After what felt like an eternity, Hawke looked up at her clock. 1:17. She looked back down at her laptop screen. Two and a half pages. That's what I'm talking about! She air-high-fived herself and shut down her computer. She tucked her wallet into her pocket and quickly picked up her phone.
"Ready when you are, Isabela." She texted quickly. The brunette stood to look at herself in the long mirror that hung on her closet door. She was in the middle of re-thinking her Star Wars t-shirt when her phone buzzed in her jeans.
"In the parking lot." She looked back in the mirror. Her messy hair was somewhat less unkempt, there weren't any obvious bags under her blue eyes, her war paint was washed off, and her piercings weren't sticking out at any odd angles. She checked her teeth, sniffed her breath, and took some deep breaths before using rubbing alcohol to remove the faint numbers on her arm. But the smell was unpleasant, so she attempted to spray herself down with whatever girly crap she had on hand. Which, thanks to Bethany, was quite a bit. Thanks sis. She locked the door and bounded down the stairs like her life depended on it, but took a second to make sure she hadn't forgotten her ID card. Relax, Hawke. Don't let her catch you out of breath. She cracked her joints and walked calmly out the door before crossing the street.
"You like to keep a lady waiting." Isabela called from her relaxed position against a light-post. Another pencil skirt? This one was an interesting blue color with matching heels, but her blouse was another white practically-transparent-hardly-breast-covering-barely-legal monstrosity. Her jewelry was minimal; just a single gold bangle and a simple gold chain with a tear-shaped pearl. Apparently she had taste, or at least, she knew what other people liked to see her in. AKA not much. Even her relatively conservative purse matched her outfit. The older woman gave her companion an equally long examination, a smile curling her lips as she noted Darth Vader's tie fighter resting on her chest. She must have noted it quite a bit, considering the length of time her gaze lingered. Geeky lesbian? Geek-bian? It kind of works for her, though. She's got that 'girl next door' look.
"Had to make sure I filled my quota." Cassandra killed the silence self-consciously.
The mysterious woman just smiled, stood up straight and began to walk toward the cars. "Come along then, I don't want another ticket." She jingled some keys and Red followed. The young lady stopped in her tracks when she saw a pristine blue '66 Shelby GT 350 with white racing stripes taking up two parking spaces. She wasn't really a car person by nature, but she was looking at her younger brother's dream car, hood scoop and all. If that is hers, Carver will make me marry her. And hot damn, I'll volunteer! The tan woman caught her drooling. Shelly, baby, sometimes you get more attention than I do. "Don't want anyone to scratch my baby." Isabela laughed and ran her hand over the trunk, her amber eyes meeting Hawke's.
"You match your car." She blurted out before she could stop herself.
"Car? No way. Shelly's my concubine." Isabela ran her hands over the driver's side of the vehicle and licked her lips before popping open the hood. "She's supercharged. 440 horsepower stock." She placed her hands by the radiator and they leaned down to gaze at the cleanest engine compartment Cassandra had ever seen.
The young woman shook her head in disbelief. "Aren't those rare?"
The exotic beauty chuckled light-heartedly. "So I've heard. But I like nice things." She momentarily glanced at the rugby player, a mischievous grin brightening her tan features. Nice, young, and athletic.
Red blinked for a moment, her mind trying to catch up with reality. "You're rich, aren't you?" She inquired blatantly.
"My husband was loaded. Bought me this as a wedding gift. I got it all when he died." The owner answered evenly, gently lowering the hood until it clicked into place.
"My condolences?" The younger woman offered, but Isabela didn't seem the least bit mournful.
She opened the driver door and slid onto the black leather seat before tossing her purse behind her. "He didn't beat me. That's the best I can say about it." She had a slight frown, but it disappeared by the time she shut the door. "Now hop in. I'm starved." Hawke made her way to the passenger side and climbed in cautiously. She was extra careful in handling the door, not wanting to ding it on another car. No wonder she uses two spaces. She fastened her seatbelt and looked at the interior. It's like a museum in here. The black leather shined and the dashboard didn't even have a speck of dust on it. The engine rumbled to life and she finally understood the phrase 'purrs like a kitten'. The whole car vibrated lightly. It was like being inside the belly of a roaring jungle cat.
"Where are we going?" The driver asked, one arm on the open window and the other on the shift-knob. I'm dreaming. I'm going to close my eyes, and when I wake up my sheets will be wet and the world will be sane again. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again, still seeing Isabela. Shit, fuck, tits! She took a few seconds to adjust to the situation before giving the other woman a confused look.
"I thought you had something in mind." She sputtered nervously.
Isabela chuckled, a wicked grin etched into her gorgeous face. "I have a lot of things in mind. But I really am hungry." She licked her lips. Cassandra's blue eyes widened at the very obvious sexual nature of her comment. "There's a nice diner on the other side of town. They make a mean cherry pie."
"Ok." She nodded dumbly. I don't even like cherry pie. The older woman laughed and threw the car in reverse before speeding down the street. Hawke was pushed back and she grabbed the underside of the seat hard, needing a lifeline. The tires squealed as Isabela slammed on the brake to avoid a pedestrian. Red just held on for dear life as the g forces threw her around with every gear-shift. The madwoman had a giant smile on her face as she broke every traffic law known to man on her way across town. By the time they pulled into a spot within a parking structure, Hawke couldn't feel her fingers and her stomach had flipped upside down.
"Oh, please. That wasn't so bad." Isabela chimed as she removed the keys from the ignition. Seeing her young companion hyperventilating like a fish out of water, she reached over and unhooked her seatbelt.
The rugby player took a moment to push down her adrenaline. "You're definitely a serial killer," she muttered.
The older woman laughed heartily before grabbing her purse and hopping out of the car. "Come on, girly. Lunch is on me." And against all of her self-preservation instincts, the winger followed. The diner was homey, not half as hip and trendy as she expected from such a high-class woman. It had a retro feel, all chrome and Coca-cola ads. Cassandra slid wordlessly into a booth across from her companion, eyes feasting on her surroundings. It was nearly empty this time of day, with only an old couple occupying a booth in the back.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite pirate!" A waitress called. Pirate? The woman looked to be about Isabela's age, and she wore her hair in a blonde updo. Her retro pink dress was like something Barbie would wear. She kind of looked like a green-eyed Barbie, truly. "And you brought a friend." She smiled down at the younger woman.
"Ashley, this is Hawke. Hawke, this is Ashley." Isabela gestured between the two women, her eyes lingering over Ashley's. Touch the newbie and I'll break your wrist.
Her head tilted as if she was searching for some lost bit of information. "Hawke? That sounds familiar."
"Cassandra Hawke. Rugby player for Kirkwall." She mumbled, suddenly looking intently at her menu.
"Yes! I dated your coach for a month or so! I saw you play against the Twin City Templars last year. You scored almost every try!" The woman flicked her pen in the winger's direction, speaking very enthusiastically about her athletic career.
"Really?" Isabela glanced across the table to see her companion's face hidden behind the sandwich section of the tri-fold menu. I hate bragging. Hate, hate, hate it.
Ashley slapped her friend's shoulder with her order pad. "What, you've never seen her play? She's crazy fast! The opposing team kept cursing her 'fleet feet'."
The dark-haired woman chuckled. "Is that so? Maybe I'll have to go next time you play." Isabela glanced over the top of Red's menu, trying unsuccessfully to get eye-contact. Humble little thing. Charming.
"You really should." Her friend remarked earnestly, slapping her with the pad again. "Regardless, I have to take your order before my boss chews my ass. The usual?" Ashley smiled down at her, already writing the order.
"You know me so well. What do you want, speedy?" She nudged the other woman's foot under the table.
Cassandra took a deep breath before folding her menu and placing it back on its rack. "A bacon cheeseburger and a vanilla coke. No ice, please." She smiled politely at the waitress.
"Aw, she's cute." Ashley smiled back before quickly scribbling on her pad. She sent a quick wink to her old friend before leaving. "I'll put your order in."
Hawke blushed a bit. "Did she just call me cute?"
Isabela chuckled and propped her head up on her hand. "I must admit, you are adorable." But Ash needs to keep her eyes to herself.
The rugby player groaned, focusing on the menu rack instead of the outrageously inviting human rack across the table. "I spend 90% of my day drowning in textbooks or covered in sweat, I've had more broken bones than most NFL guys, and you've already seen that I'm pierced and inked."
"You also wear Star Wars t-shirts, drink vanilla coke, and are incredibly humble about your obvious talents." The older woman pointed out with a smirk. Still, those wolf eyes are sexier than Hell.
Red blushed more, slowly befitting her nickname. "I'm also 5'10 and an easy 170. I don't see how any of this sounds endearing." She commented gruffly.
"If you're worried about your fierce reputation, don't be. I'm sure all the ladies quiver at the sight of you." Her tanned companion made sure to enunciate 'quiver' quite clearly. "I know I do." Isabela licked her lips and Cassandra's eyes were drawn to them again, her pupils dilating at the thoughts that Isabela put directly into her mind. Oh yes, riling her up will be good fun. Before either could do anything rash, the waitress came back.
Ashley smiled down at them. "Here're your drinks." She set a milkshake down in front of her friend, and a coke in front of Hawke, then dropped two straws on the table. "No ice, just like you asked." She beamed down at the winger before turning back toward the kitchen.
"Thanks." She stammered out as the blonde left. Then she turned her attention to her companion, who stuck a straw into her drink and sipped casually. "Ok, you can't just openly proposition me then suck down a chocolate shake like nothing happened." Red stated plainly as she tossed her straw into the vanilla coke.
"I was planning on drinking it slowly, actually." She looked up at the other woman, her lips still on her straw. Seeing the unamused look she was receiving, she gave up the act and set it aside. "But sure, we can talk, if that's what you want." Killjoy.
"Do you do this a lot?" The younger woman practically barked as she took a sip of her soda.
"Do what a lot?" Isabela asked, puzzled, as she sat up straight in her booth.
Cassandra swallowed and set her glass back down. "You know, watch a chick from afar, flirt with her senselessly until she goes back to your car with you, then you chloroform her, rape her unconscious body, throw her in the trunk, and the next morning, you toss her in the lake, never to be recovered?" She wanted to smile and play it off as a joke, but her tone remained dead serious. Should I run screaming right about now?
"I'm not a serial killer." Isabela held up her spoon for emphasis. "And I'd hate to waste perfectly good chemicals, when I have so many other ways to persuade you to consent." The rugby player gave her an angry stare right as Ashley showed up with their food.
"Here's your Rueben with extra corned beef, dressing on the side. And I'm not even going to bring you the side salad or fries, because you never touch them." She slid the plate in front of her friend, then lowered the other in front of Hawke. "And a bacon cheeseburger for the lady." She gave a wink. "Need anything else while I'm here?"
The winger looked gravely at the waitress and pointed to her tanned companion. "Is she a serial killer?"
The blonde woman snickered and elbowed Isabela in the arm. "No, but she plays a wicked pirate wench for Halloween." She giggled again before leaving for the kitchen.
"See, I told you so." Isabela stuck her tongue out mockingly, a glint of amusement in her honey eyes.
"Alright. I believe you." Red threw her hands up in defeat before reaching for her French fries. "So, Isabela 'not a serial killer, but sometimes a pirate' Rivaini, where are you from?" She took a bite of her fry and leaned back in the booth. She might not kill me, but she could still be a rapist… with a smoking body, an equally awesome muscle car, and clearly tons of experience in the bedroom… It's not really rape then, is it?
The older woman bit off a piece of her pickle. "The Florida Keys. Key West, specifically. You?"
"Akron, Ohio" was the blunt reply.
"Sounds dreadful." That explains the 'stare too long, and the devil will find me' look. Though, between the lesbianism and the body modifications, it's a wonder she wasn't chased up here by villagers with pitchforks. Midwestern values can be so overrated. She bit off more of her pickle before reaching for a quarter of her sandwich.
"The weather is crap, comparatively, but it's not as cold as here." The paler picked up her burger and took a healthy bite, a bit of mustard escaping the corner of her mouth.
"If we're going to chat idly about the weather, you may end up paying for lunch." Isabela jested as she finished the first part of her Rueben. Hawke just rolled her eyes. "Tell me something, Ms. Hawke. Why is it that you spent an hour at a party full of drunken sorority sisters, and not once did you hit on any of them? You're clearly interested in women, and only women." She settled her head on her fist and sipped at the chocolate shake.
Cassandra groaned uncomfortably at the memory of the night before. "Honestly, the ones I could hear over the music had really whiny voices. Hurt my ears. And they laughed like psychotic chipmunks at the corniest jokes."
The dark-haired woman gave an intentionally deep chuckle. "So what you're saying is that Ashley is not your type." Good. I don't want to send the obligatory 'hands off' text. They tire me so.
"I don't have a type," she stated plainly as she took another messy bite from her burger. I haven't dated enough to have a type. Shit, I haven't dated!
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but, mature women with fast cars, perfect tans, and ample breasts?" A fistful of sandwich didn't stop Isabela from talking with her hands, and Red found it oddly comforting. It was almost as if they were old friends, just enjoying a meal together and reminiscing. Of course, that was nowhere near the case. Neither party quite knew what to think of the other. Friend, lover, foe, or something in between?
"We'll see," Hawke said plainly as she took a sip of her coke.
"Hm. Indeed." Witty, athletic, and stubborn? A woman after my own heart. The rest of the meal went off without a hitch. Hawke didn't even try and pay for her food, knowing it would insult her host. Plus, she was a broke college student, so she couldn't deny a free meal. They walked back to the parking structure in relative silence before climbing into Isabela's 'concubine'.
"I suppose I should take you back to your dorm." The driver said as she started the car.
Red chuckled. "Yep, I've got a date with Karl Marx and the rest of the proletariat." She noted sarcastically.
A frown crossed over Isabela's dark features and she raised her eyebrow. "Kicked to the curb for a communist? I'm a little insulted." A lot insulted, actually. Are my tits broken or something?
"Marxist, and I think the word you're looking for is 'jealous'?" Cassandra smirked at her, blue eyes bright with amusement. This is fun. Why is this fun?
Isabela put the Shelby in reverse and backed out of her parking space, a hand instinctively going behind the younger woman's seat. "It does seem a bit unfair. I'm the one who bought you lunch." She glanced at her as they slowly descended through the garage.
Hawke laughed and rolled down her window. "Because you want to sleep with me."
"Sleep? Hardly." Isabela scoffed as they made it out of the building.
"Get me back to my room safely, and I'll consider it." The rugby player offered as she propped her left foot up on her opposing knee, a toothy smile evident on her slightly flushed face.