How to Steal a Happy Ending

~ Interlude: why not ~

~~~ last summer ~~~

"This always happens to me." I declared gloomily to the raven haired boy who was standing in front of me, scrutinizing the front wheel of his motorbike. He had his cell phone out so as to shine some light on the problem.

We were stranded on the highway leading back to civilization and for the hundredth time I asked myself why we always used his bike to go to Shelly's. Like a needy girlfriend, there was always something wrong with it. And being the inattentive prick he was, James always failed to take notice, provoking her to break down and stubbornly refuse to take us home.

In between all this haggling, my curfew would sneak past us like the slippery devil it was. Free ice cream almost wasn't worth the scolding I'd get on occasions like these. Almost.

"What always happens to you?" He asked, only half listening. James ran his fingers over the tiny puncture and motioned to me with his other hand, "Put your thumb over this."

I took a step forward and complied. "Everything," I answered, before throwing my head back to sigh at the glistening moon.

Choosing to ignore my theatrics, he spread out his emergency repair kit across the seat and swatted my thumb away. "Hold the light," he ordered.

I crossed my arms, reluctant to follow such rude demands. But as strong gust of wind blew around us, slipping its cold hands under my sweater, my stubbornness waned. Seconds later, his phone was plopped into my outstretched hands along with a pair of pliers and a wick.

He crouched near the bike and set to work on getting it back into running condition, while I just stood there. Barely there muscles rippled through his shirt while his eyebrows scrunched in concentration.

There wasn't much to look at really. Everything around us was in shades of blue and navy. The pale moonlight barely making up for the fluorescent glare we'd become accustomed to. But it was nice, the dark of a crescent moon night...almost romantic.

"Why does everybody love you?" I asked after a few quiet moments filled with me being taken in by the way the shadows danced around his features. His hand shot up to snatch the tools from my grip.

"What's there not to like?" he replied absent-mindedly, more focused on plugging the small hole in the back tire with a wax wick. Then briefly, his gloved hands stilled and he cast me a sly side-ways glace. "You've spent enough time staring at me, you should know."

At that moment, I'm sure any passerby would've been able to see the glowing red stop sign that my face had turned into.

"I do not," I hotly exclaimed, hoping that the louder I say it the more convinced he'll be of it. I couldn't tell if it worked because his head dove out of the range of the light I was shining on the tire. This was followed by the sound of air filling up the previously limp rubber, returning it to its original taunt state. "Anyway, I didn't mean it like that. I meant what do you do to get them that way?"

Dusting his hands, he rose with a air of victory."You mean get them to love me?" I nodded and watched him get back on the bike.

"Well Clary," he tugged at the cord of my hoodie, causing me to bend down towards him, our noses a hair's breadth away. "I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."