Really!?! Immediately?!?

So here's the deal, honest and true, I wasn't paying attention. Up at the front of the group, in front of some old building that looked wholly out of place among the jumble of modern ones up and down the street, boy-Kim was blathering on about the beautiful history of Phineas and this and that and all the things that he cared so much of and it's great that he cares so much about it but I just don't.

I don't. And I frankly have good reason not to.

"What made you say that?" I ask hurriedly, a hoarse whisper spoken to her from out of the corner of my mouth as we stand a few feet off and try to keep our voices down.

Well I try to keep my voice down, when Rachel replies to me it is chipper and cheerful and bright and loud, "What made me say what?"

"Keep your voice down," I whisper harshly, gripping her wrist and squeezing enough that she knows that I'm urgently serious, "What you said earlier. The thing about..."

Rachel turns to me and smiles slowly, deliciously reveling in the misfortune currently making me panic. She raises an eyebrow, but she doesn't put me out of my mercy.

And I sigh and I clench my eyes shut and I remind myself that she was on a bus while I was in an alley doing what I did. I remind myself that there is no way in the world she actually knows.

Two reasons. I have two good reasons for being generally checked out from boy-Kim and his lengthy lectures about the history of a town that I frankly don't really care about. Three reasons, actually, if you think about it.

First, I don't care. I don't care about the history of the town and I don't care about the specifics of this building. I don't give a damn who founded what or who settled where or how many generations there were involved in making up the foundations of this town that I will spend time in only when I'm both attending school and not busy on campus with something else. I came here for the school, not the scenery.

Second, and perhaps more importantly, Rachel accused me of something entirely truthful and accurate but also something she should reasonably have no real clue about. So questions of how and why and questions of whether or not she'll make it known what I've done out of some sense that it would be fun are frankly far more pressing to me than anything else right now.

And then third, a fact that genuinely eluded me for the immediate moment until I really started to consider it. Third is the fact that I've already been through this before and the fact that frankly I did pay more attention last time.

Last time I was listening. To everything, though for all the wrong reasons.

"The thing about what?" she teases me and finally I let out an exasperated sigh and address it head on, albiet still in hushed tones.

"The thing about giving a blowjob to a smelly fat old cab driver," I finally say, "Why would you think that I'd do such a thing?"

She rolls her eyes, as if it doesn't need an answer, "I know you. How many times to I have to tell you that I know you. I know what you want. I know what entertains you. And I know what you're capable of."

"What about me says I'd be capable of that," I snort, doing a pretty piss poor job of hiding the fact that she's closer than she ought to be, "I mean..."

Rachel fixes me with a glance, the kind of head tilted down eyes looking at me without bemusement and all I do is stammer and blush and all she does is let me hang on the end of it, dangling like I'm on the hook until I finally just collapse in on myself.

"I told you," she says, locking arms with me and leading me on, "I know you. And also I know well enough what I said to remember that I said you blew a 'smell old cab driver' and not a 'smelly fat old cab driver.' Pro tip, if you're trying to deny something maybe don't add descriptors to it."

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