My Pleasure, Darling

1: Race Down the Mountain

I am driving a car.

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. Who put me behind the steering wheel of a car? Whose great idea was this? This was a bad idea.

I am driving a car down a mountain road, casually, as if I can drive. If I don't die first, I'm definitely getting a ticket.

Wait, which one is brakes again?

My foot gently presses, and the car rushes forward with renewed gusto.

Nothing will make you slam on the actual brakes harder.

It's lucky, too. Because as my body jolts forward, straining against the seatbelt, and practically doing a little skip on its axis - if there is such a thing on a car - the headlights beam against a figure. He's holding up a hand to the car, wincing against the bright lights. It takes me a moment. Then, I inhale, deeply.

I am saved.

I yank on the key, making the engine fall still. The lights stay on. I pump the hand brake for good measure. Not sure if that does anything. Right now that's not important.

What is important is that Felix Bruge is standing in front of me, cool as a cucumber, like this isn't the worst night of both our lives, like he hasn't just saved me from driving a Volkswagen into a ditch, like I am not escaping the greedy grip of death, and, most importantly, like he can't drive.

Because I know he can.

When I step out of the car, he motions at me, disbelieving.

"Lois Darling?!"

And I freeze. What if everything I know is wrong? What if he can't drive? What if he can, and he won't help me? When did he learn my name, anyway?

"Can you drive?"

He looks at me like I'm an idiot.

"Yes, I can drive, why?"

Too bad. He's going to help me. Whether he likes it or not.

I throw the car keys at him, and he catches them somewhat deftly, confused as to why I am throwing random objects at him in the middle of the night on the side of Mt. Estar, as if either of us are supposed to be here.

"Get in."

I cross the front of the car to get in the passenger side.

"What?"

"Get in. You're driving."

He stares at me as I rip the passenger door open. He's confused. That's entirely fair. I am not the world's best communicator at four AM when my life is crumbling around me. But if I'm in fight or flight mode, then he'd better get on the same page, fast.

"I'll explain on the way. If I drive, I'm going to trash the car. I need you to drive for me."

He looks at me differently, just for a moment. Felix and I don't run in the same circles. We exist, apart from each other. I don't think I've spoken more than seven words to him in my whole life. And now I am standing here on a dirt road on a new moon, panicked and frazzled, asking him to drive a car for me, and time is of the essence.

His fist clenches around the keys, and I really am saved. I get in, close the door quietly, glancing in the rearview mirror first. She's fast asleep. Somehow. Even after I nearly put us head over heels with my braking abilities.

Felix is very comfortable. It's strange to see him put the keys in the ignition, adjust the driver's seat, and simply sit back and start driving. I've never made a study of him – you see a guy across campus and don't think twice, you know? – but it's definitely a different vibe, like this. He glances in the rearview mirror, and slams on the brakes, turning.