[ It rumbles in her belly, the air shifting out of her lungs when she breathes out.
She feels so very alert and alive when he says yes ma'am (wow, does that make her feel cool) and accelerates. Lottie tries very hard to bite back the curve of her lips, the matching curl up Cassian graced her with, when they pick up speed. It feels so lame to say she feels like she's in a movie but it's the only thing she can compare it to, when they so smoothly shift past car after car. Cutting across lanes, looking at the stupefied and vaguely annoyed passerby's with a face that says ha ha — because she sticks her tongue out, too, probably because they're showboating when there's no reason to.
(Later, when she reflects on this by herself in a dingy little motel room, she'll think about one specific movie franchise. Fast and the Furious. Is that why it go so popular? She gets it, if it was. The thrill and adrenaline, the fun of controlling a little metal machine to do fun stunts.)
She's got the window rolled down enough to ride the rapid winds with her hand, wave after wave before she looks over at him just to see (there's been a joy in seeing him drive, too, another aspect of the Furious franchise she'll have to mull over). Her brain doesn't register it but her body does, holding onto the handle right as he lurches the wheel to the side.
Something like a choked shriek echoes inside the car, melding into a bark of a laugh that lands on ohmygod. Oh my god, she says again, lightheaded and blinking rapidly. ]
What the hell was that??
[ They're back in the right lane and already drove past everyone in their way, on their way back to her car she thinks. Her skin is buzzing, head fuzzy. Brown eyes look at his, equal parts stupefied and in wonder. ]
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She feels so very alert and alive when he says yes ma'am (wow, does that make her feel cool) and accelerates. Lottie tries very hard to bite back the curve of her lips, the matching curl up Cassian graced her with, when they pick up speed. It feels so lame to say she feels like she's in a movie but it's the only thing she can compare it to, when they so smoothly shift past car after car. Cutting across lanes, looking at the stupefied and vaguely annoyed passerby's with a face that says ha ha — because she sticks her tongue out, too, probably because they're showboating when there's no reason to.
(Later, when she reflects on this by herself in a dingy little motel room, she'll think about one specific movie franchise. Fast and the Furious. Is that why it go so popular? She gets it, if it was. The thrill and adrenaline, the fun of controlling a little metal machine to do fun stunts.)
She's got the window rolled down enough to ride the rapid winds with her hand, wave after wave before she looks over at him just to see (there's been a joy in seeing him drive, too, another aspect of the Furious franchise she'll have to mull over). Her brain doesn't register it but her body does, holding onto the handle right as he lurches the wheel to the side.
Something like a choked shriek echoes inside the car, melding into a bark of a laugh that lands on ohmygod. Oh my god, she says again, lightheaded and blinking rapidly. ]
What the hell was that??
[ They're back in the right lane and already drove past everyone in their way, on their way back to her car she thinks. Her skin is buzzing, head fuzzy. Brown eyes look at his, equal parts stupefied and in wonder. ]
How did you do that?!