Still the Same | Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Still the Same

Besides, Phil was fun to talk to.

After watching Butch Cassidy in a second-run theater, he'd taken you to Conway's. You two had talked about the last Apollo mission over stuffed hash browns. He joked about becoming an astronaut. You pointed out he'd have to join the Air Force for that. He grunted and mentioned the upcoming draft.

"I might have no choice," he said. "It's horseshit."

"Will you dodge it?"

He sighed. "Nah." He took a drink of his peanut-butter shake. "Might join the National Guard to avoid charlie altogether."

"Well," you began and set your fork aside. "You're free now."

"Damn right." His almost-hazel brown eyes darkened. "Wanna get outta here?"

You should have said no, but you didn't. You grinned and fished out your change purse.

"I got this," he said.

"Let me get tip."

He nodded, said, "Thanks," and went to the register to pay. You admired him from the back for a second. He'd worn his Sunday best. Well, Saturday best. You didn't know if people dressed up for temple. You didn't even know if he went to temple. Either way, he looked nice in an oxford shirt, slacks, and a suede jacket.

After leaving a decent tip, you joined him at the register. He took your hand after stowing his wallet. His warm palm engulfed yours. You thought of that palm cradling your breast, those fingers between your legs.

Maybe tonight would be better than last Friday.

In the car, he asked, "Mesa Overlook?"

"If you want."

"Yeah, I definitely want."

You snorted. You didn't doubt it for a second.

His eyes glittered in the light coming from the diner. He looked at you like he wanted to say more. You smiled at him before facing the windshield.

He asked, "Are you sure? We don't have to."

You turned your upper body to him and braced your hands on the bench seat. He pivoted towards you, a smile playing beneath the surface. You glanced at his lips.

"I don't know..." Putting a little husk in your voice, you asked, "How about we go back to my house instead?" With a grin, you finished, "And play Bridge with my parents?"

He laughed and leaned in. "I'm not much of a card player."

"Pity."

Maybe you could've helped him with his poker-face.

You returned to your seat and placed your purse on your lap like a proper lady.

He followed you, scooting across the seat. As he drew near, he curled two fingers under your jaw to turn your head.

"Hey," he murmured once you were looking at him.

His eyes danced as he studied your face. He swooped in and caught your lips with his. Your breath caught, chest instinctually arching. He held your jaw where it met your throat. No one had ever done that. Your stomach tightened while your cunt clenched.

He pulled back to murmur, "Mesa Overlook, yeah?"

"Yeah," you sighed.

He kept his hand on your bare thigh the whole drive. You kept thinking about that hand creeping up your skirt. You really wanted this time to be better.

At night, the red sandstone formations were black. The gibbous moon dripped silver over the craggy tops. The distance between where Phil had parked the car and where the ground rose around the mesa seemed impossible to calculate. The snow-crowned mountains were even farther, yet wrapped around the quiet car to hide the horizon.