waiting for the bus

A bus passes my car heading toward Holly. It's labled "Route 4" and it pulls up to the bench where Holly's sitting, which is also incidentally a bus stop. She uncrosses her legs puts out what's left of her cigarette beneath her foot. As she bends over, her blouse shows off a generous amount of cleavage to the bus driver and anyone on the bus who cared to look out the window. She got up from her seat on the bench and boarded the bus with her backpack dangling from one delicate shoulder.

I followed the bus down a block; its rear ad for condoms, "Not ready to get knocked up? Not ready to knock one up?" taunted me along the ride. It took a left, so I took a left. It stopped in front of an apartment building, one of the cheap, crappy ones near campus. I quickly pulled into the adjacent parking lot, the far end, so Holly couldn't catch me following her.