by J Dean
**
They were in the apartment parking lot an hour and a half later, standing under a spotlight of dead, glowing blue. More empty chatter, punctuated with Lucy’s bubbling giggles that followed a few of Nick’s fumbled attempts at humor, accompanied by his fumbling for the right car key. She had pressed her lips to his just as he had found success in unlocking the car door-a sweet smear of bloody cherry on his lips and tongue. Nick didn’t protest-he really loved it; it had turned him on when she had first kissed him as they walked through the apartment door-but had replied with frankness that he couldn’t do this again-well, not anytime soon at least. She kept watching him, nodding her head in understanding. As he sat down in his car seat, saying goodnight to her, she stroked the back of his hand with her ruby-painted fingertips, her top teeth biting into her lower lip as she leaned down toward him.
“You know,” she murmured, “I’m really into you.”
Nick didn’t have a response for that. Anything more might have been trouble, real trouble. He smiled, took her hand in his for a moment, and gave it a tender squeeze before heading off. On the way out, he happened to glance in the rearview mirror. There she was, still watching him, not moving until he was well on his way and nearly out of sight.
