Isis let out a loud whoop as the bright red convertible raced along the empty highway. She laughed gaily, her hair whipping about in the wind as Ferris grinned. He pushed the gas pedal down further; her excitement spurred him on, as it always did.
Moonlight and the distant city lights made the scene almost as bright as day, and Isis’ eyes were almost as luminous as her mother’s as they caught the light of the Holy Moon.
Ferris eased up off the gas, giving a little chortle when Isis pouted in the seat next to him. Once they had stopped, he set the car into park and turned to face her. “Trying a new hairstyle?” Isis giggled, patting her hair down a little. “Is it bad?” “Terrible. I’m afraid I’ll have to give you a ticket for having a bad hair day,” he told her mock solemnly, though the effect was ruined by his cocky smirk.
Isis fluttered her eyelashes, leaning forward a little. “Oh? And what sort of price must I pay?” “I think I’ll have to collect one kiss from you, or else face the penalty—tickles.” Isis gasped playfully, her grin growing wider. “Not tickles! Alright officer, I surrender a kiss to you.” They leaned forward at the same time, both smiling as they pressed their lips together under the pale moonlight.
When they parted, Ferris considered something for a few beats. “...I kinda like you calling me officer,” he admitted as he put the car back in drive and made a U-turn to head back to the Manse. “I thought you might,” Isis replied with a soft chuckle.