Kent slid into the seat,
buckled up, looked at Crispin and asked with concern, “Are you alright?”
“Other than being nervous as
all get out, yeah.”
“There’s nothing to be
nervous about.” Kent checked him out, from the blue shirt that perfectly
matched his eyes to the tight jeans to the casual shoes and back up again. “You
look fantastic.”
“I look like I’m trying to
be ten years younger than I am,” Crispin’s tone was wry as he pulled into
traffic.
“Oh bull, not true, turn
here,” Kent said in quick succession.
With a chuckle, following
the last command, Crispin muttered, “A bit more notice next time?”
“Sorry. I’m used to driving
not giving directions so I make the turn instinctively.”
“It’s alright.” Crispin
reached over to pat his arm. “I’ll forgive you this time. How far to the next
sudden turn?”
With a laugh Kent told him
to get onto the highway at the next entrance, which he did. A few minutes later
Kent gasped as a car veered into their lane, sped up and then cut back into the
next lane seconds later. “I totally hate drivers like that,” he growled.
“Don’t we all. I’m sort of
used to it since I’m on the highway coming and going practically every day, but
it can be nerve-wracking, especially during rush hour.”
“Which is why, even though I
have a car, I tend to take the bus as often as not. Not that I mind because I
can read.”
Glancing over Crispin asked,
“What sort of books do you like?” before concentrating on driving again.
“I’m pretty eclectic in my
tastes, mostly fiction, mysteries, thrillers, whatever I find in the used book
stores that strikes my fancy.”
They spent the next few
minutes comparing books, with Kent interjecting addition directions to where
they were going as needed. Finally they pulled onto a residential street and
after they found a parking place Kent led the way to nice home in the center of
the block.
No comments:
Post a Comment