Crystallized: We Go Together Like PBJ [Pt. I]

After jerking into park, Crystal shucked her head out the window. "Yoo-hoo!" she honked. (Another honk was snuck in for good measure.) A furrow caught her brow as, one quick duck later, the volume on her radio was reduced to a quiet fuzz before the gal promptly reemerged.

With a smile, she slung one hand atop the car roof and there, like a doll, she waited.

The sedan whirred before a two-story home, cut in typical multi-corniced, gable style, built ready to go. The french fries of modern suburban real estate in its full glory, topped with a tapered picket fence and probably fake grass. Sprinklers spewing probably fake showers.

Swish.

"Hey, gurl!" With the verbal pass back, the front door swung open, and out walked the occupant of the hour, clad in her usual tight light-blue jeans and well fitted tanktop, seamed with flowery patterns across the fabric.

"Hey-hey," waved Crystal, in exaggerated valley-style. The recipient cast her face down, softly laughing, and proceeded to the vehicle in silence.

Clambering into the car, the first carpooler greeted Crystal with a wink and plopped into the seat next to her. Meanwhile, designated driver settled back onto her own comfortably lined chair with an inquisitive gleam.

"Still sore?" Crystal had now turned to face her friend full-body.

"Hm?" The newcomer was rummaging through her handbag. "Oh, ugh, hell yeah. My legs feel like mashed potatoes right now, literally, and it wasn't even 5 miles--"

"No, not that," Crystal dismissed with a handwave. "I meant after that. You know," the girl mused, "when the shoes were off. And the couch is calling. A warm, peaceful evening..."

Her bronze-skinned friend gasped, and backhanded Crystal's arm. "Crystal, no!" Through the pair's laughter, she managed, "Oh my god, for the last time, he's just my fitness coach!"

"Yeah, yeah."

"I'm serious!"

"So're those pecs, am I right?"

"Hey, hey. Hey." Pause. Slowly, she attempted to continue. "...now I ain't saying he's not fine." At this, the pair spluttered into an ever irrevocable set of cackles. "Damn it, Crys! Shut up shut up."

Crystal clutched the key in her ignition, turning it. "You shut up."

VRRROOM-VRRRMM.

"Uh-huh."

Reigning back the subject, Crystal sighed, "So what was it you wanted to show me?"

Not long after the engine revved to life, the curly-haired girl, currently in a hair bun, had her head slightly tucked down before finally finishing her rummaging-schrummaging, and pulled out a handful of slim strips of paper. Narrowing her eyes, however, Crystal realized they weren't any plain barks of tree.

She blinked. And realized it again.

"Monae," eyes widened, the young lady had to summon words, "you kidding me?"

Her friend simply shot a coy smile, wriggling the tickets in her hand, as Crystal scoffed in disbelief.

Those were real.

Those were authentic, de facto tickets to the next Totella event, the one to be thrown down that weekend; the biggest, most popping outdoor musical festival this side of the mountain range, where a bunch of hotshot musical artists from all genres came together and rocked and waxed for a three day extravaganza, aka, party it up in your crop tops and flip flops 'cause it was going to be one of those summer days!

There was a fancy getaway casino-hotel which offered discount lodging during the event, and even a 'funfair' square prepared on the side, featuring games, attractions, overpriced food, overpriced merchandise, a full on ferris wheel. Call it a more 'family-friendly' distraction partitioned from the main course, but always there for inclined souls -- you could still hear the driving speakers blaring away from the desert arena anyway. The funfair plaza was always stationed but a few blocks down from the concert site. Just enough to remind you what you were missing.

"So." Crystal, having returned from the initial rush, just finished marking the date on her digital calendar. "You tell Lana and Patty yet?"

"Nope."

"Tchaha." The two glanced at each other, a funny look crossing their eyes as Crystal bumped the car back into the street, neglecting to turn the radio back up, be it from a slip of the grey matter or an impromptu fondness for the outdoors' natural melodies. While the two gabbed away, one bird flew out of its nest above, tree leaves rustling.

"Agh," was the sound of a young man nearly tripping over an irregular split on the pavement. Swiveling his head around, he re-composed himself, cleared his throat, and mashed his finger on the doorbell.

Patience, Jim.

It's not the end of the world. Not yet.

A passing car caused him to jump and turn back, when suddenly, in front of him, chimed an angelic voice. "Jim!"

"Marianne!" Now he was jumping and turning forward, hands awkwardly drifting in front of him. All thought stopped in their tracks when his eyes fell across her. A simple floral sundress that hugged her slender curves and surprisingly fit hips was her pick of outgoing wear, capped with a pair of strappy open-toe footwear. Above, she was made-up to perfection -- that is, with not too much makeup at all, her hair cutely done up with a little fringe across the top of her forehead, loving pink lips and button nose framed like a scenic view of a waterfall.

Bro.

Bro, he was going out on a DATE with this chick!? He didn't know if he should get an erection or cry or... you know, both.

"Uh, Jim..."

"Sorry! It--you're just looking great today, that's all."

Smiling, Marianne slipped out of the doorway, foot making contact with the pavement as she carefully stepped over the one upraised square.

"Then let's get--"

"Hey Marianne!" Suddenly swooping in was a voice from beyond the gate. The two turned to see a well-built fellow in a muscle shirt and jogging shorts, stopping mid-run.

"Hi Bayle! Out for the daily jog again I see." Marianne and Jim walked down the pathway. When Marianne got to the runner, she stopped, lifted a hand, and stuck one hand through his armhole, feeling and pressing against the naked chest underneath.

"All the way 'til the marathon." Bayle didn't flinch. Marianne brought her other hand over to lightly slap his cheek, then run her hand across his thick, muscle bulging arm, squeezing and kneading rapidly around his prominent triceps and biceps, before giving them one more hard, rigid pinch.

"You got this Bayle, I know you do." She now had both her hands in front of her, her other drawn out of his armhole, and nonchalantly pressed them upon his midsection. She then began casually running them over Bayle's entire tanktop-covered torso, stopping up top to squeeze his pec flesh, gathering as much a handful as she can with her small hands before returning down to stutter across his four-pack and around again.

"Thanks, Marianne. Hope you get that engine of yours fixed."

"Tryin'," Marianne laughed. Pat pat.

With a nod, he bid farewell, throwing a friendly nod to Jim before running off. Marianne reached out to slap his butt and give it a brisk sqwueeze between her fingers just before he was out of range. Then, he disappeared behind the hedges.

"Okay." Marianne's eyes returned to her boo of the day, whose own eyes had been exploring the benefits of her turned body, now darting back up in a jiffy. Man. her ass was tight. She may not be wearing pants, but he has seen her in them. And he knew. He knew she had a round, supple set of cheeks on her. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah! Yeah." He pulled his keys out of his pocket, unlocking his car doors with the button. Marianne took shotgun.

"To Point Square."

Jim started the engine and smirked at her. "To Point Square."

In the back of his mind, a little bird chirped away at his psyche. It was obvious that that Bayle dude was a chick magnet, and Marianne probably had a thing for him. Especially with all the touching. Nothing wrong with females touching guys like that per se, it was ordinary for girls to have their handy way with any guy they wanted. But it still made Jim feel a little sordid. Tense. A slight bit insecure.

This? This was his time to prove himself, and he was so determined to get it right that he didn't want to spend any unnecessary seconds pondering whether Marianne was returning the interest. But this was just how it went for men. Any time they were with a girl, they'd have to sit back and stand to the side as any man that caught her superficial interest was up for her grabby fingers. It was part of the game.

Even if the game sucked.

Sigh. Was it always this way?

...what was he talking about? Of course it was. A tale as old as time. His own mom met his dad by accidentally squeezing the latter's dad's (his grandfather's) dick so hard in a random parent-teachers event that he had to get hospitalized, and voila, she got to introduce herself to the rest of the family. It's true. There are pictures.

Way to 'meet cute.'

As the car moved, he glanced at her through the corner if his eye. Marianne was currently on her phone, texting, looking perfect, her smooth arms glistening under the fragments of sun.

Don't fuck this up. Don't fuck this up Jim!

Every guy needs their chance at getting laid... please, heaven above. Please--aw hell, they ain't gonna care about my sex life.

For a chance at that, what I need is a superpower.

A bird -- a real one -- flew out of the rustling brush of a tree above them.