmet and clipped it on. "I love riding – great idea."

"I am wearing bike shorts," he explained, waggling his rump at me. "It would be a shame to waste an arse this fantastic in any way other than waving in high in the face of daytime city folk as we glide by."

"Gliding by to where, exactly?"

"To your next epic fail, my pet. Tally ho!"

We pushed off into the sunny day, and although I'd doubted that anyone could have ridden a bicycle in giant shoes, his form was flawless. The breeze pushed along behind us as we travelled north, sticking to leafy park paths and wide, safe bike lanes.