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Take A Break

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They take their time processing the bright yellow Nissan. It’s not often they get to spend so much time with such an impressive vehicle. Even at a car show, they don’t often get and excuse to be so intimate with the inner workings.

Or with each other.

They steal a moment in the cramped interior that is only meant for two passengers. Gloved fingers brush against each other, lingering as they exchange objects with each other. Knees and thighs and shoulders are touched with gentle strokes. Greg’s breath washes over the back of Nick’s neck as he lunges over to inspect the backseat. Nick lays his head onto Greg’s lap as he ducks down to inspect the passenger’s air bag.

Before they know it, the processing is complete and their time is up.

But, Greg reckons, it doesn’t have to be. He studies the glimmer in Nick’s eyes that gaze into his own. He wonders if they’re sharing the same day dream, driving down a long stretch of road, the windows down, no sound other than the purring engine and cycling rubber against roasting pavement, driving towards the setting sun as their hearts rise to the beat of their adrenaline.

“Guess we gotta roll this bad boy back to the impound now,” Nick sighs as he tears his eyes away, flicking his tongue over his lips and clearing his throat.

“Guess we do…but…we could take a little…detour on the way?” Greg suggests.

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” Nick chuckles incredulously.

“C’mon, we haven’t had our break yet anyway.”

“Someone might have been killed by this car, you know,” Nick raises his eyebrows.

“You’re not that bad of a driver!” Greg protests. “Or in that case, I can drive—?”

“In your dreams, Car Thief,” Nick smirks, meeting Greg’s eyes with a glint of mischief in his own. He wordlessly presses the button to open the garage door, shifts the car into gear.

In no time at all they’re accelerating at top speed, with no direction in mind, ripping the roads as they cruise through the streets, feeling the exhilaration of youth and momentarily forgetting who they are, besides their hands melted together over the ball of the joystick.