Last Chapter: Before I could respond, she had entered my car and buckled herself in. She waved to a certain girl in her group before turning to me and smiling. "Where to?" She asked again.

Default: I don't own That 70's show or anything else I talk about in my story, but I do a good job of making you think that huh?

I do a lot of things without thinking and maybe this is because of the Circle, and now was another example.

When the pretty lady with long brown hair asked "where to?" my foot just started getting heavier and pressed down on the accelerator.

The car was already in drive, so no shifts had to be made, but my blinker was on. My right hand, also subconsciously, reached up and fell down, knocking the stick into 'off.' My body was an amazing thing, and the body sitting next to me was breathtakingly wonderful.

I was in such a deep trance that I thought I had drool dribbling down my chin, but it was only in my mind.

You know how sometimes you just stare at something for no reason, just because it looks interesting and people think you're out of it. I do that and really I'm there listening, just looking. I find it relaxing and it gives me a chance to think.

"What's ya name?" The girl asked me. "Hyde." I coughed out. My voice didn't expect to be used and wasn't ready when I had to answer her.

"That's an interesting name." She chuckled. "Well it's actually Steven, but people call me by my last name; Hyde." I said filling her in.

She stared at me for a second before laughing. "Why would they do that?" She asked amused. I don't really know why we do call each other by our last names. Well, except for Donna, Lena, and Fez.

But that's only because we don't know Fez's last name. Or if we did, would we pronounce it right?

"Just something that feels right," I answered. She looked ahead still smiling. I heard a faint, 'whatever,' but dismissed it. "What's your name?" I asked her quietly.

I was totally out of character, but who could blame me. My girlfriend's cheating and a hooker just 'invited' herself into the passenger seat of my El Camino.

"Jaclyn Burkhart." She answered, then added, "well, my name's Jackie." I smirked at this. I don't know why I smirk; sometimes it just happens from the many years of doing it to Foreman or Kelso.

Just another bodily wonder I guess.

I glanced over at the strange girl I was sharing a car with and noticed her hands were playing with the ends of her skirt.

Was she nervous? If she was then why did she get in the car in the first place? Did I scare her? Is that what I did to Lena? I scared her into the arms of something that couldn't scare a kitten.

I was making myself believe this was true. I had to distract myself before Halloween became my special holiday. "Who were those girls you were hanging out with?" I asked.

It seemed like a safe topic that couldn't remind me of Lena. Darn it.

"They're my friends." Jackie said disinterested. Okay, new topic. "How old are you?" I asked. This seemed like a safe question to ask someone around my age.

It's rude to ask an older person their age because with younger people, getting older means more opportunities and older people see it as less opportunities.

"I'm 18 and-a-half." She answered. Ha. This meant she wasn't even eighteen yet. When people you don't know well, say "and a half," that means they're a year or two younger then they say. I chuckled and she noticed.

"What?" she asked suspiciously. "It's funny that you're a whore at 17." I said. Then I thought about it and it didn't seem so unnatural and I laughed harder. "I'm not a whore," she protested.

I glanced at her quickly before looking back at the road. We had driven a few blocks from where I had met her. My mind was on it's own as I recognized where were going. I stopped at a stop sign and turned left.

"I'm not free." Jackie's added. She had a point. Whores were the way they were because they wanted to be.

My brain was about to over load as I pulled into the parking lot. I turned off the engine and unbuckled my seatbelt. Jackie didn't say anything and sat there quietly.

"Where are we?" she asked. I looked at the building in front of us and then at her, "The motel where I work." I answered her.