Vivian or Viv, to her friends, had never been on a first date quite like this one. She had been tired of all the boring stock photo tinder dates recently, so she expanded her search area. When that only landed more of the same tired assholes, just with different obsessions, she got desperate. Her friends called her thirsty, but she equated that to just wanting a dick, no she wanted something else. She was far from thirsty. Toys can quench thirst and they come with zero risk. She probably should not have ventured this far out of her comfort zone, but here she was climbing on top of a moving cargo train with rolling through Downtown LA.
Zeke was classically handsome. His movie star jaw line made it easier to explain to herself why she was in her current position. She made it clear, leading up to the date, that she was not a Netflix and chill girl. Nor did she want to go deaf in the latest LA hot spot. Zeke, dressed hobo sheik in one or too many layers for this time in LA, happily obliged. So far their date hadn’t been paint by numbers basic bitch. About mid way through their stake out and tailing a random stranger, she had yet to figure out if he was a petty thief or a bored trust fund kid. The labels said trust fund, but the actions said otherwise. After they lost their subject in some horrific LA traffic, they stopped to grab a dinner at a AMPM. He asked her a simple question.
“Do you trust me?”
Viv hesitated before ordering her inner monologue to shut the fuck and replied, “Sure.”
He beamed as he turned the car down a side street. The turn caused her inner voice to escalate into a boisterous yell. You’re about to get murdered, bitch.
He stopped the car and slid across the hood, and opened her door. Inviting her to come with him. He took her hand and led her down a hill and through a broken fence. The ground was lined with cardboard and random packaging. She could hear trains moving through the gears and rattling through track exchanges. Were they going to tag something? She thought he mentioned during their conversations he might have been an artist. But he had no supplies. No paint or masks or cover for their clothes, he must be a trust fund kid if doesn’t mind getting that outfit or his shoes covered in paint. But she did. Her inner voice had won, and she spoke up.
“I don’t want to get paint on my shirt.”
It was all she could muster. He stopped for a second and said, “Where were you planning on painting?”
“I do not know, but unless you plan on murdering me, why the hell else have we come to a rail yard?” she responded and regretted it. Shit, I said murder.
He just laughed. Not a brilliant response. They rounded a bend to see a train traveling through the cardboard littered landscape.
“Trust me, it’s worth it.”
He held out his hand. She looked at the train with the sun setting behind it, and then back at his hand. Fuck, said her inner voice. Good-looking people can get away with anything. And she clutched his hand. They took off running towards the train. It had slowed and as they raced alongside it. She was certain she was going to fall. Then, without breaking stride in the most athletic move she’d ever seen in person, he lept on to the nearest car, while simultaneously scooping her up by the waist and pulling her close. Their eyes locked as she floated above the ground as it moved faster underneath her feet. She was flying. A smile grew across her face, one of joy and wonder that she hadn’t felt in a long time. He grinned and winked at her and whispered, “Almost there now.”
They made their way up the ladder and on top of the car. The train was picking up speed as it moved through the city. The sun crested over the Pacific and burned through smog and pollution to set the sky ablaze in a symphony of colors. He stood up on car and pulled her up beside him. He grazed her cheek with the outside of his hand and said, “Best view in LA.”
Viv lean in and he kissed her.