Blahhh Black Woman

Blinking a couple of times, you swallow your saliva more times than you have spoken today. Your eyes flicker over to your mother, who sits by the bay window, staring down at the courtyard, full of people from different kingdoms, making their way inside. The slow sips she takes of the hibiscus tea bring you a sense of home.

Something you were sure you would never feel again. Ripped from your hands, much before you could lay a kiss on it or hug it like it was a toy you loved since you were a child. 

That very pain continued in your heart, soaring higher than mountains. Yes, you have met the Queen, once, an accidental moment. Months prior to this day, you found her wandering in your garden as she and her mother visited for the approval from your mother and father.

Her eyes captured you like an angel beckoning you to the heavens, her voice and seraphic laughter kissed your soul repeatedly, making you want more. 

You were certain that it was all for business on her behalf. Why would she feel anything for someone she had only met once? Why would anyone? But when you stand still, admiring the detailed wedding dress, handpicked by your mother and aunts, it is not just fear alone that stays in your heart. It was hope.

Hope for a new world, a new generation, a gift to hand to your people. When trust and harmony are restored, despair will not make a home.

A knock on the door pulls you and your mother out of both of your thoughts. You watch her as she makes her way to the door, opening it with a smile and a gasp. Bowing her head, “Your Majesty?” She exclaims, Mel nods and smiles, her eyes finding yours.

Her heart skips at the sight of you.

Letting out a sigh, she swallows down her saliva. “You look magnificent.” She starts, you glance at the fabric of the dress, holding back a smile. You watch your maid stand, letting out a sigh. “We will give you some time.” Your mother stands and nods. You nod back at her, watching as the two leave. The sounds of the door shutting behind them, your nerves spiking up once again.

Her heels click as she walks further in the room, her scent strong and warm. “It seems every time we see each other, I am left breathless by your beauty,” Mel states, now standing behind you.

Her fingers rest over yours. Leaning her chin over your shoulder, admiring each other’s beauty.

Mel’s fingers caress your skin, your eyes flicker to her lips, wearing lipstick you wish to wipe off with your lips. “You look regal.” You whisper, earning a wide smile and a giggle. 

“I can not believe today is the day I marry the most beautiful woman I’ve laid my eyes on.” Mel lets out, turning your body to face her fully. She holds both of your hands, her eyes gleam with care. Free from the worries, ready to pour love into you if you allow it.

She was no fool to the doubts your heart harbors. Resting her hand against your cheek, “What clouds your mind, love?” She mutters, Your heart beats a thousand times faster because of her voice. You shrug, “Why did you choose me out of all the two hundred women you’ve met?” You question, not out of insecurity but genuine curiosity. 

You see the smirk etched on her face, she pulls your hand to her, and now walks towards the bay window. Your brows crinkle, but you trail behind. Looking out, the sun glares against the window, with trees that try their best to cover the rays. Grass freshly cut, with children running around on it and parents yelling at them to be respectful. This was your home now. “I chose you from the kindness you give to others, to your analytical skills, and, more importantly. You choose community and compassion every time. I admire you, and hope one day, you will grow to like me too.” She whispers, standing behind you again, her eyes focused on the living painting that is.

You turn your head to Mel, a smile appearing on your face too. “I fear that day is here.” You mutter, earning a giggle from her. You stretch your hand out to her, feeling her pick it up.

Titling your head a little, your heart swells at the sight of your goddess. A small understanding that everything will be more than okay. “I’m ready to be yours from today on.” You whisper. Pulling her closer, she rests her chin on your shoulder, wrapping her arm around your waist.

“I am ready to belong to you from when I wake, to when I sleep, to when we fight. I will always choose you, remember this.” She murmurs, pressing a kiss on your neck, her lipstick staining your skin.

Fear did not corrupt your heart anymore; you were willing to understand her. You were ready to give your life into her hands. Mel, your angel who searched from the heavens to make a sanctuary dedicated to you.

Death could not pull you away from her; the universe understood that, sculpting situations to place your souls together in every life.

i fear i am in love with mel, her beauty is timeless.

© wiinterz. my inbox is always open!!

That’s when you finally see her, standing waist deep in the middle of the river, her delicate hands clasped neatly in front of her. 

Your mother. 

She says your name ever so softly as you approach, your feet feeling heavier with each step you take. Her eyes are dull and lifeless, practically looking through you as you stop before her—a shell of the woman that raised you. 

“You know why we have to do this, don’t you, sweetheart?” Her voice is soothing and gentle as her hands reach up to cradle your face, brushing away the tears now freely spilling down your cheeks. 

You frantically shake your head as her familiar features start to blur. 

“Mom, please,” you plead, voice trembling as the hands holding you fall away and they move to settle on your shoulders instead. “It doesn't have to be like this.”  

“Oh my love,” she sighs, tone still utterly patient as she forces you down onto your knees and deeper into the frigid water. "You are unclean. You were given many chances to repent and you still chose to sin.” 

Her words settle like a stone in your gut, sharp and heavy. Flashes of pretty eyes and too soft lips bring you back to the night before and the weight of her hands on your shoulders presses down harder.   

“But I didn’t do anything wrong,” you grit out, bowing your head. 

“See? The apostate still won’t admit to her own wickedness.” His voice slices through the air then, carving into your skin like a blade and you shrink further in on yourself. “You leave us with no other choice.”

Your eyes flick back up to meet your mother’s gaze, lower lip wobbling as you softly plead for her to put an end to this but she just slowly shakes her head. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, eyes flickering with something close to regret before she finally shoves you beneath the surface. 

The water burns as it fills your lungs and you thrash violently against her firm grip, a surge of panic claws its way through your chest as darkness begins to shroud the edges of your vision. 

No, not again. Please not again.

Faintly, you hear your name over the rush of water, the sound distant and muffled like someone is calling out to you from the surface. 

But when you try to reach for them, another set of hands drags you deeper—holding you just out of reach. And god, you want to scream, to fight harder but your limbs feel too heavy as that all consuming dread begins to tighten its grip.

That’s when you hear it again—your name, only it sounds much closer than before.  

A large wave slams against the side of the boat, casting a cold mist across your face and you jerk away, your shoulder slamming against something solid and warm. 

Abby.

Your pulse stutters as the memory begins to fracture around you. The pressure on your shoulders vanishes on the wind and a rush of fresh air floods your lungs as you suck in a shuddering breath. Your mother, the river, none of it was real—it was just a memory. 

You’re still in the boat. You’re safe. 

But everything still feels too loud. The rush of the wind as it whips across your face, the waves crashing against the hull and the sound of your own heartbeat echoing in your ears. And for a moment, your mind still struggles to separate the memory from reality. 

Then you feel it—the warmth of Abby’s palm against the small of your back, her thigh flush against your own. Her touch grounds you, faster than you ever would’ve thought possible. And the realization makes your heart flutter erratically beneath your ribs, only it's not from panic this time, but something far more dangerous. 

“Hey,” Abby leans in then, her voice a low rasp against your ear. “Just breathe, we’re almost there.” 

Another wave crashes against the boat and you tense, gripping the edge of the seat to steady yourself and holding on so tightly that your fingers start to ache. Manny chooses that exact moment to glance over his shoulder at the two of you, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

But he says nothing, for which you’re grateful. 

Before long, the city of Bellevue—or rather what remains of it comes into view. A thick array of trees line the edges of the shoreline, concealing any easy vantage point into the city center. Manny kills the engine about twenty feet from shore, and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck bristle. 

Being a full-time medic, the furthest you had ever ventured outside the stadium was the FOB, so you weren't as knowledgeable about how far the WLF’s territory reached. So as Manny began to quietly paddle the rest of the way to shore, your guard immediately goes up. 

“What exactly are we walking into here?” you ask softly, your fingers loosening their death grip on the seat to rest atop your holster. 

“We have soldiers that routinely patrol the city, it was so overrun with infected after the outbreak that FEDRA had it quarantined.” Abby explains, finally dropping her hand from where it rested against the small of your back. She leans forward then, setting her elbows on her knees as her eyes carefully scan the shoreline. 

“We’ve cleared it enough to be able to do supply runs without incident, but you can never be too careful.” Manny adds, but his words seem to lighten something in your chest. 

Infected were normally easier to deal with, they were predictable. 

It was people that you had to be wary of.  

The front of the boat scrapes against the rocky shore with a rough thud and your fingers instinctively tighten around your holster. Abby is the first one out of the boat, rising from her seat in one fluid motion. And you can't help but stare as she grips onto the edge of the hull, moving with the kind of easy confidence that you've always secretly envied. She lands on the rocks with a wet smack, her boots somehow managing to find purchase against the slick surface.

Manny quickly follows suit, shooting you a playful wink before hopping over the edge of the boat. You manage to stifle an eye roll as you clamber after them and step out onto the rocky shore. You keep your eyes trained on the rocks beneath your feet, careful not to take a wrong step and twist your ankle.

However, the closer you get to dry land, the faster you move, suddenly far too eager to put as much distance between yourself and the water as possible. So you don't notice the thick clump of seaweed that clings to the rocks lining the shore until it's too late—and your foot slips out from beneath you. Abby’s at your side in an instant, practically appearing out of thin air as she gently grips onto your elbow to steady you again. 

“You good?” she asks, helping to guide you across the last few steps. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, releasing a relieved breath once you boots touch solid ground. “All good.” But you can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment when her touch falls away.

Something warm settles beneath your ribs as you catch the faintest hint of a smile on her lips as she turns and begins trudging toward the treeline. 

“I saw that,” Manny says under his breath as he passes you. 

"Saw what?" you sigh, exasperated. 

A familiar, teasing grin begins to tug at the corner of his mouth. "Nothing." But the bastard doesn't sound even remotely convincing.

"Manny," you hiss, eyes flicking over to Abby's retreating figure.

"¿Qué?" he asks, far too innocently and you narrow your eyes.

"Don't even start."

But instead of teasing you any further he just laughs, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze and continuing onward toward the treeline.

You release a small huff through your nose, closing your eyes as you tip your head back to allow the sun warm your face. You linger there for a moment longer, until the tightness in your chest begins to subside. But the faint call of your name draws your eyes back open.

Abby stands several paces ahead, past the thick line of trees. Sunlight filters through the canopy above, casting shadows along her freckled skin as she beckons you over, with Manny now at her other side. So you take one last steadying breath, adjust the strap of your pack and follow after them through the trees. 

 The sunshine doesn’t last, but it rarely ever does here. Dark storm clouds began to roll in the further you descended into the city center, taking the last of the day's warmth with it. The rain came down in heavy sheets, drenching the three of you in seconds. 

The outline of the decrepit hospital loomed in the distance, just a few miles ahead now. But it was clear with every shuddering breath you released, that it would be stupid to continue trudging through the storm. 

“Let’s take shelter for a bit, yeah?” Manny shouts as the rain continues to pelt down from the ever darkening sky. “This rain isn’t going to let up anytime soon.” 

You wrap your arms further around yourself, motioning toward an old music store just across the street. “What about there?”

The large storefront window was completely shattered, offering you an unobstructed view inside the small store. It was practically empty and only had one level, which seemed like the safest option to hunker down until the storm died down a bit. 

Abby nods stiffly, turning to walk toward the store without saying a word to either of you. Manny met your questioning gaze but merely shrugged before crossing the street to follow behind her. 

She'd been like this for most of the afternoon—withdrawn and quiet, suddenly distant in a way that made your chest feel tight. 

It had started in the woods. 

The three of you had been walking for a couple hours at that point, slowly making your way through the lush, overgrowth. Abby had kept a steady pace beside you while Manny had pulled ahead, only glancing back every so often to catch her guiding you over fallen log or steering you around a tangle of exposed roots. 

The silence that had fallen between you didn't feel nearly as awkward as it had that morning but anytime you tried to initiate a conversation, your nerves got the better of you and the words got caught in your throat. So you settled for stealing small glances at her whenever you thought she wasn't paying attention. 

It wasn't until you stopped for a short break that you really started to notice a change in her demeanor. 

The mid-afternoon sun had shone brightly overhead by the time the trees started to thin and the path opened up into a large clearing where a crumbling highway lay just beyond it. 

A soft breeze filtered through the trees, rustling the dead leaves at your feet as Abby continued forward and settled herself onto a large boulder, carefully shrugging off her pack to pull out an apple and her canteen. She seemed lost in her thoughts as you took a seat beside Manny on a fallen log and reached to grab a stale granola bar out of your own pack. 

“It’s sort of…peaceful here,” you murmured, taking a small bite as your eyes wandered around the clearing. “But I find it extremely odd that we haven’t run into any infected yet.”

“Like I told you earlier, amiga,” Manny playfully nudged your shoulder with his own. “Our crews don’t mess around.”

You hummed in agreement as your eyes slowly drifted back over to where Abby sat. Her brows were furrowed in concentration as she pulled a shiv from the inside of her boot and sliced into her apple. Juices from the overly ripe fruit dribbled down her fingers and you held back a small shudder when she had the audacity to suck them from her thumb. 

Images of her full lips, swollen and slick with your saliva flashed through your mind in an instant, your dream coming back to haunt you in the harsh afternoon light. Heat curled low in your belly as she bit into the apple slice, her lower lip jutting out ever so slightly as she chewed. 

God, was her mouth always this distracting? 

A large hand suddenly sliced through the air—mere inches from your face, immediately snapping you out of your daze. You stiffened, feeling a rush of heat creeping up the back of your neck at the realization that Manny had caught you gawking at her. Again. 

"Sorry, did you say something?" you stuttered.

"Ay dios mío, princesa," Manny practically purred, scooting closer to you on the log as your gaze fell, dropping to focus on the worn leather of your boots instead. "You've really got it bad, eh?" 

"Yeah," you hushed under your breath, unable to hide the sudden disdain in your voice. "Pretty pathetic, isn't it?"

His brows furrowed. "Well, I wouldn't say that," he murmured, his tone suddenly far more serious as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "But it might be more mutual than you think." 

As much as you wanted to believe that, Abby's words from earlier kept repeating over and over in your head like some sort of cruel mantra. I'm never too busy to help a friend. A friend. All you'll ever be to her is a friend. 

As if Manny had sensed you starting to spiral, he took that opportunity to lean in closer, whispering something in your ear that had you gasping aloud and playfully shoving him away. It was clear he wasn't expect that kind of reaction from you, because he ended tumbling backwards off the log before he could steady himself and landed in a small heap on the ground. 

A surprised giggle burst from your throat as you stood, glancing back to find him playfully glaring up at you from where he was still sprawled in the dirt. But lighthearted energy of the afternoon seemed to disintegrate as a cluster of dark storm clouds passed overhead, blocking out the sun and your laughter instantly died in your throat. 

"We're losing daylight," Abby said suddenly, her tone sharp and clipped. "Let's keep moving." You turned to find her already back on her feet, jaw tensed but her expression completely unreadable. 

From that moment on, she'd barely uttered a word to either of you. 

Glass crunches under your boots as you step over the threshold and your eyes slowly survey the small store. Band posters litter the walls, their once glossy finishes now torn and faded. Vines crawl up to fill in the empty spaces beside them and thick patches of ferns spill past the entrance as if Mother Nature was finally claiming what was rightfully hers. 

You'd like to imagine what this place might have looked like in its prime, before the world had completely gone to shit. When the shelves lining the edges of the room were filled with hundreds of records and you could lose an entire afternoon leafing through them all, like you had nowhere else in the world to be. 

And you find yourself wishing for the simplicity of the old world more often than you'd ever care to admit.

Taking another step further into the space, you shake the rain from your sleeves and try to stave off the chill beginning to settle into your bones. Dust particles swirl through the air with each step you take, the smell of mildew and damp earth overpowering your senses.

But as you trudge toward the back of the store, the toe of your boot catches the edge of a discarded CD, sending it skittering across the warped floorboards. You mutter a soft curse under your breath as it slams into one of the shelves, causing the case to pop open from the impact. But upon closer inspection, you're surprised to find the disc inside is still intact. 

It was still somewhat of a rarity to find relics from the old world that weren't completely destroyed by time, or the elements. So you find yourself crossing the short distance to pick it up, carefully closing the cover before wiping away years worth of dust with the sleeve of your jacket. Your fingers instantly tighten around the cracked case, the plastic now worn and cloudy with age—but you’d recognize that cover anywhere. 

Selena’s Amor Prohibido.

Everything around you seems to fall away in an instant: the music store, the heavy patter of the rain, the tension in your shoulders. 

And suddenly you're eight years old again, back in that cramped studio apartment filled with your mother’s bright laughter and salty sea air. You’re sitting on your bed, clutching the worn album in your small hands and watching in awe as she spins and twirls barefoot around your shared space. She was glowing, carefree and happy in a way you’d seemingly forgotten she could be. 

Before he twisted her into someone cold and unrecognizable. 

“Come here, my little bird,” she says with a smile, her eyes crinkling around the corners as she reaches out a hand for you to take. 

The memory fractures in an instant as a roll of thunder cracks loudly overhead, bringing you back down to reality. But you're unable to stop the tears from blurring your vision as you grip onto the case so tightly that the plastic creaks beneath the pressure of your fingers. 

“Hey, you alright, chica?” Manny’s voice is soft, his concerned face coming into focus a moment later, and you quickly rub at your damp eyes. 

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “I’m good.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t push.

“Whatcha got there?” He says instead, glancing down at the CD in your hands. 

“Oh it’s, um,” you clear your throat. “Just something my mom used to play a lot when I was a kid. I honestly never thought I’d find another copy of it.” 

When the Santa Barbara QZ fell, you were forced to leave behind everything that ever mattered to you—including that happy, carefree version of your mother. 

“Well, I see you both have great taste, cariño.” He grins, lightly nudging you with his hip. “Anything for Selena’s, eh?” 

The corner of your mouth pulls up in a small smile, but it’s his off-key rendition of Bidi Bidi Bom Bom that pulls a genuine laugh from your throat. 

Across the store, Abby freezes, her fingers tightening on the straps of her pack. The way you just laughed at whatever Manny just said has her stomach twisting with something close to indignation—because it was a real laugh, one that she’s never heard directed at her before.  

Trust me, Abs, she likes you. Manny had whispered to her in the mess hall just a few hours earlier and she hated that she let herself believe it for even a second. That she'd be so easily convinced that her feelings weren't completely one-sided, or that the way she caught you looking at her sometimes actually meantsomething. 

But now she finds herself second guessing every interaction she's ever had with you, because despite Manny's insistence, Abby still wasn't totally sure if you even liked girls. She's never seen you with anyone before, and it's not exactly something she could just bring up in casual conversation. 

Oh yeah, patrol was absolutely brutal today…by the way, do you like pussy? Just curious. 

Because that would go over well. 

Abby releases a harsh breath through her nose as she forces herself to look away, clenching her jaw so tight that her teeth start to ache. It's absolutely ridiculous for her to feel jealous—she knows that, but nevertheless, she can't stop those stubborn insecurities from bubbling to the surface.

It had been slowly brewing all day, settling beneath her skin like a parasite, a lingering resentment that began to resurface whenever Manny was on the receiving end of your affection. But those feelings had started to wane when you opened up to her on the drive over, admitting to a fear that even Manny didn't seem to know about. And the way her touch seemed to pull you out of the catatonic state you'd slipped into once the boat left the shore. 

Only for that resentment to rear its ugly head hours later, the moment she saw Manny wrap an arm around your shoulders, tucking you against him. But it was the way you relaxed into the embrace, like you belonged there—that seemed to shatter something inside her.

And while she hated to admit it, Abby couldn’t exactly blame you for being drawn to someone like Manny. Under all that cocky bravado, he was incredibly thoughtful and kind, gentle in ways she never thought she could be again. Manny was easy to be around, easy to love. 

Maybe that was just it, the reason why you always treated her so differently than everyone else, why you avoided conversations and constantly kept your distance. You saw her darkness, how easily cruel she could be, how unloveable she was. And god, the way you're looking at him right now, all soft edges and subtle mirth made her physically ill—because all she's ever wanted is for you to look at her that way. 

Even though she knows she doesn't deserve it.

This is exactly why she didn’t let herself get attached to people, because feelings were a distraction, they were dangerous. She had learned that the hard way, many years ago. So Abby did what she always does, she tried to push the feelings down—to bury them and normally it would've worked. She could move on without causing herself any heartache in the process. 

But for reasons that she can't seem to name, she just couldn't bring herself to do it with you. And she's kicking herself for it now. 

“If you two are done flirting,” she snaps, eyes narrowing as she glances over her shoulder at the two of you. “Can we go?” Abby doesn't give either of you a chance to respond before she's stalking back outside. 

The remaining trek to the hospital while short, was quiet and unbearably tense. Flashes of lightning burst across the darkened sky, casting harsh shadows across the cracked pavement with every step Abby took. The rain felt cool against her overly flushed cheeks, but it did little to extinguish the flames of resentment still burning beneath her skin.

Abby hadn't spoken to you, or even glanced your way since you left the music store. She just couldn't bring herself to, because the image of you, laughing and smiling up at him, all starry-eyed, had been playing on a constant loop in her head ever since. She really had wanted to let it go, to act like she wasn't bothered by seeing you with someone else, but her mask of indifference has slipped too far to be put back into place now. 

But the worst part, was that despite your reluctance to even speak to her most days, you'd somehow still managed to wedge yourself in the space between her ribs and made a home there. 

So, the closer the three of you got to the hospital, the faster she started to move, suddenly desperate to put some distance between herself and the awkward tension she'd created. But Abby had barely noticed just how far ahead she'd gotten until she was already climbing the crumbling stairs to the main entrance. 

The pair of automatic doors had been shattered years ago, leaving the walkway littered with broken glass and the floor stained with pools of old, dried blood—a harsh reminder of outbreak day. The sight alone should have been enough to bring her back into herself, to the job she should've been focused on. But her mind was still miles away, back in that music store, lamenting over the way you smiled at him. 

"Abs!" Manny calls, the sound of his boots slapping against the wet pavement finally managing to snap her out of it. "Hang on a sec!" 

And despite her initial reluctance, she waits but she still can't bear to look at either of you as you follow her through the entrance and into what used to be the hospital's main lobby. A heavy, putrid odor hangs in the air, clinging to the back of her throat and she swallows back a gag. 

Then Manny is calling her name again, softer this time. 

"What is it, Manny?" She mutters, turning back toward him and sparing you a sideways glance as you move past her and further into the room—eyes wide and alert. 

"Can we talk?" he asks, a little out of breath as he reaches to rest a hand on her shoulder. "Amigo a amiga?"

Abby instantly shrugs off his touch. "About what?" 

Manny's eyes flicker briefly over to you, his brow raising as if the answer should be obvious. Abby's jaw tenses before she reaches out, roughly grabbing the lapel of his jacket to tug him over toward the dilapidated nurse's station and away from you. 

"Go on then," she hisses, voice low as she releases him to cross her arms over her chest. "Spit it out."

Manny turns and leans against the counter, still casual as ever. "What's with the attitude, chica?" 

Abby can't help but roll her eyes. "Seriously, Manny? You even have to ask?"

Her gaze wanders over his shoulder, only to find you already looking at her. Your eyes lock with hers and for a split second Abby swears she sees a flicker of hurt flash through them before you quickly turn away. 

"So, you are jealous," he muses, suddenly sounding far too upbeat for her liking. 

"And somehow that's amusing to you?" she quips, eyes focusing back on him. 

Manny smirks. "Sí, un poco." 

Annoyance flairs in her chest. "Well, that makes one of us." 

Now it's Manny's turn to roll his eyes. "Oh come on, amiga, lighten up will ya?" 

"Lighten up?" She releases a humorless laugh. "That's rich coming from you." 

"Abby," Manny sighs, his expression morphing into something far more serious. "Estás siendo ridícula." 

Abby scoffs, her fingers curling into fists. "Oh, I'm the one being ridiculous? Really?" 

"¡Sí, muy ridícula!" He reiterates, shrugging off the counter. "For fuck sakes, Abs, she doesn't even like men—"

A sharp crack echoes down the hall and they both freeze. A feeling of dread settles in the pit of her stomach as she glances back over Manny's shoulder only to discover that you're not in the lobby anymore. But it's the ear piercing scream of her own name that sends ice straight through her veins and Abby doesn't think—she moves, drawing her gun as she races down the dark corridor, toward the sound of your voice. 

What the fuck did you just get yourself into? 

This whole day couldn't possibly get any worse. Yet it has. 

The beloved car you've been driving for years just… stopped. For weeks it's been having a hard time starting and the fuel tank whines at you sometimes, but she's reliable. She got you all the way to the city– where your parents completely broke your heart. 

But your car breaking down in the middle of absolute nowhere? That was worse. At least in the current. It's just your luck that you broke down on a country lane where you hadn't driven past another car for at least 40 minutes, and it was 1AM so the likelihood of somebody finding you was slim to none. 

Things are supposed to come in three's right? First it was your parents –who you believed were happily in love– were divorcing after ten years of faking it, under the guise of “waiting until you were old enough to handle it”. What is that supposed to mean? That the older you are the less it will hurt? If anything, hiding it and dragging it out only made you feel guilty, like you were the one holding them back from living the lives they wanted to. 

As you pull up Google on your phone the words all blur together, you hadn't even realised you were crying until then. Maybe it was the stress of being stuck all alone in the middle of nowhere or the whole cocktail of emotions you've felt all day. Once you've wiped your tears you use find out where you are and search for the nearest recovery service… everything comes in three's. 

There's no 24-hour recovery services close, only one that opens at 8AM in a small town just north of you called Maple Creek. It was one of those towns that only had one of everything, one coffee shop, one grocery store, one boutique, one charity shop, one car repair garage and a police station which also doubled as a fire station. Interesting. 

Convinced that was your only option as the next closest town was over an hour away you sat with your fate before climbing into the back of your car and curling up on the backseat. It could be worse… right? 

After possibly the worst night sleep you've ever experienced –which is saying something because that camping trip in the pouring rain with a broken tent wasn't fun– you decided to call the number for the mechanic. The clock reads 08:07 and your phone almost rings out before a gruff voice answers, “Maple Creek Mechanics, what can I do for you this early in the goddamn morning?” 

Okay somebody had a worse night sleep than you apparently. Rude. 

“Hi… uh I'm broken down- obviously that's why I called you.” An automatic, awkward huff of a laugh leaves your mouth before you can stop it. 

“Riveting. I assume you need me to come and get you?” You can't see it, but you're almost positive this woman rolled her eyes at you. “What's your name and where are ya?” 

After you give the woman your name and drop her a pin to your location, she so graciously provides you with her name– Sevika. “How long do you think it will take?” 

“How long is a piece of string?” you didn't know this woman, and she might be having a terrible morning like you are, but you could throttle her. Despite being trapped alone in the wilderness and scared you weren't being rude to her!

“Maybe you need a course on customer service or you can pass my phone call to somebody else.” Sevika only laughs at your huffiness. She likes this girl. 

“Unfortunately you're stuck with me. I'm the CEO, manager, employee and everything in between." That… makes sense, a small local shop which only has to keep maintenance of maybe 100 vehicles would only need one person. Unfortunate for you. 

“Please can you come as quick as you can?” Sevika can hear the exhaustion in your voice and she softens her voice when she speaks next– which she never does. Being whitty, smart-mouthed and rude was her default. 

“I'm already climbing into my truck angel, give me twenty five minutes and I'll be there.” 

“But Google is telling me it's a thirty two minute drive. You're going to speed to get to me?”

“You told me to be quick.” And with that she hangs up the phone, if there's one thing Sevika cannot handle at 8AM it's a woman showing gratitude and being overly dramatic. 

On the drive Sevika blasts her music trying to will herself to be kind to you when she arrives. Customer service was not her forte as much as mechanics were. As her tuck pulls up you climb out of your car, wrapped in the blanket you keep for emergencies– like this. 

Why does this happen every time you meet somebody attractive? 

Your hair is all over the place from sleeping and not having a hair tie, mascara and eyeliner was smudged around your eyes from your emotional breakdown seven hours ago. Sevika was devastatingly gorgeous, grey eyes which were darkened from lack of sleep, muscles coiled twist and bulging and you could only see them because she made no move to hide them, only wearing a white wife pleaser and jeans which had oil stains on. Most likely permanent. 

“Get in the truck. I'll get the car hooked up.” Her eyes roam your body like a physical caress, you can feel her eyes dragging over your disheveled form as you stand there, still staring at her as if she's the hottest thing since the creation of the sun. “In the truck, angel. I won't tell you again.” 

Snapping out of your trance you climb into the cab of Sevika's truck. The low hum of ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’ by Def Leppard fills the small space as you buckle up. The leather seats were cracked, clearly worn after years, maybe a decade of use. The stench of oil and sweat fills the space along with an overwhelming smell of cologne- which Sevika had quickly spritzed on before she got out. You sounded pretty and for some odd reason, somewhere deep in her gut Sevika felt the need to make a good first impression. 

The sound of the divers' side door opening startles you as the truck sinks under Sevika's weight. The two of you are silent as she starts the engine and pulls off, heading back towards town. “Did you sleep in your car? You look like you did.” 

Could this woman get any more infuriating? She's unbelievably hot until she opens her mouth. “Yes I slept in my car, you were the closest garage and you were closed.” 

God Sevika feels like a dick. If you'd have called she would've come, even if she huffed about it the entire time. A pretty girl like you cramped in the back of that car freezing your ass off? That didn't sit right with her. “Shoulda just called and explained the situation, Angel. I would have come.” 

When you glance over Sevika's gaze is glued on the road, but her hands are tight on the steering wheel, calloused and knuckles starting to wrinkle ever so slightly. How old was she? 

“Well I didn't know that… plus I was fine. I didn't get kidnapped or murdered.” Sevika only lets out huff that sounds like she's annoyed as she continues to drive. Subconsciously you wrap the blanket tighter around you, Sevika sees out the corner of her eye and turns the heat up a notch on the dashboard. 

Silence falls over you both once again as she drives you to town. Sevika had already pushed her first job of the day back to come and recover you, it was only a simple service anyway– most people in town kept up with their car repairs as it was a small town and people understood Sevika also had to make a living. Plus keeping up with their car repairs meant less money spent if it ever broke down… you clearly didn't get the memo. 

Eventually Maple Creek comes into view and it's not at all what you had expected, with the current weather all of the trees lining the cobblestone pavements were turning a burnt shades of orange and brown, leaves littering the stone beneath. The truck looks almost out of place in town, too roughed up and rugged for the cosy, peaceful vibe that you felt as Sevike drove– the engine disturbed and rustled against the calm atmosphere. As Sevika drives by the cafe you were close to asking her to pull over so that you could grab a coffee, it's safe to say the nights sleep you had in the back of your car was less than satisfactory however you remain quiet, not wanting to disrupt her routine any further. 

After passing a few rows of beautiful houses her garage comes into view. The double garage doors are covered in  chipped paint desperately in need of a touch up and the bricks that made up the building were visibly old and worn. Yet the building looked like it knew its place and fitted in with the town despite its naturally ‘cutesy’ small town vibes. The roar of the engine echoes off the stone walls as Sevika reveres into the garage, your car looking pathetic and small beside her weathered truck. You’re so distracted taking in the garage you don't notice Sevika has gotten out, rounded the truck and opened your door until she clears her throat. “Hurry up, I’ve got other jobs to do to. Go upstairs and get yourself cleaned up.” 

Rude.

In Sevika’s head she was being nice, offering you a place to rest up and clean up while she worked on your car, thinking the clearing of her throat was unassuming, not rude.  Well… that was until your eyes rolled so far into the back of your head she was concerned they would get stuck, normally Sevika wouldn't care about offending anybody let alone feeling bad about it. Against her will her face softens and she gestures to the door near the back of the shop, right next to her office which looked like a tornado had hit it… she didn't have the time nor energy for organisation. “My apartment is upstairs, Angel. Go take a nap and have a shower while I look at your car.” 

“How are you so grumpy yet so kind? You’re confusing.” The softened features on her face immediately soured again. This young, little thing was really sent to test her patience huh?

“I’m not grumpy. I’m practical. Now go shower before I hose you down like a dog, you stink.” 

“I’m not a damn dog…” she shouldn't like the way you huff. It's bratty and annoying, yet she can't help the tug at her lips, a smirk forming from managing to get under your skin. Luckily your car battery would be dead and all it needed was charging and you would be on your way… how wrong Sevika was. 

The apartment upstairs was very Sevika. Messy and unorganised with dirty dishes in the sink and the milk from her coffee this morning left out on the counter, the curtains are half drawn restricting your view of the pretty town you’ve found yourself stranded in. Having a nosey around you find lots of car magazines and catalogues… she really was dedicated to her work, or she had nothing else going for her. The latter hurt your heart a little bit. The uncontrollable urge to snoop won over as you made your way into the bedroom, it was an ensuite and seemingly that was it… her apartment was so tiny for the mountain of a woman she is. A lone birthday card sits on her dresser, wishing her a happy 45th birthday… forty five. Far too old for you. 

Right?

She’s too old for you even if you were to flirt with her– which you won’t because she is rude, grumpy and apparently incapable of smiling. Even if she is kind, it’s probably only so that she can take your money for fixing your car and then send you on your way. What you didn't understand was how wrong you had it, Sevika was normally so much worse. She didn’t take shit from anybody and if a single person from town had dared interrupt her morning coffee by calling at 08:07AM they would be in for a rude awakening. Yet something in your voice was enough to pull her in and start melting the ice that had encased her heart for the past twenty years. 

It had to be lust, there was no way in hell Sevika was crushing on a young woman at the ripe old age of forty five. Surely. It didn’t matter anyhow because she would fix your car, take your money and never have to see you again. So she thought. 

It’s the goddamn fuel pump.

A fairly uncommon problem, though one she can fix… just not today. Or tomorrow. Fuel pumps are expensive and not something brought in bulk as most cars take specific measurements. Sevika checks your car five, six times to be absolutely positive that the fuel pump is the issue. There’s nothing else it can be. While Sevika was down in the garage diagnosing the issue, you had just gotten out of the shower and re-dressed into your clothes from last night, other than you were now commando which felt wrong and highly uncomfortable when you were in a strangers house– an attractive strangers house. 

Heading back downstairs after refusing to take a nap you find Sevika with you hood popped open, white wife pleaser now grey and stained with oil. A grim looking rag was tucked into the waistband of her pants which only accentuated the curve of her hips. Black oil covered her large, calloused working hands as she fiddled around with car parts your brain refused to understand. “Did you figure out what’s wrong with it?”  

“Yeah Angel, the fuel pump is gone.” Sevika’s eyes roam over your now bare face, making you look even younger than you did this morning. Though the vulnerable look was nowhere to be seen whether it was the smudged makeup or the fact that you know her now… kind of. 

“Okay that doesn’t sound so bad, it is going to be expensive? Be gentle with me.” nervously you fidget with your fingers, twisting and pulling the digits as you wait for Sevika to tell you the damage. Back at home you were a waitress that got paid monthly and relied heavily on tips to make it through the month. Money wasn’t disposable for you- maybe you had two hundred in your account and a twenty in your center console. 

“With the cost of the part, delivery and labor… you’re looking at around eight hundred.”

“That was not gentle.”

“You ain’t got nowhere to stay. And no way to pay, do you?” with Sevika’s size she easily rests her hands on each side of the hood, slightly hunched over as she peeks through her hair that had fallen  over her eyes. The silence confirms it, along with the tears prickling at your waterlines. That was your rent for a month, you wouldn’t be able to get that money anytime soon– especially since you were stranded two hours from home and already missing work. 

“How long will it take for the part to arrive and be fitted?” Your small sniffle almost breaks Sevika. She knew she wasn’t the direc* cause of your tears though the situation you were in certainly wasn’t ideal and she wasn’t helping. 

“A few weeks considering Maple Creek is in the middle of nowhere.” Closing the hood Sevike gestures for you to follow her upstairs and you do without question. “Good girl, come on Angel.”

The praise, so simple, falling from her lips like it was natural had your anxiety soothing instantly. There was no way this woman was breaking you down this easily. Yet your feet were obeying her command and following her up the creaky wooden stairs without complaint. Sevika gestures for you to sit as she puts water on to boil for a coffee, it was the least she could do was offer a small comfort despite the situation you were in… and her damn mouth ran before she could stop it. “You can stay here until it's fixed. I’ve got a bed and a couch.”

“I’m not taking the bed.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not, you’re old your back can’t handle the couch-” Silence.

Great. You just shoved your foot in your mouth and insulted the only person who has been kind to you the past 24 hours. Sevika watches your mouth open and close like a guppy fish, fumbling over your words as you try to find words. Until Sevika’s lips curve into a full on smirk, she should be offended but your bratty side that peeks out every so often is her favourite side. “Forty five ain’t that old Angel. I can assure you my back is perfectly fine.”

Neither of you really think about the consequences of it, nor do you want to really overthink it. It's a game of not letting your pride get the better of you because what was your alternative option? Sleep in your car downstairs in the cold garage mid fall? There was no chance you had money to stay in a hotel for that long, and all the money you would need to go to Sevika for the replacement fuel pump. “I’m not letting you sleep on the couch, we’re adults we can share a bed without it meaning anything.”

Sevika raises an eyebrow before realising you’re serious– and she knows you're far too stubborn to let it go. You will fight her all night until she sleeps in the bed with you or you’ll end up taking the couch. That won’t do. “Fine. But we’re going to get food first. Come on little angel.” 

All evening Sevika can’t stop watching you, knowing it’s wrong. In no world could she have you, that’s if you’d even let her. After her first and last heartbreak at the ripe age of 25 Sevika hasn’t given her heart to anybody, never let anybody in. Nor does she plan to. If there’s one place she’s going to let you in it’s her pants if you really beg for it, not that you will. With her grumpy ‘I don’t care’ attitude she’s convinced she’s not for you… though you do have a bratty side. She’s growing old, her knees are starting to crack, wrinkles becoming more pronounced, hair greying to the point it’s noticeable. The exact opposite of what you need.

What she thinks you need… 

You’re young, beautiful, intelligent– even if your anxiety gets the better of you sometimes. She noticed when you hesitated to ask for no sauce on your burger at the drive thru. In the end Sevika told them for you but told you that next time you had to do it yourself even though she knows damn well she’ll do it for you. 

By the time you get home from getting food you’re exhausted thinking you maybe should’ve taken Sevika up on the offer to have a nap earlier before sharing a bed with the woman. Sleep is impossible. Not only is your heart racing but now you’re stuck laying like a plank beside her, muscles stiff on the mattress which springs are determined to make sure you feel them. Sevika naturally took up over half of the bed with her being nearly a foot taller and not used to sharing her space, or if she is sharing they’ve most definitely fucked and they can at least touch pinkies. 

You, however, are acting like she has the plague.

It’s 1am again, and you’re not asleep… again. All you can think about is how much money you need to cover the costs of getting your car fixed and how you’re going to find said money. Asking your parents right now is a no-go, you can’t get to work to go and earn it as the taxi back to your hometown would only put you out further. After hours of back and forth in your mind you decide to ask Sevika to work it off. Cleaning, organising, answering the phone and booking in services and repairs. Surely she could use the help, right? Climbing out of the bed you wince at the small creak of the frame as your weight is lifted. The small alarm clock on the night stand reads 04:21am. Tip-toeing through the apartment you make it to the couch and you’re about to lay down– 

“Get back into bed. I’ll sleep on the damn couch.” How in the world is she awake right now? Not ten minutes ago Sevika was snoring loud enough to set a world record and one tiny bedframe squeak woke her up? Impossible. 

“No it’s fine I’ll-”

“Do not make me carry you and chain you to the bed… though you’d probably like that. Move, angel.” With a glare that makes it perfectly clear you’re not happy about it, you retreat back to the bedroom, squeezing past Sevika who was standing in the doorway with her arms folded over her chest forcing you to squeeze through the little space that was left. The small brush of your skin against hers ignites something in your belly dangerously close to butterflies. Ignoring it you climb back in, springs groaning in protest. 

“Stupid…” Sevika hears the mutter, scoffs at your brattiness then climbs back into bed right next to you, closer than before. She’s doing this to piss you off deliberately, you’re sure of it. “Do you need that much room?”

The only answer to get as you turn to face away from her is a chuckle. Yeah. She’s doing it on purpose. 

“Goodnight sweetheart.” 

“...goodnight Sevika.”