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1217 Words
Appie jingled her mother’s keys in her hand like they already belonged to her. “Can I borrow the car this weekend?” she asked, rocking on her heels, eyes all wide and innocent.
Her mother looked up from the sink, towel in hand. “The hatchback?”
Appie nodded quickly. “Yes! The small one. It’s easy to drive, perfect for me. Please, maman?”
Her mother arched a brow. “Perfect for you, hm? Why? Where are you going?”
Appie hesitated a beat too long. “Just… you know. A little drive. Out of the city.”
“That so?” Her mother’s eyes narrowed, playful suspicion gleaming in them. “And with who?”
“No one!” Appie said, far too fast.
Her mother chuckled. “Ah, I see. Not ‘no one.’ Someone.”
“Maman!” Appie groaned, throwing her head back. “Don’t do this.”
Her mother leaned on the counter, smirking. “Is it a boy?”
Appie pressed her palms together in mock-prayer. “Please don’t make me say it. Just—please. I really need this.”
Her mother tapped her chin, as if weighing something very serious. “Hmm. Begging already. That makes me think it’s definitely a boy.”
Appie buried her face in her hands, laughing despite herself. “You are impossible.”
“Negotiations, then,” her mother said brightly. “Do the dishes all week, and I won’t ask again.”
“Done,” Appie said instantly. “Every single plate.”
Her mother tossed the towel over her shoulder. “Fine. But take care of her—she’s small, but she’s my favorite.”
Appie’s grin spread wide as she clutched the keys to her chest like treasure. “Promise! She’ll be back spotless. Merci, maman!”
Her mother called after her as she darted off, “If you come home late, I’ll be waiting with more questions!”
Appie didn’t answer—her laughter trailing down the hall said enough.
---
The morning was warm, the kind of summer light that painted everything golden. Appie waved as Baron walked up, and then burst into laughter.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, pointing at his shirt.
He looked down at himself, puzzled. “What?”
She stepped back, holding out the hem of her own blouse—same pale blue, the shade of a cloudless sky. Their jeans even matched in tone. “See? We’re coordinated. Accidentally. People are going to think we planned this.”
Baron chuckled, shaking his head. “Or that we’re soulmates.”
Her grin widened. “You said it, not me! But it really does look that way.”
He laughed, conceding the joke. “Fine. If people ask, I’ll just say we’re on a date.”
That made her snort, and she smacked his arm lightly with the back of her hand. “Don’t sound so casual about it!”
They laughed together, the sound spilling into the bright street before they climbed into the little hatchback.
As Appie fastened her seatbelt, Baron shifted awkwardly in his seat. “Confession,” he said quietly.
She glanced over. “Yes?”
“I can’t drive. Never learned. Don’t even have a license.”
Appie blinked—then broke into a delighted laugh. “That’s it? Oh, Baron.” She patted the steering wheel proudly. “Then it’s settled. I’ll be your driver. Anytime. Anywhere. Just say the word.”
He looked at her, amused. “That sounds dangerous.”
“Dangerously fun,” she corrected, winking before starting the engine.
And with that, the little car hummed to life, carrying the two of them out into the summer.
---
The hatchback zipped down the sunlit streets, windows open, Appie’s voice tumbling out as fast as the wind rushing past.
“Okay, so this corner café—see it? That’s where my parents had their first fight. Over cheesecake. Can you believe that? My mom swears dad took the last bite on purpose. He says he was saving it for her. Same cheesecake they still order every single year for their anniversary.”
Baron gave her a sidelong glance, lips twitching.
“And over there—that bakery? Best almond tarts in the city. But you have to go before noon or else they’re gone. Once I dragged a friend there at six in the morning. She was not happy. Worth it, though.”
She hardly paused, pointing at fountains, theatres, old apartment blocks where she swore the city’s poets once lived. He listened, his quiet hums and the occasional raised brow encouraging her to continue.
By lunchtime, they stopped at a new restaurant Appie had always wanted to try. “I don’t even know what’s good here,” she admitted cheerfully, scanning the menu. “But I bet you’ll pick something boring, so I’ll order for both of us.”
“Risky,” Baron said, dryly.
“Exciting,” she corrected, grinning.
The afternoon blurred into more driving, more stories. “This park? I once tried to rollerblade there. Fell so many times the ducks scattered. And *that* clock tower? I used to believe if you made a wish when it struck twelve, it would come true. Tried it for years. Nothing. Still, kind of magical, right?”
By dinner, they had ended up at one of Appie’s favourite little restaurants—nothing fancy, just good food. When the bill came, Baron quietly took it.
“Hey!”
“You drove,” he reminded her. “Fuel’s on you. Food’s on me.”
She squinted at him in mock suspicion. “Fine. But dessert? My choice next time.”
The sun was sinking when they finally turned toward home. Appie was still talking, her hands flying off the wheel for emphasis. Baron leaned back, listening, storing it all away.
For her, the city was alive in every street and story. For him, the day was alive in her voice.
---
The hatchback rolled to a gentle stop in front of Baron’s building, the street quieter now, washed in the warm hues of evening. Appie leaned on the steering wheel, glancing at the tall façade with a grin.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding all this time? You made me work for it,” she teased, tapping the wheel lightly.
Baron unbuckled his seatbelt, unhurried as always. “Now you know.”
“Finally,” she said, stretching the word, satisfaction in her tone. “I’ll expect an official invitation sometime soon. Tea, coffee, piano in the air—whatever you do up there.”
He looked at her, steady, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll invite you.”
That was enough for her. The grin softened into something warmer, quieter, the kind of smile that didn’t need words. She nodded, as if to say good.
And then, just like that, the smile became her goodbye.
Baron stepped out, watching as she shifted the little car into gear. She waved once through the open window before pulling away, the hatchback slipping into the evening traffic.
Only when the red taillights faded from view did he turn and head inside, the building’s silence closing around him again.
- Writer
