Coquetry

I pulled my bike to a stop and prepared myself to wait for an opportunity to cross the busy road, a wait that frequently defied all accepted lengths of time allotted for waiting to cross streets. I turned my head to look towards the sound of a car pulling up alongside me. The driver rolled down the window and looked me in the eyes, which I immediately rolled.1

“Noah.” I stated flatly.2

“Good afternoon to you too, gorgeous!” he greeted me, with a mischievous and pleased smile tugging at his lips, “Riding home from an early evening frolic in a field of blooming flowers?” At my confused glare he gestured to the bike, “Nice ride.” My bike probably did look juvenile compared to his position in the driver’s seat of his car, I’d give him that, but still.3

“My mode of transportation means nothing. For all you know, I’m on my way home from having sex with my boyfriend.” 4

He raised his eyebrows, “And you are currently dating… who?”5

“No one, but that’s not the point.” 6

“It isn’t?” He questioned, bringing warmth up my neck with his insinuating tone.7

“No.” I shook off my discomfiture, “The point, Noah, is that just because I happen to be riding my bike home does not associate me with juvenile innocence. And anyways, it’s none of your business.” I said, pointedly, then looked up to see that the road ahead of me was clear to cross. I gave him a quick glare and pedaled across the street. When I had crossed, I looked back to see him still sitting on the other side, waiting.8

Seeing my attention, he waved, and sticking his head out of the car window yelled, “Avery! Where were you really?” 9

Teasing him with my most coquettish grin I responded, “The library,” and pedaled off before I could see his reaction.10