Turning a Blind Eye
As it turned out, putting Lyra behind the wheel of a vehicle was a very,
"Use the brakes!" he screeched. "Use the brakes!"
very,
"Yellow light! Yellow light! Slow down!"
very bad idea.
"I got it!"
"No! No you don't! You don't got it, Lyra!"
Things had started off so simple. Of course Lyra had been intimidated at first. But slowly, he taught her the basics. Which pedals did what, how to signal, how to hold the steering wheel. For two hours the two of them did nothing but circle the parking lot until three, practicing stopping and going. Her earlier attempts at braking were jerky and erratic, making the car lurch each time. She eventually got the hang of it all, and he even managed to show her how to park. She was a quick learner, much quicker than he had been.
Where did it all go wrong?
When he'd decided that it was a good idea to take Lyra out onto the real streets. Lyra had taken a liking to driving, much more than he would have expected. And she liked to go fast.
"There's an old la—WATCH OUT!"
"Ahhh, she'll be fine!"
"You're crazy!"
"Ooh, there's the market. Mind if we go grab some groceries?"
The car lurched again as Lyra caught some air, running a speed bump at about fifty miles an hour. Adrian screamed like a girl as Lyra slammed on the brakes, yanking the wheel to the side, making the car drift. The tires screeched, and she pulled into a parking space. The doors of the poor, unfortunate Honda opened. Lyra stepped out, fixing her hair and brushing off her plaid green/white flannel button-up and jeans, marching off with a hum.
The passenger side door opened, and Adrian stepped out, his knees buckling underneath him and he collapsed onto the sweet, solid land.
"Adrian, c'mon!"
He raised a hand weakly, his face pale. "C-Coming..."
He managed to catch up, unsure of how one tells a girl they've soiled their pants. The automatic doors opened. He grabbed a basket while Lyra was wide-eyed.
"It's amazing, isn't it?"
Adrian looked around, unsure of what she meant. "This is Ralphs, Lyra."
"But look at all the food, lined up on shelves in cans and bags."
"Imagine how much we waste every year," he remarked. "Enough to feed a third-world country."
Lyra strolled over to the produce section, picking healthy-looking vegetables and fruits with a discerning eye.
"Not as good as a farmers' market, but it'll have to do for now."
Slowly, her basket began to fill with organic apples, carrots, celery, salad, mushrooms, broccoli, garlic, onions, bell peppers, and all sorts of green, leafy items that Adrian especially knew he would hate eating. A bottle of extra virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar, canned oranges, canned corner. Then came the Italian blood orange and pomegranate soda and sparkling apple cider, Barilla pasta, Ragu spaghetti sauce, fresh garlic bread...
"Any protein?" he suggested, struggling under the weight of the overfilled basket.
"Oh, right, eggs!"
"Not quite what I meant..."
Adrian brought up the subject of lunch while they waited in line to check out.
"How 'bout we get something to eat? I think we skipped lunch. It's almost four."
"Gosh, I'm starving. Do you know any good places?"
He smirked. "A few."
The telltale golden arches of American capitalism came into view. Lyra snapped a picture of it on her smartphone. She'd been taking pictures like there was no tomorrow, as if she was afraid she'd forget what she'd seen. He held the door open for her.
"Mm, it smells good in here."
"You can just smell the consumerism," he cracked dryly.
Lyra gave a giggle and shushed him.
"What do you want?"
She studied the menu for a second, humming as if trying to think before giving him a shrug. "I dunno! You can order for me. I've never been here before."
As they say in America, there's a first time for everything. Hence, Lyra's first Big Mac, fries, and a large Sprite. He presented their trays and sat down, immediately diving into his Angus Chipotle burger. She remained oblivious to the large barbeque-marinated patty he inhaled, taking cautious bites at hers before enjoying it. They made idle conversation in the noisy restaurant, the topic of conversation suddenly switching from the impending thunderstorm that was about take place, judging by the looming black clouds and thunder in the distance.
"How's that burger?"
"It's...really good! What's in it?" she said, taking another bite.
"Cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, ketchup, mustard, beef—"
Lyra's head shot up, her mouth just hovering over her Big Mac. "What did you say?"
"Pickles?"
"No, no, you said..."
"Beef? Yeah. It's beef." His eyes widened. "You aren't a vegetarian, are you?"
The blood drained from her face as she looked down at the sandwich, swallowing. She looked a bit green.
"I'm a vegetarian," she said softly.
"Ohmigosh, I am so sorry."
Lyra continued eating anyways.
"I thought you said you were a vegetarian."
"I am," she said. "But...it tastes so good."
Adrian burst out laughing. "You're crazy."
"Thanks," she grinned. "You too."
The entire ride home had gone in complete and utter silence as Lyra contented herself to listen to her music on her iPhone. Not a single word, not a peep. However, as they parked, Lyra suddenly began to sniff. It wasn't a sniffle from a cold, or just her breathing. She was crying.
"What's wrong?" He pulled the key out of the ignition.
Those two words made Lyra burst into tears. She leaned over, burying herself into his shirt as she began to sob.
"I ate a cow!"
He never thought in his wildest dreams he would ever have the chance to cuddle with a girl in his arms...sort of. Close enough. Well, this was his chance, and he would be damned if he was going to give it up over something stupid as fast food. So he held her close, albeit rather awkwardly in that cramped space, his hand on her head, his other patting her softly on her back as he thought about the best way to comfort a former vegetarian.
"Shh, it's okay."
She's actually crying. Jeez.
"Why do we have to be so cruel to the animals?"
"Because they taste so good," Adrian whispered soothingly.
His attempt at a joke was received poorly, made obvious as Lyra began to sob theatrically even more, burying herself into his chest, clutching at his favorite shirt. Nonetheless, he was a shoulder to cry on.
"I'm sorry. I know how hard this must be for you."
Through some tears Lyra huffed and thumped a fist against his chest, suddenly back to smiling and laughing. "You're so mean!"
Must be that time of the month.
"So does this mean I can't wear my leather jacket?"
There was a magnificent crack of lightning and thunder from outside Lyra's window. The dirt and grime that had accumulated on the outside was washed away. Adrian could wax poetic all day about the rain and how cleansing it was, making the earth anew and fresh for life to blossom. He wouldn't have minded going for a jog, just to get that squidgy feeling when his jeans and shoes got wet. He set the groceries down on the kitchen counter top, helping to put them away.
He dusted his hands off. "Guess I'd better get home."
Lyra suddenly grabbed his collar, pulling him back. "Oh, no you don't! Come back here, mister." She slapped five folded hundred-dollar bills into the palm of his hand. When he opened his mouth she silenced him, putting a finger to his lips. "Just take it."
"Thank you."
He shoved his hands into his pocket, "dropping" the money and quickly slinking away.
"Adrian!"
She made him open his wallet and put the money inside.
"It's the least I can do," Lyra told him. When he didn't look exactly convinced, she said, "If you take it, I won't feel guilty."
He agreed, moving to leave.
"Adrian?"
He didn't even have time to turn around before Lyra pulled him into a bear hug.
"You forgot this," she grinned.
Adrian hugged her back, squeezing her just as hard as she did. There was another thundering boom. Just as he was about to see himself out, Lyra reeled him back in again, pulling his collar.
"What?" Adrian asked, exasperated.
"I don't want you driving out in the rain," she told him. He was about to remind Lyra that he was completely capable of driving on slippery roads, but she would have none of it. "You're staying here, mister." She poked him on the chest.
"Lyra, I think I can handle myself out there," he said, moving to leave.
She grabbed his ankle. Adrian glanced down at the girl holding onto his leg and tried walking. She held tight.
"Not gonna let you go," she sang.
He sighed. "But I'm hungry," Adrian groaned. "We have no food."
She cleared her throat, gesturing to the bags of groceries.
"I can't cook."
"Silly, you aren't cooking. I wouldn't let you even turn on the stove!"
He sputtered. "Since when did I become a magnet for trouble?"
"Do you know how to make spaghetti?"
"Sure!" he said. "You just take the sauce and...add pasta?"
"You," she said, giving him a patronizing pat on his head, "are going to be my assistant."
"How do you even know how to make spaghetti?"
She rolled her eyes. "Internet."
With the press of the remote, the apartment was filled with catchy pop music. Lyra stripped off her flannel shirt and kicked off her shoes, clad in only a tank top and jeans, and tied her hair back in a ponytail. He decided right then and there that he most certainly had a thing for ponytails too.
"Well?"
Adrian couldn't resist.
"Where do we start?"
Adrian could barely fathom the amount of effort it took to cook a dish as simple as spaghetti, let alone the side dish of bell peppers and onions and garlic. His eyes stung as he sliced away at red onions and colorful bell peppers, trying his hardest not to slice off the tip of his finger. Lyra worked at the sauce, adding a little bit of this and that, a dash of pepper and some salt and throwing in some chopped garlic and mushrooms while she boiled a pot of water for the spaghetti.
"Did you toast the garlic bread?"
"On it," he said, placing three slices in the toaster oven and cranking the knob.
"Almost done! C'mere, tell me how it tastes," Lyra said, offering him the spoon.
He gave a small lick, tasting it. "Good," he said.
"Adrian," Lyra giggled, pointing at him while covering her face with her other hand.
"What?"
"Adrian, you uh," she giggled, "have something..."
He wiped at his face with the back of his hand. "Did I get it?"
"Hee, no."
He tried again. "How 'bout now?"
"Oh, just lemme get it..."
She leaned in close to his cheek...
and gave it a big, sloppy lick.
"Eugh! Lyra!" He grabbed at her and used her shirt to wipe his face.
"Ew!" Lyra squealed, squirming away. "That's gross!"
"You licked me!" He grabbed her around the waist as she tried to run, hefting her up.
She kicked in the air, giggling. "Leggo!"
After a bit of horsing around they finally got around to setting the table. Forks on the left, napkins on the right, and a plate of freshly boiled pasta topped with spaghetti sauce and a green garnish laid on top. In the center beneath the chandelier was the vegetable stir-fry. Lyra popped the cork on the bottle of sparking cider, pouring a flute for both of them. On a plate there were three slices of garlic bread. The entire spread looked like something out of a cookbook. A heavenly aroma filled the flat as Lyra dimmed the lights only slightly and lowered the volume on the sound system. The music selection changed to something that Adrian could only describe as "lovemaking music".
"Dinner is served," Lyra declared, handing him a glass and giving him a wink.
They toasted, clinking their flutes of cider together. Dinner was indeed served. The spaghetti was al dente, the sauce tangy and sweet with a hint of sour and the bitterness of garlic and the crunch of red onions. The bell peppers had a bit of spice, thanks to Adrian, who had a bit of an affinity for cayenne pepper. The garlic bread was toasted to perfection. There were periods of silence punctuated by conversation concerning topics that seemed to have no rhyme or reason, filled by background music. It was a much less formal, more comfortable setting. It was here they felt most at ease, where they could forgive each other for chewing with their mouth open or stuffing their mouth or slurping. It felt less like a date and more like dinner between friends. Instead of focusing on whether or not his elbows were on the table, he could pay attention to Lyra.
"You're an amazing cook," he said.
This was quite frankly, the best meal he'd had in weeks.
"Why, thank you," she said with a haughty, British accent.
Before long, every single plate on the table was clean, not a single scrap of food left. Not wanting to be inconsiderate, he began helping her wash dishes. In the midst of rinsing them, he noticed Lyra staring at him. It wasn't a you-have-something-on-your-face kind of stare. It was deeper. A bit more longing.
"I'm gonna go take a shower, 'kay? Don't go anywhere," she said. She turned around, pointing at him. "Stay. Put."
He barked.
"Good dog."
Out of curiosity he tried to smell his breath and rinsed his mouth and reached for a box of Altoids he carried everywhere he went, popping one and chewing the mint. Then another, just in case. A third, just to be sure. There was nothing more unattractive than bad breath. Besides, tonight, he was going to make his move. Nothing too big. Just a kiss on the cheek, that was it. Maybe just before he left, after a hug. He promised himself he would and by golly he was going to do it!
Fifteen minutes later she emerged from the shower, barefooted and damp with a towel wrapped around her body.
"Just a sec."
He waited anxiously for a whole two minutes, his heart thumping in his chest as he thought of all the ways his kiss could go wrong. He glared at his watch, tapping his foot.
How long does it take to put on a shirt?
He climbed the short steps to the small bedroom and managed to spy Lyra at an inopportune moment as she was just in the middle of wrestling on a loose tank top, catching sight of her lyre tattoo inked into a good portion of her lower back. She turned around, a bit surprised before she giggled, modestly covering her chest with an arm.
"See something you like?"
The two of them sat on the couch, watching reruns of Friends. Neither of them were really paying attention to what was happening onscreen. Adrian turned his head slightly, noticing a space between them. He stuck his tongue out, concentrating as he casually scooted over, closing the space between them, slowly stretching his arms out in a subtle motion.
Do it. C'mon.
Lyra leaned into the motion, leaning against his arm, pulling up her knees onto the loveseat.
Just do it. Kiss her.
He leaned his head lower...
It's one kiss, not rocket science.
"You know what they say about boys?" Lyra suddenly said.
"Huh?" He snapped back, fumbling his hands and trying to look completely natural. "Huh? What?"
"They say that when it comes to relationships, ninety-nine percent of boys are hopeless." She placed her hands on his chest.
"Oh really?" He studied her expression, looking for a teasing look. He found none. "Whoa!"
Lyra pushed him over so that he lay on his back, their hands together as she spoke in hushed tones. One leg dangled over the edge of the couch.
"Mmhmm. And studies show that even though girls make it so obvious they're into the guy, it just goes right. Over. Their. Head." With each punctuated word her voice seemed to drop lower, and lower in tone until it became a soft, velvet croon.
"I have reason to believe that your case studies are inaccurate," he murmured, looking away, feeling a tad bit overwhelmed. "You know, ninety-nine percent of statistics are made up on the spot."
"Is that so? Well then," she giggled. "Then maybe we should fix that."
"What do you mean?" A sly grin made its way across his face as it dawned on him that he knew exactly what she meant. Then a feeling of dread, because he knew exactly what she meant and was taking him by surprise.
But Lyra beat him to the punchline, leaning in close and whispering in his ear, "Kiss me."
It took a moment for his brain to process those two little words. "W-What?"
"You heard me," she said. "Kiss me."
Their foreheads pressed together, her golden eyes locking with his, making sure that he couldn't look away. She had brushed her teeth; he could smell the toothpaste.
For Adrian the simple act of pressing his lips against Lyra's was something akin to theoretical physics. What kind of angle was optimal? How much force was he supposed to apply? Was there supposed to be any tongue? He took his chance, and he did kiss her. He leaned in, and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. He felt her furrow her brow, and he pulled away.
"You missed," she whispered.
She tugged at his collar, pulling him back in, reeling him in like a fish. He leaned in again, placing a second one on her soft, smooth cheek, holding it there a little longer, inhaling her creamy scent. Apparently, she'd also put on peach lotion.
"Not there," she huffed, tilting her head forward and cupping his jaw in her hand.
Their lips finally met in between. He pursed his lips even more, feeling lightheaded as he felt her warm, supple lips pressed against his. His heart hammered away in his chest. He pulled away, his face feeling hot.
"I-I'm not a very good kisser," he admitted.
"No," she giggled. "No, you aren't. But I'm not either."
They kissed again. Lyra tilted her head sideways. He tilted his the opposite direction. His fingers combed through her damp hair, his hand on her back. She copied his motions, her arm around his neck, parting to elicit a soft, sensual moan.
"Is this your first time?" he groaned in between kisses.
"Yes."
Again. He opened his mouth to breathe, when suddenly she darted her tongue between his lips.
He took a breath. "Liar," he panted.
"Maybe." She smirked. "You taste minty."
"You too."
They both gave a small laugh.
I could get used to this.
He liked it. A lot.
Lyra rest her head down on his chest, looking outside the window. "Looks like the rain stopped."
A good sign of things to come. A resolution to unresolved tension.
"Mmm, I don't wanna move," Lyra sighed.
"Me neither."
Considering the position they currently both lay in, he wasn't sure if he ever wanted to leave. He secured his arm around Lyra's midsection, her rear pressed into his hips.
Adrian woke several hours later, finding it to be two past midnight. He shifted slightly, coming to the realization that he was sleeping with Lyra in his arms. He moved slowly, carrying her curled form back to her bed and tucking her in, giving her one last kiss on her forehead. He went home shortly after, feeling light as air and lightheaded. It was as if he'd achieved something. As if he'd overcome an obstacle. Those feelings of uncertainty melted away, replaced with elation.
He no longer dreamt of Lyra because his dreams had come true.
Lyra found herself waking to the sunlight shining in from her window. She sat up suddenly.
"Adrian!"
He was nowhere to be found. She'd fallen asleep on the couch. He must have carried her there.
"Did I kiss him?" She ran her tongue along the inside of her mouth, her eyes widening. "I kissed him," she uttered.
She covered her face with her hands before she tore them away, sitting up tall. She hugged herself, falling back into her bed, squeezing her pillow with a squeal.
Her tone became triumphant. "I kissed him! I kissed Adrian!"
It felt so good. It felt so right.
At first, he only came to visit frequently, taking Lyra out on dates. It had been one week since their lips met. The first week had been simple. Walks in the evening at Cal Anderson Park and immersing themselves in the artistic side of Queen City. Lyra's ears had been opened to the sound of Nirvana and Pearl Jam and the jazz culture in smoky coffee shops. Tonight was a bit special. He'd made reservations at the Space Needle Restaurant to celebrate.
"Hey, Lyra?"
"In the bathroom!" she called.
He rapped a fist on the ajar door. "Ready?"
"Almost," she said, inviting him in.
He entered, absolutely taken with Lyra's looks. She'd gone through the effort of actually putting on makeup. Only a little, a bit of mascara and eyeshadow to bright out her unique irises. Her hair was styled just so with her bangs swept back. She wore a strapless white cocktail dress and matching heels.
"So? How do I look?"
He answered her with a kiss on the cheek. She squirmed, rubbing a hand on the scruff of his chin.
"We need to do something about that beard of yours."
He'd neglected to shave for the past three weeks and now had accumulated a moderate shadow.
"No way."
"It tickles when you smooch me."
"But it makes me look manly."
"The scruff goes."
"Alright," he sighed, reaching for his razor.
"Ah-ah," she said, grabbing it before he did. "No need to get your clothes messy."
He smirked, letting her sit him down in a chair, taking off his suit and shirt. "And what about you?"
She shamelessly flung off her dress, in nothing but panties and a bra, suddenly straddling his hips, sitting in his lap with a razor in hand. "Better?"
His eyes wandered lower. "Ah...uh-huh."
The Seattle skyline at night. High above the rest of the city, the two admired the skyline, starry-eyed over dinner, the structure rotating slowly.
Adrian ran his hands over his face and clean-shaven jaw, shifting in his seat, tilting a glass back.
What happened to her bra? he thought as he peered down his nose.
Lyra, too, noticed his wandering gaze, and instead of pulling the front of her dress up, leaned even more forward with a devilish smirk.
"What's your dream?"
He looked up from his meal, some noodles still in his mouth. He slurped them up quietly and wiped his lips.
"Come again?"
"Dreams. What's your dream?" Lyra tilted her head, a smirk on her face. "What do you dream about, Mister Ross?"
He smirked back, sipping at his sparkling cider, pointing out towards the skyline. "Do you see that building? The tall one, right there?"
She took a moment and then nodded.
"The Seattle Times headquarters. That's my dream." He swallowed another bite of his dinner. "And what's your dream, Miss Hartstein?"
She gazed longingly outside the view from the Space Needle, sighing happily, propping her chin up on an elbow.
"I think I'm already living my dream."
He found himself nearly about to question the cryptic meaning behind her words, but caught himself. He found himself caring less and less about Lyra's past. He'd made a promise to himself to help her, but like most promises, that was broken. Her past didn't matter, at least not to him. Lyra wasn't defined by her past; she was defined by who she was. And she was a beautiful, intelligent girl. Like many things, the question of her identity and past were conveniently shoved away in the back of his mind where he pretended that they didn't exist. He stopped asking questions. After all, one tended not to ask questions when they had a hot piece of ass by their side. Not that he would ever describe her as such. He certainly wasn't complaining.
Ask no questions and be told no lies.
Lyra dove into her dessert, licking at the frosting on her slice of cake. He snickered, seeing that she'd gotten some frosting on her nose.
Of course, in life there is no such thing as a perfect human being. Lyra was not perfect. For Lyra things were never off the table. She had no shame in asking him his opinion on touchy subjects like politics or religion or history, to which he quietly hushed her and told her that was a conversation for another time, though he was glad to discover that she held similar views like him. She was a bit clumsy, sometimes struggling with simple tasks like buttoning her shirt or anything that required dexterity. She had a tendency to avoid questions she didn't like, and she certainly wasn't the type to tell him what was on her mind even if she did looked distressed.
Lyra raised a hand.
"Check please!"
Adrian insisted on paying for half. She relented, if only to relieve him of some of the guilt of having her pay for most things. She signed the receipt, and Adrian noticed that her handwriting had grown steadier and more confident. She flicked her wrist, putting the amount due in the pad and closed it as she had learned to do.
By the second week Lyra had figured out that he'd been subsisting on a diet of instant noodles, and strongly insisted that he stay with her. Reluctantly, he accepted the offer. He moved his clothes and other personal belongings into Lyra's penthouse.
He'd held her hand when she cried at the tragic climax of Les Misérables at 5th Avenue Theater and the touching story of Amelia at the Seattle Opera and indulged his more classical side with her at Benaroya Hall with the Seattle Symphony. They'd discussed at length the artistic integrity and quality of pieces at art galleries, the Henry Art Gallery, the Fyre Art Mueseum, the Seattle Art Museum. They'd nearly spent an entire day admiring the unusual architecture of steel and glass of the prismatic Seattle Central Library, combing through the shelves and playing hide-and-seek. On nights where they both were unable to fall asleep they'd gone out for a walk, often finding themselves in some coffee shop, or maybe a nightclub.
Lyra's little "journal" was growing larger and larger with each passing day chronicling time spent together, or maybe just sights seen or music heard. He was not privy to whatever information she was recording. Adrian was only able to sneak brief glances at what she was working on, finding nothing out of the ordinary than a word document with digital images taken on their escapades.
He took the couch, despite Lyra's protests. But every morning he would find her in his arms, snoring softly, snuggling deeper into his embrace. He felt each rise and fall of her chest, her warmth, smelled the shampoo in her hair.
By the fourth week Adrian practically lived at Lyra's flat now. The first week of July.
Adrian eventually relocated himself to the space beside Lyra's bed, and achieved the same results in the morning until he gave in, and slipped beneath her blankets beside her. Their feet and legs tangled in cold summer nights as they fought for the sheets, and they stretched themselves out lazily on hot summer nights.
There were times when he felt that everything was moving too fast. But Lyra was quick to assuage him in his fears.
It occurred to him that not once in the past weeks had the words, "girlfriend", or, "boyfriend", had been uttered. There were no words to be said.
Adrian stroked Lyra's arm, moving down to her hand, giving it a squeeze. He kissed her on the cheek, then shifted slightly in their cuddling position.
He was happier and healthier than ever before. He stood taller and straighter, setting his shoulders back, and walked carefree, comfortable with himself and his image. He wore contacts instead of his dorky glasses. He spent a little more time grooming himself in the morning. It would have been a sad commentary on society to see how easily having an attractive partner could do wonders for a person's self-esteem if he could care any less.
Lyra rose, hearing her iPhone vibrate on the nightstand beside her bed. With a groan, she blindly reached for it, having to slip out of Adrian's arms as she did so, looking at the text displayed onscreen.
"its been a month"
Then, another, two seconds later.
"we need to talk"
For some reason having to read the words instead of hearing them from a menacing, threatening voice seemed to take the impact away. It was like a dull surprise now. She'd known it was coming. She was expecting the text, in fact. But it was too soon, too quick. But she had no choice.
She grabbed Adrian's hoodie, the smell of Axe faint, jumping into a pair of jeans. She grabbed her keys to her Toyota Camry from Rent-A-Car. Silently, she reached under her desk and pulled out the briefcase, thumbing the clasps and reaching inside for her "insurance" before sneaking off, calling the elevator.
In the darkness of the night she could take comfort in the moonlight which illuminated the park. Lyra sat down on the park bench, her hands shoved away in her pockets.
Five minutes later, a woman joined her, taking a seat on the opposite end, her face obscured by the shadows. She wrapped herself tighter in her hooded leather jacket, crossing her legs in a masculine sort of manner, a pair of steel-toed combat boots on the ends of her feet. She clawed her fingers through her bleached hair, styling it into a fauxhawk, brushing a purple highlight behind her ear.
Silence. Neither party was willing to speak to each other. Then,
"Hey Gilda."
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Some rather large edits have been made to previous chapters that have removed some scenes, so just gloss over those if you need some clarification or something. Sorry. Sometimes you plan something and it doesn't go according...to plan?
DUN DUN DUN!
Yay new chapter
"She rolled his eyes"
What, telekinetically or something?
I love the fact that she keeps eating the burger - nice twist on how Anthropology handled the same scene.
Been waiting for Gilda.
I knew it.
Oh great. Now I have to read everything again. Not that I'm complaining...
Pfft who am I trying to fool...
Oh, my, god. PLOT TWIIIIIIIIST!
Gilda!? Oh... can't wait to see what happens next.
HA! I called it a while ago. Silly Gilda go home
Loved it, can't wait for another update!
poor gilda, stuck there while lyra screws around and wastes time.
Oh gee, it's Gilda. Who could have guessed? ^^
Still leaves the question why Lyra and Gilda were hired by the changelings.
TOTALLY CALLED IT
OMG WTF BRB LOL
I mean
Whoa! This is awesome... We al(most)l anticipated Gilda! I love it
Glad that Lyre finally stopped trying to hint at things... her studies were right... when it comes to picking up the signs a lot of guys are pretty clueless. Even if we're pretty sure that they're coming onto us we seem to second guess ourselves a lot. At least that's how it's been in my experience. Of course I have to say... when a girl pushes you on your back and then says "kiss me" I'm not sure how many of them aren't going to get the hint that the girl is gonna kill them if they don't kiss her on the lips!
Also... I know that Lyre has a lot of money... but I'm still wondering what are they going to do about funds/money? Unless there's more than I remember (a lot more) it's gonna run out eventually... but that's the long term I guess.
I seem to often look long term xD 
Was wondering when the other shoe was going to drop with Gilda. Of course if she's admitting to knowing what's going on now the phone call bit in earlier chapters makes a lot less sense... of course you might have removed that. I'm just too lazy to check!
Also I rather enjoyed the opening bit with the car, and Lrye's introducing to meat. I feel like you could have done more with that or at least hinted that more is going to come of that. After all some veggies can get really upset if they eat meat... and the fact that Lyre is used to thinking of cows as creatures like her it would be even more disturbing for her... of course you could be planing on doing more with that and I'm just not aware of it because I have to wait for chapters to come out!
GASP
I do believe this "likes" and "dislikes" bar should have a slight adjustment.
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Mmmm yeah. I'm a little
but people like supernatural ponies a little more, but I really wanna write this one right now
Fuuuuuck yeah! Update!!!!
I'm rather uprooted by the fact that Adrian and Lyra are now a "couple" but she still has a lot of secrets and he seems to have forgotten about her past. Is this some sort of elaborate scheme Lyra came up with to ease his mind or are these little subtle hints a view of the bigger picture of her TRULY loving him?
It's sad I'm more interested in their relationship and intentions rather than the impending meetup with this person who seems to remain hidden in the shadows.
Well, I think pretty much most of us had guessed it was Gilda by now.
But it still begs the question as to what the buck is going on, and now what
exactly is Lyra's "insurance"???
1784462 I really wanna read this one right now
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Well... this was fun.
so i take it that this was the unpublished chapter that was almost lost during site changes a couple of days ago
I love Altoids.
Oh yes, and of course this story.
'Twas obviously Gilda.
Your Lyra characterization is pitch perfect.
For the love of God, no one tell her about glue factories!
Ahh, young love. Isn't it beautiful?
Too bad it's going to end up horribly torn apart by the conflict. So sad.
Finally, favorite character is properly introduced.
Freddy mercury is saluting this win for you Adrian!
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To Adrian:
YEAH, BUDDY! GET SOME!!!
I KNEW IT WAS GILDA
Good chapter, btw. If you changed and said it was Gilda before, I don't care. I thought it was her from the beginning.
TBH, it was quite obvious that it was her all along.
1785268
TBH I was almost scared when people still kept calling, "Scootaloo", even after I dropped gigantic hints
Well, during the extremely mushy scene, I was thinking in the back of my mind, "Come on Gilda! Kick down that door and start some ass-kicking! You know you want to..."
Her "insurance". You know, just in case she crashes. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Who didn't know it was that griffon, Gilda?
Please tell me she will be able too stay in the human world. I just hope she and he(because Adrian WILL find out) can prevent the changeling invasion of Earth.That WILL happen if things go according to the plan. Chrysalis does need a way to feed her children. If they can infiltrate Humanity, then they will be unstoppable a s humans have no magic detection.
1785582
Apparently a lot of people missed the clues that I dropped on their heads a few times.
1785628How? She was someone who was antagonistic towards ponies, has white hair with purple highlights, and loves flying.
1784223
I think you're looking for this.
>"Hello Gilda"
EFFING CALLED IT!!!
IN B4 GILDA IS ACTUALLY SPIKE IN DISGUISE
called it
You fucking nailed that kiss scene. Bravo. Fucking aced it.
That was also a lot fucking hotter than my first kiss. The aisles of a dollar store cant compete to "All Tied Up" in a expensive as fuck loft apartment.
No mention of the tingles, though. Did you all get the tingles too, or was that just me?
1786450
Ehhh. No tingles, really. With tongue (the only kisses that matter), I was trying to figure out her taste.
My first kiss scene with detail! Yay!
1784455 my reaction
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1786530
If that seriously is a line from Anthropology I'm going to punch myself in the face.
1786536 its not a direct line from the story. That quote just rung the Anthropology bell in my head.
but in all honesty, that bell has been ringing since chapter 1. Again, not a bad thing.