“Fuck you, you automatic shit stain,” she screamed into the sound, into the dark, into the useless, “fucking auto-drivers,” she mumbled harshly as she turned back to Trevor. Poor guy was still standing there, still with his eyes closed, Still hoping he was going to get that kiss. She watched him for a moment. “Who’s the statue now,” she said and Trevor snapped out of his trance of want. She laughed at him and he went from love to pissed in zero point two seconds.
“Fuck you, white girl,” he said and moved to leave the ﬂickering circle of light.“Trevor, wait,” she said but, he was gone. She sighed, thought for minute and then she went after him. He was half way down the street when she caught up to him. She ran and faced him, walking backwards while she talked to him. “I’m sorry, I was being funny,” she said.
“Well, don’t quit your day job to become a comedian cause you’re not funny,” Trevor said, not stopping, not slowing. She let him get past her but she kept up with him, walking by his side. “I got things to do, white girl,” he said, eyes forward, jaw clenched, “I don’t have time for your shit.” She grabbed his arm, stopped him, turned him, kissed him. He fought for a heart beat then, gave in. The kiss ﬁlled his head and he got weak. He reached up his hands to hold her face, make the kiss last longer but, she stopped him. Grabbed his hands in hers and pulled them down to his side. She broke the kiss and smiled.
“I’m sorry, Trevor,” she said and his anger, that he so wanted to hold on to, so wanted to use as a shield against her, shattered and crumbled useless at his feet. “Forgive me?” she said, looking up at him from under her eye lashes. He shrugged, trying to remain aloof but inside, her forgave her. “Thank you,” she said, hooked her arm under his and started them walking again.
“What do you want, white girl,” he asked after he had enjoyed her arm in his and the silence of them just walking together.