It had been a while since we’d seen each other. A long time. The last time had been behind the bar, in the back of a nightclub where I was playing. The last time, and the first time, in fact; it was the day we met.

I was leaning against the bar, he stopped beside me. I turned to complain indignantly about the cigarette smoke, then I saw him. He gave me a mischievous smile and took another drag on his cigarette. This time, diverting the smoke away from me. I raised my eyebrows at him, at that scene, actually. The bartender handed me the beer, I took it, and left without saying a word. He could tell he’d won me over, of course; that smile made it all clear.

He came over to ask me for a song. He didn’t have to get so close to do that. I stared at him.

– Britney.

– Dean.

I couldn’t help but laugh. Of course, neither of us had given our real names. It didn’t make any difference. I programmed the song he wanted and… well, at that hour, in the back of a rock bar… saliva and moans are so banal.

But today was different. Very different. And I was wearing pants. And his mouth had smeared my cheap makeup. And there was no back of a bar, because there was no bar. We had parked the black Impala in the middle of nowhere, a dirt road and the cliché of the bush all around. But when lust screams, it’s hard to wait. Especially when it involves people who weren’t born to wait.

I leaned against the car, pulling on his pants, but he was faster, throwing me facedown onto the hood. I only realized it when he was already inside me. It was something between instinct and instant, those numb seconds that, once they’re gone, you can’t even remember how they felt. Maybe it’s that idea of ​​being completely surrendered to a moment. I think I only fully regained consciousness when we were already leaving. Figures and tracks in the background, and indecipherable noises in the darkness we were leaving behind.