Twenty-Six>>>A Sexy Confidence
As I stand here loading bag after bag into Harper’s trunk, I find myself wondering how this is my Christmas gift. I was given the opportunity to lug Harper’s awfully heavy bags into the trunk of the car?
“Careful, Tay! Don’t scratch the car,” She warns as I slide her suitcase in.
I roll my eyes at her and give her a look that says everything. Finally, satisfied with the way I’ve arranged our five bags, I slam the trunk closed and exhale a satisfied smile. Tough work.
Don’t misunderstand me. It’s not that I’m ungrateful for this trip. In fact, I find it to be completely and totally brilliant. I just didn’t know manual labor was part of it.
“Alright, ready to hit the road?” She asks, swinging her keys at her side. She insisted since it was my gift, she was going to drive. There is something slightly humiliating about your girlfriend chauffeuring you around, but I only argued with her for a few minutes about it and eventually, she won. Big surprise.
“I think so. I think I packed everything…” I go over my list of things to bring in my head as I climb into the passenger seat. It’s when she started the car that I remembered.
“Wait!” I cry out, “I forgot something.”
“What is it? Is it important?”
I look at her sheepishly and admit, “My deodorant. It’s on my bathroom counter. Lemme go grab it.”
I open the door to jump out but she places a soft hand on my arm. “It’s too much of a hassle to go all the way upstairs. We’ll just pick some up at a gas station or something.”
I concede and close the door- grinning. “Or maybe I can just use yours.”
“Gross,” she remarks, pulling out onto the road and pulling her sunglasses over her eyes, “My deodorant is not touching your sweat glands thank you very much.”
“Oh, it’s not like my sweat is any different than yours!” I am slightly offended by her reaction. After all, everyone sweats. I know girls who would pay hundreds for a teaspoon of my sweat!
She raises an eyebrow and looks over at me, quickly glancing back at the road, “Trust me. I am the one who gets the privilege of smelling you half the time. It most certainly is. And far worse.”
I cross my arms at my chest and watch out the window, muttering, “Yeah well you don’t always smell like roses yourself…”
“What’s that?” She asked. She knew exactly what I said, but this is a test. And when asked too, I perform well.
“What’s what? Look it’s 45 degrees out!” I point out the window at the big thermometer on the sign by the bank, changing the subject quickly. “Not bad for January.”
I can hear her smile, “You’re not bad for January.”
I let out a hearty laugh- very exaggerated. “Hah! Thank you. I’ve been told.”
“Have you been told you’re very humble before too?”
“Humble with a sexy confidence, actually.”
She smirks and speeds up a bit, passing a slow moving Caravan with stickers all over the windows. Who lets their children do that anyway?
“Sexy? I never noticed,” she says simply.
I try my best to give her the sexiest look I can, but I realize with my eyebrows slightly arched and my lips slightly parted I look anything but sexy.
She laughs at my expression and shakes her head, “Oh wow. Is it getting hot in here?”
“Crap! And I don’t have any deodorant!” I gasp, laughing at my own lame joke.
She doesn’t even crack a smile. Not even a pity laugh. No chuckle! No snigger! No nothing! “You’re lame, Taylor.”
What I love about cupcakes is peeling the paper off the bottom of it and licking around its edges. What I love about a new novel is the way the cover lays perfectly flat without anything holding it down. Sometimes, I find myself loving the most random things that absolutely seem to hold no significance.
And that is how it is with Harper. I love her for her constant witty lines and startling bluntness.