Tripping| Van McCann

9. Rigmarole

Sammy's P.O.V.

We both agreed to try out cuisines of different countries instead of fast-food pickups. So we had our brunch in an Indian restaurant, and we're so far enjoying the curry there.

"Christ, this tastes nice," he exclaimed, jabbing his finger into the curry sauce once again, licking it with his tongue in slow motion, like he never got enough of it and craved more.

"This is gross," I said, my face twisted as I watched him licking his finger seductively. "Are you trying to flirt with me or what?"

He stopped, throwing his arms into the air, "well, I was just showing you how lovely this curry is and I'm gonna go to this place again next time. Lemme mark it down first."

"You'd better not be bringing me to curry again tomorrow," I retorted.

"What a nice idea," he played along cheerfully.

It was weird that neither of us brought up the fact that we kissed each other once for twice, and yet we're acting like we were before, except that I felt the distance between us was pulled closer, but there was still something unsaid and unsettled between us that both of us were trying to get rid of.

I finished off my meal and gulped down the cup of water because the spice had made my tongue hot enough. In the corner of my eyes, I saw him glancing at me. His face glimmered, both sides of his lips drew upwards into a curve. I acted as if I didn't notice at all, so he brought up the subject himself, "Jeez, you look very funny indeed." He laughed, his lips were slightly apart and let out a few chuckles. I couldn't help but did the same.

"Alright, it's not like I can bear the spice as you do," I said in surrender. His mouth opened like he was ready to say something, even though he left it and didn't pick up from what he was trying to reach out to me.

We went back to the car and fitted ourselves into the seats.

"Where do you wanna go?" he inquired, his hands were on the steering wheel, his right feet tapping the throttle rhythmically.

"Well, I certainly have no answers provided to your questions, Sir," I answered mimically to his mockery earlier on the day.

"Maybe..." he paused to think, "We can go to Newcastle? We can find Bondy there, he's my guitarist, very skilled and I love him lots for that." he said cheekily.

"Alright," I said, my eyes on the green lights. "Just hit the pedal, would you?" I rolled my eyes at him. As we stopped in the middle of the road earlier, the traffic lights switched green whereabouts vehicles started beeping behind us impatiently.

"Shit," he mouthed to himself, his feet dabbed the pedal, the engine started again as the car motioned forwards.

"We've almost gathered ourselves loads of enemies out there," I satirised.

"Yeah," he chortled, let out a few uneasy breaths. "That could've attracted the cops and we'll be done."

"And I'll ditch you to that, you know," I joked playfully.

"Nevermind, I'll make you stay with me in jail. And we'll be partners in crime," he whistled briskly.

"In fact that we didn't do anything illicit at all," I shrugged. We're so in depth of the jokes we had made ourselves.

"Yeah, as you and me are normal folks who are just too innocent to be put up to that," he added.

"You should be excluded from this so-called 'innocent folks' list as you're not even qualified for that," I air-quoted.

"Oh, that's well good I suppose," he replied cheerily. "Like it's so rare to see you talk that lot," he turned to look at me as we halted to a stop, waiting for the signals to change.