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Aqua Love Bubbles
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“Of course that’s not what I want,” Lamb says, right away — and realizes she doesn’t have to overthink it at all. The two of them are getting on the bike, Strip is handing her the helmet, and Lamb keeps going, thinking out loud. “But… what do you think you want?”
“Ah, man,” Strip grumbles — as if being asked that is a drag, or at least a hardship. It seems to make it easier on her that she’s facing forward now, seated on the bike, and she revs it a little and pulls out onto the highway before continuing. “I’m not really — I mean, I’m not good for anything really serious right now anyway,” she admits, her voice clear and low through the snarl of the engine. “And I think getting too intense about it right now would be, like… a bad idea, since the squad still hasn’t graduated, and we’re all, like, still competing for the witch-blade… it just gets weird, you know? Especially — I mean — I think things might get nasty between me and Sirloin, when it’s down to the wire. It’s already been tense. We’ll get over it, when it’s all said and done, but—”
“What about Rack?”
“Rack’s not going for the witch-blade,” Strip mutters. “Or at least she better not. Not when she’s not even staying.”
This is getting off topic, urged along by Strip’s habit of taking a single thing that irritates him and shaking it to death like a dog with a rabbit. Lamb has a nightmarish flash of spending all evening discussing interpersonal grievances instead of continuing what was happening out in the desert and moves to divert it, doing the first thing that comes to mind: tightening her arms around Strip’s waist, sliding her hands up his torso. This is flirting, right? Sure. “And afterwards…?”
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