Chrys may have taken the line too lightly, unknown to its true, secreted meaning. Nora ambled out of the building – this time through the door and not the window.
"Need a ride back?" she turned to ask Chrys before she left her again. She didn't want to repeat the same mistake twice.
Chrys instinctively followed, still mentally making peace with her pulsing confusion.
To Chrys' surprise, she was welcomed by not a car or taxi, but a dark grey and shiny stalled motorcycle. A Harley-Davidson Street 500 – certainly pricey and renowned.
"This is yours?" Chrys looked the vehicle up and down, concealing her wonder.
Nora nodded jovially. She lobbed the sleek helmet to Chrys, who caught it with two hands.
"I won't be needing it," Nora said as she began pinning her pony tail into a bun. "Hop on."
The ride was exhilarating – Chrys' first experience on a such a bike. She had her hands gripped on Nora's waist, keeping her balance as well as she could. It invoked so many senses that were never engaged during any other form of transportation.
As they rode away from the ambient, more rural areas of the city, Chrys caught sight of the continuously active town during midnight. The world encompassing them waked, as lively as the stars. The wind crawled under her skin and the rows of skyscraper windows glowed like silver chains, towering above them. Chrys clutched on with every breathtaking traction. She allowed herself to submit to the rising and falling of temperatures, in addition to the thrill of the acceleration.
She loved this. Freedom; aliveness. A sense of purpose. Someone to hold onto – a feeling she missed dearly.
At a red light, Nora craned her neck, giving Chrys a wide, beaming grin. What a sight. And at that moment, all Chrys' aggressiveness, regrets and pessimism fell completely still to the architecture of Nora. It all melted.
And she'd never felt anything like it. Not even with Katherine.
At green, Nora lifted her foot from the ground and sped off. Chrys lingered with her emotion. She watched the back of Nora's head. Her nape was visible.
In comparison to Nora, Katherine was her polar opposite. Kath was just a centimetre taller than Chrys (in heels) and had dazzling, flaming hair. She was voluptuous, thinly framed and obsessive about her appearance. Sexy over cute. Dishonest at times, but gregarious. Much more serious; attractively mature. Feminine.
Despite it being about two years since her death, Chrys still knew her so well. Her everyday habits – such as how she occasionally twirled her hair between her fingers, fluttering under her eyelashes. The way she scented of romantic perfume. Familiar. Sentiment gripped her throat as she thought about it.
"I'm heading to my apartment, 'kay?" Nora shouted with the rushing wind. Chrys didn't refuse: she was eager to know where she lived and how it might've manifested her ranging personality. They made a right turn to an elevated apartment complex. Chrys imprisoned the image of Katherine back into the corner of her brain. Now was not nearly the time to grow nostalgic.
Nora parked her bike and they nodded to the doorman as .
The metal elevator doors curtained open. They both stepped in as Chrys noticed the design of its sumptuous and modern interior, which was reflected through the layout of the whole building.
There was a chiming ding at the fourth floor, inviting a waft that smelled of fresh refurbishments – alien, but uplifting. The apartment lobby area was adorned with Picasso-like, abstract paintings and vases of gracefully arranged gerberas, which stood foreground to a warm, cloudy grey wallpaper and gentle white lights. Chrys tagged along like a curious feline as Nora made her way to her front door.
YOU ARE READING
If You Need Someone to Talk to
Mystery / Thriller"Call me if you need someone to talk to" was the note that came with a phone number, written on a napkin and slipped discretely into Crys' back pocket. Too drunk to remember anything from that particular night, Crys is defeated by her cur...
