A Chicagoan in Phoenix

Chapters

Our Pasts Through the Ages
The Code of Shimmer
Embrace the Magic, of a Supercharger
Never Gonna Bring Me Down

Our Pasts Through the Ages

Now that I’m back in SoCal, I can get a tentative plan together over my use of March, having bought it in order to keep my client reach and by extension my own commutes for leisure easier, so that I’m not slave to the conditions of Cajon Pass or Newhall Pass.

This does mean I’ll be changing my permanent residence, and for good reason as I just mentioned. However, what I need to determine is which ships need to be parked at March based obviously on client demand and frequency of trips. Because of this expansion, I’ve been randomly assigning trips and ships. Once everything stabilizes, I can assign ships to clients, so then both parties can “customize [the ship] as seen fit.” For now though, I need to reach out to my clients and see how often they might hire me to prioritize the ships that belong at March.

Because this weekend is a holiday, Presidents’ Day to be exact, I’m marking yet another Valentine’s Day without Rosalina, although we did spend “galentine’s day” traveling back to Hawaii. Suffice it to say, even though I’ve been itching to do long haul flights, the last two trips were more taxing than I expected.

*text – 42m ago – Sunset Shimmer*

“Hey Max, do you want to hang out over the long weekend?”

“Yeah. I’ll go to Phoenix. I haven’t been in a long time, and there’s stuff I like to do over there.”

“Sweet! I get off work at 6:00 on Friday.” She responds some 15 minutes later.

“I’ll be there by then, then. Two words: Chicago. Pizza.”

“Yeah, Princess Twilight couldn’t stop talking about it. Sounds like you showed her a good time.”

“She seemed to enjoy herself. I’m heavily biased for obvious reasons. Applejack also chose Chicago pizza anyway, so it worked out nicely.”

“In that case, let’s plan on it.

“You know, we’ve never done anything alone together. Just the two of us, if you know what I mean.”

“You’re right. We haven’t.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you have no idea how great I feel knowing we’ll be hanging out.”

“I know exactly how you feel. I look forward to it too!”

“I’ll call you tonight.“

“Just let me know when you’re free.”

“Perfect!”

With that, I decide to head down to Riverside and survey the field. I have brand new furniture coming in next weekend, so if I want to sleep there, I’m just on an air mattress for the time being.

Since my fridge is at a cyclical low in terms of inventory, I grab my air mattress and head to Ancho’s in Riverside for dinner. Very much a favorite of mine and my family’s, I spend quite a bit of time – most of the drive down from Victorville – deciding which entrée I’m feeling tonight.

By the time I place the order, I’m still indecisive, but instead order one now and my other choice to go just in case I don’t want to cook for another meal tomorrow.

Having taken advantage of an early bird dinner (at like 16:00), Sunset calls well after I’ve eaten.

“Hello?”

“Hey Max, Sunset, how are you doing?”

“Not too bad, yourself?”

“I’m doing well. Excited for this weekend.”

“As am I.”

“Oh, one sec.”

Based on the background white noise, it sounds like she just got home.

“Okay, can you hear me? I just switched off of Bluetooth.”

“I’ve gotchu.”

“Cool. So, what time do you think you’ll arrive tomorrow?”

“No later than 18:00. Tryna beat Friday rush.”

“Yeah, you need to.”

“[Los] Angeles rush over here. Preaching to the choir.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about then.”

“Yeah I do. Point is I’ll be in by dinner time.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“I’ll be driving in. Not really worth the hourlong hop, and Phoenix airspace can get nightmarishly busy.”

“That’s fine. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere far anyway.”

“Yay. Um, I have a house in Phoenix, so you don’t need to bother with making space for me.”

“I have more than 1 bedroom. It wouldn’t be a problem. Where’s your house?”

“On the country club.”

“No way! I live close by there. Which side of the course?”

“Don’t remember. Been a while since I was there.”

“Well then, looks like we have a bit of catching up to do.”

“It’ll be easier to talk to each other since it’s just us.”

“Very true. So, um, do you want to plan something now or kind of play it by ear?”

“It’ll probably be easier for us to see how we feel. Just so that at least I don’t feel forced to meet an obligation.”

“Fair point. Plus, if it’s Chicago pizza I’m always on about, probably best not to enjoy them back-to-back. I don’t know if you’ve been to either Gino’s East or Lou Malnati’s, but I’m a huge fan of the latter.”

“That’s what AJ said.”

“So you have an idea of what to expect, especially since we did that thanksgiving in Chicago.”

“I haven’t been to Lou Malnati’s here, but my coworkers mostly prefer Gino’s East. We do company picnics there.”

“Nice. So you know pretty much what to expect.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’ll take that as a good thing. You have an idea of what you like. Makes for an easier time ordering.”

“True, but I like trying new things from time to time.”

“Well, we shall see.”

“Sweet.”

“I’ll let you know when I leave. When it comes to road trips, I don’t stop much. My endurance at the wheel is often greater than the fuel tank.”

“Very true.” She giggles.

“Well, I don’t want to hold you if you have any plans for now.”

“No, no. I’m home for the night.”

“Alrighty then, I have to make a quick run out. I need to figure out which airplanes need priority parking at my new airport. Do you plan on flying anywhere with me more or less frequently in your mind?”

“Umm… I don’t think so. I haven’t ever hired you before.”

“And if memory serves me correctly, of your friends, you may be the only one left to do so. Even Starlight has hired me once already.”

“Wow. She really gets around doesn’t she?”

“In all fairness though, you live in Phoenix, and admittedly I don’t know you as well as I would like. Maybe if this weekend works out, we can change that.”

“Well, I would be happy to.”

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow evening then.”

“Yeah.”

“G’night Sunset.”

“Night Max. Bye.”

“Bye.”

With that, I start a new list of clients and ships, so that whenever I can, I can begin assigning ships to clients.

Next morning, I work up a bit of an appetite taking all but 10 minutes packing, so my enthusiastically diverse breakfast consists of a single apple. In case we go somewhere fancy, I bring a pilot uniform and blazer in lieu of a suit since I’m more comfortable in my work duds.

Once everything’s all packed, I shut the car’s boot and take a good look at the license plate before making my way out, ‘SHEDMN’.

Very aptly, the car that bears the plate is an 840 horsepower factory stock Dodge Challenger, aka… the Demon. Some of my cars are female, and this is one of them. The car is also red, TorRed, so it fits.

After I top off with petrol, I grab lunch of a Double-Double and Animal Fries from In-N-Out and a Chocolate Cake Shake from Portillo’s, enjoying the former on site then getting the latter via drive thru so I can enjoy it along with a bottle of water (it’s very chocolatey) for the drive to the Valley of the Sun.

CA-60 thence via I-10 all the way in. Estimated 4 hours 40 minutes. Challenge accepted.

An average of about 20 MPG highway for a car with 840 horsepower, all of which are usable thanks to me using the master key, is pretty good, especially considering that the car is built for standing quarter miles and can do wheelies. From a running start at about 60, it still forces my head back when I put my foot down.

Highway 111 towards Palm Springs and the exits for Palm Desert, Cathedral City, and Indio pass by relatively quickly, since I’m rather familiar with that stretch of I-10, and they’re the last real signs of civilization before Blythe.

Through Chiriaco Summit and Desert Center, the latter being the main turnoff for those heading to Lake Havasu, I make good time to Blythe, where I make a quick stop to stretch and dump trash.

When I get back onto the on-ramp, I of course give it the beans as it’s the last exit before crossing the Colorado River. When I cross the bridge, I maintain a cruise speed of 79 to go as fast as I want to without posing grave danger of getting profiled by police.

Now comes arguably the most grueling part of the drive, rolling hills of Arizona nothingness. Don’t get me wrong, I love the red rocks and appreciate the beauty of this desert, as the majesty of it is truly something to behold, *especially at sunset.* However, because I-10 is a long and straight road with nothing to see until the area considered greater Phoenix, I’ve had issues with either needing to go to the bathroom or falling asleep as a passenger. Since I’m driving however, if either of those situations should occur, I can make adjustments accordingly, since I can either increase my speed or start snacking or have a drink.

As I mildly weave, only increasing my aggression to pass the semis, autos with trailers, or otherwise slow movers, I soon approach Buckeye and decide to reduce my pace to about 72 as the amount of traffic on the roads increases. The local time of 14:28 puts me just outside the start of rush, but Friday rush can be unpredictable.

Sure enough, right around Glendale, traffic on I-10 West is, depending on whose traffic mode you reference, either yellow/orange or red. Granted, there is an incident off to the shoulder, which is probably responsible for some of the congestion.

Nevertheless, I take advantage of CarPlay and call Sunset.

“Hi, you’ve reached Sunset Shimmer, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

“Oh well.” I say after I hang up. “Must be busy.”

Suddenly, I hit the brakes as we head into the Papago tunnel. That’s my cue to start sliding over so I can hit the exit towards my house. Thankfully, the only reason we slow is because of the tunnel vision, meaning the sudden increase in brightness from emerging on the other end of the tunnel is blinding to drivers. I take advantage and get over to the first exit out of the tunnel, hot braking for others who are also taking the exit and jumping off either at the last minute or when it should’ve been too late.

I neutrally let a couple of those drivers in since they want the right lane, and after they jump, I miss the green light but am first in line in my lane.

Watching the multitudes of cars heading south down the road, I breathe a nice sigh of relief since I’m in Phoenix as Friday rush hour traffic is about to begin. As soon as the light turns green, I head for home.

As soon as I get settled and unpacked, I have a drink of water and wait to see about Sunset. She doesn’t get off work for another couple hours, so at least I can rest from the drive over.

After I finish the bottles of water I packed for the road, I get a text from Sunset.

“Sorry. Got me at a bad time. Come meet me at my office and we can go from there.”

Following that is her address and a hyperlink to Maps. I click on it and find it about 15 miles away from home, near Camelback. I don’t even need to get on the freeway.

When I roll in, I find a space next to a familiar Nissan 370Z. Being located in a plaza, her office isn’t the first one to spot. When I find it though, I walk in to the waiting room, where a receptionist greets me.

Just then, the door opens and two women step out along with Sunset, who’s talking to one of them.

“You’re both making really great progress. Go ahead and schedule your follow-up appointments and then you’ll be good to go.”

“Thank you Sunset. It feels so nice to be able to tackle these issues of perfectionism.” The other says on their behalf.

“I just can’t believe we let our desire to be the best get the best of us.”

“We even wrote a song about it.”

“Hey, it can happen to anyone.” Sunset replies.

The two then schedule their next appointment with the receptionist while Sunset and I greet each other with a tighter than normal hug.

“Hey Max! Glad you’re here!”

“Glad to be here. Haven’t been to Arizona outside of the airport since I bought my house here.”

“So, anywhere in mind for tonight?” She asks as she waves goodbye to her clients.

“Well, do you want Gino’s or Lou’s?”

“We don’t need to go to Gino’s. We always do company picnics there.”

“Alrighty then. Lou’s?”

“And we can get Culver’s for dessert.”

“I love Culver’s!”

“Sweet. You have good taste.”

After the receptionist closes up shop, we head for the closest Lou’s, one of a few locations in Phoenix, and only a few miles from the office.

When we arrive, our estimated wait time is about an hour and a half. I mean, it’s a Friday, the Friday before Presidents’ Day weekend. Nowhere in the Phoenix Metro is there gonna be a wait below 45 minutes.

“Well, you wanna go to the bar?”

“Nah. It’s crowded too.”

“You want to wait outside?”

“Nah. I’m cool waiting here.”

“Well, in the spirit of the surrounding occasions, I’d say we could talk about things but that’s not exactly the easiest thing to do in this situation.”

She giggles. “That’s okay. We’ll have a few days to do that anyway. Good thing we chose Lou’s tonight. Since we did have Lou’s when we were in Chicago.”

“Exactly. And that was the original location. This is just for comparison purposes to that. Besides, since we’re kind of following my list, Gino’s, Portillo’s, and Culver’s round out the midwestern portion of this trip. Other places I always go to are Waffle House and Shake Shack. California doesn’t have any Waffle Houses.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what. If Lou’s, Gino’s, Culver’s, and Waffle House are reasons enough to come here more often, at least I can add one more to the list. You.”

“Aww.” She blushes. “I do keep myself busy with work though. Running a psychiatry practice is pretty time-consuming from a daily standpoint.”

“I thought you were a psychologist.”

“Eh, yes and no.“

“But weren’t you talking to those clients of yours?”

“Psychiatrists can do talk therapy. And I used to practice psychology. I chose to move into psychiatry only recently.”

“Yeah, but don’t you study the inner workings of the brain rather than treating behaviors or whatnot?”

“Yes. I know the confusion. Of course, it doesn’t help that I studied both psychology and psychiatry when I was in college, but you know.“

“Yeah. I do.”

As we continue to talk, we eventually grab seats in the waiting area, but occupy them for less than 2 minutes, as my name is called.

When we get seated in a booth, Sunset sits across from me and says, “I’ll let you order. I trust your cravings, especially because you did good in Chicago.”

“I… I’m feeling kind of meaty.”

“I don’t mind eating meat.” She replies semi-reluctantly.

“You eat meat now?”

“I try not to.”

“I know you had chicken when we had dinner in New York.”

“Yeah. That was because I wanted to. Diet and exercise change. At the time.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t see any reason to change your diet or exercise regimen. You look great.”

“I didn’t need to, just figured I’d try something new.”

“Oh. Alright.”

“Good evening, welcome to Lou Malnati’s. How are we doing?”

“Good, how are you?” I respond.

“I’m not too bad. Dinner rush is all.”

“I feel ya!” Sunset interjects. “I used to work at a sushi place in Scottsdale.”

“Nice!”

“I’ll try and make life easy for you then.” I say.

“That’s alright. What will we have to drink?”

“Water’s fine.” I say first.

“Can I get a lemonade?”

“Regular, pink, or strawberry?”

“Pink.”

“You got it. Be right back!”

“Where were we?” Sunset asks.

“We were on the topic of diet.” I say suppressing a slight déjà vu.

“Oh. Yeah, I wanted to see what would happen if I increased protein in my diet. At the time, I was struggling with bloating.”

“I can understand that, though in my case it’s usually aggravated by traveling.”

“How would you keep weight down then if you made a career out of it?”

“Haha, good question. I was always big growing up. Then after I got sick of being unable to keep weight off, and motivated by horrendous and incessant fat shaming, I got a gastric sleeve, a lap band, and a gastric bypass.“

“Oh my goodness. How did you survive all those procedures?”

“I got them incrementally. First the lap band, to curb hunger pangs and discourage me snacking. Then the bypass since the lap band already constricted the stomach opening. The sleeve then followed not shortly after. Three countermeasures to stop me from eating more than I needed to. They were also intended to help with my blood pressure. I dropped half my body weight, which is exactly what I wanted, but my blood pressure is still high.”

“Aw.”

“Just the curse of being me. Long and deep family history.”

We get our drinks and place the order. For Sunset’s sake, I order The “Lou” because despite my build, I’m craving a vegetable pizza.

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Yeah. On both sides of my family, with one or two exceptions, everyone I’m related to has died of either a heart attack or stroke. The one exception was from sleep apnea, and the other was killed in Bataan during the Japanese invasion of the Philippines in World War II.”

“Geez. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t let it get me down. It just means I have to hope that I don’t become another statistic. Of course, with the amount of stress my life has given me, among other things, it isn’t exactly helping.”

“Yeah. Talk about life stress. It’s not easy to run a practice like mine.”

“How long have you been there?”

“I took over as head a few years ago, but the previous owner didn’t run it well. It’s been in financial trouble since I began, so I’ve had quite the uphill battle myself.”

“I see. Well, I’m just glad you were able to rescue it.”

“So am I.”

“Isn’t it great to be able to bond over our own career struggles?” I say as I half-raise my glass.

“Yep.” She says as she clinks hers with mine.

As we continue to wait, we start talking about our careers. Since Sunset wanted to understand how people tick, and how the brain reacts to stimuli, she chose to study both psychology and psychiatry, going for her doctorate in the former.

Soon, our pizza comes, and because of the recent holiday, how else would it arrive but in the shape of a heart.

Sunset goes red as her hair before the mistake is caught.

“Oh my!” Our server exclaims. “This was for another table. Sorry!”

We all share laughs over it as it’s taken away.

“Sorry!” I exclaim. “I’m not that forward.”

Still bright red, she reassures me with, “no no, yeah, I know. That was kind of cute though.”

“They are cutesy. They’re on special until the Sunday following Hearts and Hands day.”

“Hearts and hands?”

“I tried.”

Sunset then laughs. “Oh my. I haven’t been back in a long time. I’ve been wanting to, too.”

“Funnily enough, the now former Princess Celestia and Luna want me to. Luna specifically said she wanted to see the nightmares I had after the family disowned me.”

“You’ve told a few stories about your family. When did they disown you?”

“It became an official disownment when I attempted suicide.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Because not only was I a bastard for, or rather, not fit to be in the family by not going into the medical field to begin with, or in their words, ‘something with good money,’ attempting suicide was the, um, nail in the coffin.”

“Your family disowned you because you attempted suicide?”

“Yep.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Don’t you speak about my family like that.”

“They drove you to suicide, dumped you when you actually did it, and yet you still speak highly of them?”

“‘Friends are fleeting, but family is forever.’”

“The pot said to the kettle.”

“Excuse me?!“

“Family is forever, they said, but when you needed them most, they spat on you.”

“Because “I betrayed them.” I wanted something they didn’t, and I got mad because they said no.”

“I can understand that. I had the exact same thing happen to me. I wanted something I wasn’t meant to have, and when I was denied, I retaliated. And who pays the price?”

“Us.” I utter out as memories start to resurface.

“Yeah. I got plenty of flak for that.” Sunset says.

“I can imagine. They tried everything in their power to get my head out of the clouds. ‘Being a pilot is a great second choice,’ they said, ‘but you need something with more job security.’ Meaning, a *guaranteed* six-figure salary. ‘You want to be a pilot? Ha! That’s so preposterous.’”

“You do now. You have enough money for anything and everything you could ever want.”

“It truly is a miracle I never married a gold digger. It’s like I’m not even in the family. And never was.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I was very much spoiled rotten otherwise.” I shrug. “It’s where my sense of entitlement comes from.”

“Entitlement? I can see it, but I wouldn’t call you entitled.”

“I was willing to give up my social life for a fully loaded résumé. Looking back, I did give up my friends, and my résumé looks like it belongs in the reject pile.”

“But you’ve made it so far since then.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I remember though when I first got into the thick of pilot training: ‘in a perfect world,’ I would tell myself, ‘I would’ve had all my licenses and flight instructor permits by the time I graduated except for ATP. 7 certificates I could exercise before I qualified for the airlines.’”

“Sounds ambitious.”

“It really was. Undoubtedly overambitious as a matter of fact. I also distinctly remember telling myself, “if I had the opportunity, I would’ve said ‘all those certificates by 21, but I would give up my social life.’ My friends would see me as antisocial. I’d be super engrossed in my studies.”

“You were willing to give up your friends for your career?”

“No. I was willing to give up my social life for my career. And you know what? It happened anyway. I graduated late, lost the airline career opportunity of a lifetime, and lost my friends in the process.”

“You have Twilight, Rarity, Fluttershy, Pinkie, Applejack, me… Rosalina, and what about Melody and her family? They still love you.”

“I really shouldn’t be complaining, but I gave up a lot to try and make the most for my career. And not only did I have to settle for a consolation prize, I drove myself to suicide, lost my friends, and then my family not long after that.

“Sunset,” I then sigh, “I don’t have much in my life to be proud of; but at least I can say I did it.”

“And what did it cost?” She asks with a sinister smirk.

“Everything.”

The Code of Shimmer

“Well Max, thank you for dinner. I enjoyed it a lot.”

“Glad you did. What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“We can go around town I guess. We still have a month until spring training, so going to a game would be out of the question. If you wanted to do something outdoorsy, we could climb Camelback, or…”

“You want to head to your place or mine and we can talk about it?”

“Let’s go to yours. I can see where you live.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Look, we just went on our first date. I’m not that easy.” She responds faux-flirtatiously.

“Fair enough.”

I pull up next to her so she knows who to follow. When we roll into my house, I let her park in the garage, but she declines and instead remains in the driveway. When she follows me into the garage though, she seems to take offense to my car.

“You named your car ‘she demon’?” She asks indignantly pointing at the license plate.

“Yeah. She’s mighty purdy tho.” I say imitating Applejack.

“Ugh.”

“I’m sorry. Should I have brought something else?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just… that was a nickname of mine. A pejorative one, obviously.”

“Oh.” I sigh. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“Like I said,” she responds semi-defensively, “you wouldn’t have known. Besides, I don’t have a problem with the car. It just put me back in that headspace.“

“Well, if it bothers you, I’ll rent a car.”

“No! That’s not necessary. Since I’m looking at it right now though, I do have an idea for Sunday.”

“Let’s discuss it inside.”

Closing the garage behind us, I grab a glass and pour myself some water.

“Can I interest you in some filtered tap water?”

“No thanks.”

“So, what’s gonna happen tomorrow?”

“Oh. Um, what do you want to do specifically? You feeling outdoorsy? Watch a movie?”

“I’m not much of an outdoorsy person, though I am dressed for it, minus the boots. Though I always hike in trainers.”

“You should probably consider a pair of hiking boots.”

“I have three pairs, but I haven’t broken them in yet, so they’re still uncomfortable. I would’ve brought a pair had I known.”

“Don’t worry about it. Though speaking of hike, there is something I would like to do with you.”

“And what would that be?”

“A day trip to the Grand Canyon.”

“I’m down. Will that influence what we do tomorrow?”

“If you want it to.”

“Most of the stuff I like to do here is eating. Like most cities I visit.”

“I can tell. Not a fan of tourist traps?”

“Some, but I’ve done most of them, and if I’m honest, it was a one and done thing.”

“Uh huh.” She replies raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry too much about that though. I’m an antisocialite. I’ll hole myself up at home for days on end. And since I live in an airport, I don’t get cabin fever.”

“Well, the least we can do is walk around downtown. I haven’t done that in a while.”

“That won’t take all day though. A couple hours at best.”

“Yeah, but we can take our time.”

“True.

“Let’s plan on doing that. Where should we meet?”

“I live less than 2 minutes away. Whoever’s ready first can head to the other’s house. We’re pretty close to downtown. It’s right on my line of what I consider walking distance.”

“I don’t mind a bit of walking.”

“Then it’s settled. First one up and running has to wake up the other.”

“You’re on.”

“Night Max.” Sunset says as she heads out the front door.

“Good night, Sunset.” I respond locking the door behind her.

Next morning, I’m up at about 7:10. Normally, I don’t have issues in the morning, but today? Maybe it’s the excess salt from last night’s dinner. The cheese they used must’ve been saltier than I thought. For someone like me, who suffers from high blood pressure and has an increased sensitivity to salt, this can create a rare but painful shy bowel situation.

“Ugh.” I say to myself as I give up on trying. “Hopefully walking in the city can kickstart the process.”

As I use the steam to wake myself up, I let my thoughts run wild (not like that) as I usually do as a sort of warmup for the day. Even though I like to think of myself as logical and calculating, I enjoy giving my brain workouts to try and get myself to think more on my feet. I like to think it works, but if you were to ask me, I still lack spontaneity.

Nevertheless, I’m dressed and ready for the day. Just as I walk out the front door, I’m greeted by a brisk morning temperature of 62, according to my phone. Nevertheless, just as I lock the door behind me, it hits me.

“Ouch.” I say just as I hear a golfer swing in the distance, followed by a faint “fore!”

I head back inside to see if a ball has made its way onto my property. One ball appears out of nowhere, bounces, then rolls further down the course, next to the cart path.

“Mornin’!” The unusually friendly golfer calls. “[Did] I hit ya?”

“No! All good. Nice shot though! Right next to the cart path!”

“Thanks!” He says as he ~~putts~~ carts over to it.

Back to the matter at hand. Sunset didn’t tell me where she lives, so I’m at her mercy. As such, I text her.

“You never told me where you lived, so I’m waiting for you.”

*Sunset is typing*

No response. No read receipt.

With that, I lounge on my sofa and check my social media feeds.

Some of the family are currently in Vegas, and are contemplating a move there. One post from the cousin I saw in Manhattan has multiple pictures of houses for sale. The caption is “Por Que no Las Todos?” (sic)

I crack a small smile, but on the inside, I can feel a hairline fracture form.

Knowing I probably shouldn’t leave a footprint, I don’t. Instead, I continue down my feeds and find another post, this one titled, “Viva Las Vegas? More like Viva in Las Vegas.”

“They’re gonna move to Vegas??” I ask myself.

I then scour the rest of their pages to corroborate it. Quickly however I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that they’re the first posts. If they do move, it’s fine. I’m more surprised than anything, but it just means that when I go there, I have to be careful of where I go, in case I run into them.

All that frantic searching totally distracts me from Sunset ringing the doorbell.

*ding-dong*

*Call from Sunset Shimmer*

Scrambling toward the front door, I answer the phone with only an “on the way” and hang up, opening the door on one foot trying to squeeze my foot into my shoes.

“Mornin’ Sunset.”

“Hey Max,” she responds with her hands on her hips.

“Ready?”

“Are you?” She asks pointing behind her. “Your tv is still on.”

“Oh. Let me turn that off.”

After taking care of that, I lock the door behind me, Sunset gets the directions, and with that, we walk to the heart of downtown, which is to say the area between the Suns Arena and Chase Field.

With no plan other than to just walk around, Sunset and I kind of let the music take us across downtown Phoenix, though staying in the area, most of the things we see are places to eat and a couple of little attractions that neither of us find that interesting, or things that we already know about.

Eventually though, we find ourselves at a bowling alley. Renting shoes and debating which weight I want to bowl with, Sunset follows suit and sets up the lane. To my surprise, she enters my name first.

“You’re up, Max.”

Giving it my all, I send the ball down with a backspin aiming for pin 2. When the ball grips the floor outside the greasing zone, the spin stops as the pins are impacted.

Pins 6 and 10 are the only ones at the end of turn 1, so after I fish my ball out, I spare out and sit down next to Sunset, who nods and says,

“Not bad.”

I only grin childishly as Sunset goes for her turn.

Nine down, leaving only pin 8. Knocked over with an easy chip shot.

“If that guttered, I would’ve been absolutely gutted.”

Sunset very much rolls her eyes at that one.

The back and forth banter continues on throughout the round.

Cut to the 10th frame, when I misplay my throw ever so slightly and send the ball right through the middle.

Sunset gasps and stifles a belly laugh.

“There’s no way you can get both of them.”

“Of course not. It’s a 7-10 split. Long Beach or Pasadena?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been to either of those places?”

“Just pick one.”

“Okay. Pasadena.”

“Not gonna matter.” I say as I aim for pin 10.

The oil is working against the ball. House grease is meant to carry the ball toward the middle!

“No!” I shout when the ball hits the backstop, having barely, by inches, JUST missed the 10th pin.

“It’s good!” She says before she cackles in mad laughter.

After she collects herself, she throws a strike, followed by another.

And another.

“Bang!“ She shouts as she turns away from the empty lane following the turkey. She then points at me and finishes with, “you suck.”

“Yeah? Well, you know, that’s just, like uh, your opinion, man.”

“One more game then?”

“Oh, it’s on!”

When we finish our last game, we head for lunch.

Even though I have some items on my list, I have Sunset choose, since she has dietary concerns.

“It’s okay Max. I’m willing to eat meat.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to make me choose. I also understand that your background isn’t exactly harmonious with meat.”

“I promise Max. It’s not a big deal.”

“If you say so…” I say as we walk back home. “The place I want to try is outside of downtown. We’ll have to drive over.”

“What place is that?”

“Honey Bear’s.”

“Can’t say I’ve been there before.”

“It’s a friend’s recommendation.”

“Oh. Well, it’ll be something new to try.”

“I hope so. Though I fear it may have been over-hyped.”

“We’ll see, right?”

“I guess. You drive or me?”

“You can. You know where we’re going.”

“I do. And there’s a location also within walking distance. Do you want to eat in house or at home, so to speak?”

“We can eat out. We can get Culver’s again.” She winks.

“At another location then? They’ll probably have a different flavor of the day.”

“Definitely.”

With that, we walk a few blocks to our dinner.

“Ooh, this is good.” Sunset says. “You friend has good taste.”

“I agree.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I ask after the question starts bothering me, “but how has your relationship with the others been? I only ask for curiosity’s sake, so feel free not to answer.”

“Well, what do you mean by ‘has been’?”

“I guess I should start with ‘how do you all stay in touch aside from the obvious communication of mobile?’ More accurately, ‘how often do you get together’?”

“Well, Twilight likes to try for once a month, but obviously not all of us can guarantee we can be there. In fact, Chicago was the first time we all got together since… who knows?”

“I’m glad I was the one that got you back together.“

“So am I. The nice thing is now that you’re available, any one of us can book you.”

“You don’t have to be slave to an airline’s schedule.”

“Exactly.”

Because I ordered a little too much, I take a little longer than Sunset to finish eating. Nevertheless, once I’m stuffed to the brim, we make our way back to my place.

That evening, Sunset asks if I want to watch something. I pass on the basis that anything I’m interested in she wouldn’t like, so she sells me instead with “wanna be my player two?”

“You game?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of my thing.”

“You have multiplayer games?”

“Yeah, let’s go! I think you deserve to know where I live.”

“You think we’re moving too fast?” I say more facetious than serious.

“I don’t think so. We’re just making up for lost time. Besides, I’m the oldest out of the girls. I’m a big girl. I can handle you.”

“If you’ve been able to for this long.” I say as I grab my things.

When we reach Sunset’s house, located literally 15 minutes walking from my house, I step in and take in the sight before me.

Xboxes, PlayStations, a Switch, and more, with plenty of controllers apiece.

“No wonder you’re selective about who you invite home. They’d never want to leave.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many guys that’s happened to.”

“I can imagine.”

Sunset combs through her game library and to my surprise, it’s rather diverse. Where I would expect her to specialize in something like an FPS or open-world/sandbox style, she has almost all of it.

“Knowing you, you’ll be disappointed to know that I only have one Motorsport game.”

“You actually have a Motorsport game?”

“Yeah. Ironically enough, the one car I have in my garage is a Fairlady.”

“JDM spec I assume? If you’re calling it a Fairlady.”

“Probably. What’s the difference between US and JDM spec anyway?”

“Not much performance-wise. Mostly some aesthetics to accommodate the different types of number plates. Maybe a few horsepower. And the fact that it says Fairlady instead of a number.”

“Got it. What do you wanna play first?”

“Well, I suck at all FPS and most sandbox games. Even Motorsport games I’ll get my ass handed to me.”

“Admittedly, the only reason I have any Motorsport games is so I could play with my ex-boyfriend Flash.”

“You dated a petrolhead?”

“Yeah, back in the day. We go way back. We’re still friends, but us dating just didn’t work out.”

“I feel ya. You still keep in touch?”

“Yeah. He comes by here every so often, or I go visit him in Vegas.”

“What’s he do?”

“He’s a musician. He does house gigs and live performances in downtown.”

“He’s off-strip then.”

“You could put it like that.” She smiles as we run over a game to play. “He wants to be a detective though.”

“Nice. Well, I don’t want to make a decision, but we can start simple.”

“What, you want to play Mario Kart?”

“I’m biased, and I also happen to be married to one of their more or less central figures. I would defer to Gran Turismo, Forza, or Need for Speed, something more… real-world, subjective as that may be since this is you I’m talking to.”

“Funny guy. Um, we can start with Gran Turismo then. I don’t have Forza or Need for Speed.”

“Eh, it’s okay. They’re all single-player anyway and both of those games’ driving mechanics are a bit too… arcade-ic for my tastes. Gran Turismo’s arguably the most real world, next to Project Cars, but I prefer the former.”

“Sounds like Flash chose wisely then.” She says as she boots up her PlayStation and inserts Gran Turismo. “I’ll let you be player 1 for this. You probably will beat me at this game.”

“You wanna know a secret? Soft racing tires. They allow you to brake later, corner faster, and are more forgiving if you spin out. The downside is they’re horrible for fuel consumption. That’s why they’re virtually unseen outside of a racetrack.”

“Okay?”

“Don’t think too much about it. The tires you have even on your Fairlady are sport tires, not racing tires.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. You want to race the slowest available car in the game?”

“Hell yeah!”

The two slowest cars in game? The original Volkswagen Beetle, and the Volkswagen Samba Bus. Guess which one Sunset wants to race? Fillmore.

So, onto a track.

“We have to go somewhere with lots of changes in elevation. With a car like this, it’ll be fun to watch the thing slowly lose steam until eventually you crawl up in first gear.”

“Yeah, you’re gonna win easily.”

“I don’t know. A one-make race isn’t really even about driving skill anymore. The secret to winning a one-make race is consistency and endurance. One-makes are literal insanity because they are the exception to the rule of the dictionary definition. You can do the same thing and expect a different result each time. I know it sounds counterintuitive, but trust me on this.”

“Alright…”

Stock tires, no modifications, and no driver aids except for ABS. Sunset chooses automatic shifting, I of course choose manual.

Start!

After 3 races, we call the game quits and move on to other games that Sunset absolutely dominates me in. Call of Duty for example.

“You know,” I say as she kills me for the umpteenth time, “the last time I played any CoD game, it was ‘naked gun game.’”

“Uh, what kind of friends did you have in college?”

“Ones who knew how to take advantage of a geeky noob who never wore more than one layer. Basically, after every round, the lowest scorer would remove a piece of clothing, then once fully naked, had to walk up and down their hall. Bonus, if they had a final score of zero, or were the last kill, they removed two articles at the end of the round.”

“Please don’t suggest that. Ever.”

“No way. I played once. Never again. Besides, if it’s just you and me, you’d remain fully clothed and I’d be streaking multiple times over.”

*BOOM! Killed again!*

“That’s for suggesting it.”

*Killed by ShimmerCode*

“That’s for subjecting me to whatever brutal description of that horrendous game I could’ve gone my entire life without seeing.”

“Uh, technically, you’ve never actually, like, seen it.”

“That is literally the worst valley twang I’ve ever heard, and that’s saying something, seeing as you’ve lived there pretty much your whole life.”

“Minus the years I didn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Let’s see how you are online, since you’ve given me a little more than an ass-whooping.” I say as I put my controller down.

“You kicked mine on the track.”

“Oh alright then.”

As she signs in, she joins a public lobby and makes changes to her arsenal like clockwork. Donning a headset but flicking the mute mic button on, she jumps into combat.

Now, I’ve seen professionals go in with guns blazing, both in-game and IRL, mission dependent of course, but Sunset takes a rather unique approach to the game. Even in public lobbies, it’s obvious that Sunset utilizes the techniques and forms that she applies to her work.

Sunset knows how to get to her opponents in ways that affect them personally. Even though to her teammates (whose chatter I can hear through her headset), she’s “being a pain in the ass,” because she hardly uses guns. If you count the kills by knife compared to the kills by gun, she alone carries 99% of the match’s KDR, and she doesn’t even need a pistol.

After a full set of matches, she returns to the lobby and quits on account of “best I drop before too many get on to me.”

“A master at work. I’d recognize that same tact and on-the-fly calculations. You’re applying your knowledge of the brain to play to strategics. Weaknesses and strengths you can figure out almost instantaneously. I imagine you have to constantly adjust your factor of “young and dumb t[w]eenager,” which is why you tune into the chat but never speak.”

“You’re very astute. How did you figure that out in such a short timespan?”

“It’s not that hard to differentiate between a team strategy often used by professionals and a lone wolf who plays in a public match. Your strategy is one a lot of my friends emulated and some even championed, as they were homeschooled. I never got into the FPS genre as you oh so easily demonstrated, but I always was a sucker for strategy. It’s part of why I enjoy baseball so much. Most people see it as slow-paced, boring, and wissy, and it is. But… more than any other major sport, it’s a strategy game at heart. Think about it. Nowhere does the importance of strategy play a larger role both in and especially outside clutch situations than baseball. Sure, coming through in the clutch can come by strategy in almost any sport, but a lot of the time, especially in basketball and hockey, and by lesser extension football, it can boil down to luck. Clutch jumper, trick shot; hell, the Hail Mary, you see a lot of luck more than simply intellect. Sometimes, watching a well-placed bunt or base hit put the opponent in a checkmate situation is just perfect.”

“Fair point. I’m not much of a sports girl, but coming through in the clutch is still quite a strategic play. All sports are as you said a battle of strategy, but doesn’t luck come into play just as much as a good strategy even in a game as slow-paced as baseball?”

“You wouldn’t be wrong to assume so. My experiences are my own however. I see a game of chess as it were in baseball more than other sports, which at the risk of sounding shallow, may be because most athletes are focused on scoring rather than moving a pawn. Baseball affords more opportunities to use intellect rather than sheer athletic ability.”

“I can’t say I agree with you on everything you just said, but yes, the amount of brainpower in baseball combined with its utter lack of… continuous play (?) makes it intellectually stimulating. Even so, you can’t say a brainiac would enjoy baseball on that alone. All sports require intellect almost as much as athletic ability.”

“I’m not saying that it doesn’t. On the surface, baseball is more for the brain versus other sports that tend to ride on physicality. Basketball sells on the clutch jumpers, the broken ankles, the long threes, stuff that delivers a lot of luster. Soccer and hockey much the same. Trick shots, ball/puck handling, the ability to dodge opponents on the fly. Football: upset touchdowns, game-winners, a good on-field balance of run and pass game, and of course, the collisions. Maybe a little less so since the advent of chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), but again, singular, concentrated events that are a lot of luster and in the case of some are enough to grab attention but only on the surface, if you can keep up with my switch between the surface and What Lies Beneath. It’s easy for me to love baseball ahead of the others for two reasons: 1. I’d much rather play than watch, to develop my own strategy in a practical application. 2. Because I enjoy brain-forward sports.”

“That’s not surprising. No wonder Twilight likes hanging out with you so much. You match her intellect and give her a run for her money.”

“I can say the same about you. Even if you’re not as knowledgeable when it comes to sports, you still understood pretty much everything I threw at you, and you know enough to pick up what I was putting down, even if I‘m being rather roundabout. You and Twilight are probably the only ones who could do that. And I love that about your group. You girls each have specialties that I can keep up with, and likewise you with me I like to believe. You and Twilight know how I tick, Rainbow Dash is a fellow aviator, Applejack keeps my inner “escape to the country” spirit alive, Pinkie Pie reminds me to not take life too seriously, Rarity can keep up with my inner Europhile and understands the power of the flame that made our passions professions; in other words, work is always play, and Fluttershy? She has a spirit of compassion that I envy.”

“Yeah. I get that. Being best friends with the other girls gives me that same feeling. They provide a facet or aspect of my life I wouldn’t get without them otherwise. If you had met us in college, we were all inseparable. I’m prepared to say that even though Rainbow and Fluttershy were the only ones who knew each other before we all met, if we as a group were in high school, we’d be almost… exclusive.”

“I doubt that. From what I can ascertain, you welcomed almost everybody you met.”

“Yeah, but having that group in high school definitely would’ve made our college experience a lot different. While I do wish we had met earlier in our lives – that is to say, high school – from time to time, I’m glad life worked out the way it did.”

“Yeah; and I’m really glad I met you all. I owe Rarity big time.”

“Oh please. If your little “holiday romance” was any indication, you’ve repaid her.”

“Are you still sworn to secrecy on that?”

“I guess.”

“I mean, I confronted her about it. I broke her and got her to spill how she feels. She’s still flirtatious with me, especially when we text, but I know she doesn’t really mean anything outside of just being friendly.”

“Yeah, about that…“

“Sunset, is there something being withheld from me?”

“Max, Rarity…”

Embrace the Magic, of a Supercharger

“Max, Rarity had a crush on you because of your money.”

My heart drops to my stomach more out of betrayal than unrequitedness.

“Rarity was gold digging me??”

“I’m sorry Max. I know how much that trip meant to you. Both of you.”

I immediately start pacing around the room, again not because I’m jilted, but because now my gears are turning. I want to piece this puzzle together. I want answers, whether they’ll hurt or not.

“I hate to jack AJ and Pixar’s lingo, but ‘what in fucking tarnation is going on inside her head??’”

“I wish I knew.”

“Oh great. This is gonna keep me up all night thinking about it.”

“Try not to let it bother you.”

“We’re still on for the Grand Canyon tomorrow?” I say putting my hand up and shaking my head.

“Yeah. It’ll be fun.”

“Okay. Well, I think I should go. Finding out this truth about Rarity really changes what going to Europe means to me now.”

“Max, I’m sorry. I really am. If there’s anything I can do to help take your mind off of it, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Thank you Sunset, but for now, I think I just need a little time to process this. What time do you want to meet tomorrow?”

“Well, I assume we’ll need gas, so maybe 8:30?”

“That’s fine. It’ll take maybe 3 hours to get there, so 6 hours of travel time. Plus an hour or two in town?”

“Give or take.”

“Okay. Um, maybe even as late as 10:00?”

“Let’s say 9:00, so we can take our time getting gas and such.”

“9:00 it shall be. Night Sunset.”

“G’night Max.”

When I fire up the car, I turn the radio off so I can try and dissect the Rarity situation as best I can.

Rarity is far from selfish, but selfishness doesn’t always mean gold digger. I’m shaken to the core now knowing that Rarity could be capable of such motives. I still love her, but if what Sunset said is even true, it changes everything. Worse still, in an absolute worst case, I feel like my friendships with the other girls could be affected.

At the same time, I guess I should’ve seen it coming. I suppose that that would explain Rarity’s otherwise uncharacteristic displays of affection. Even for one of her normal crushes (this according to what I’ve been told, as I’m the first Rarity crush I’ve witnessed) with a level of flirtatiousness usually reserved for a more… proper infatuation.

Nevertheless, that does not explain Rarity’s own coddling when I was in hospital. Unless she put on a really good ruse, I cannot deny that Rarity wasn’t acting purely out of financial motivation. There were moments where I knew that what Rarity and I had was real.

I guess I’ll just have to sleep on that and worry about it if and only if it becomes necessary.

Next morning, I’m awake at 7:10 because after my analysis of the situation, I tired myself out and fell asleep so heavily that I got a full recharge. Nevertheless, I decide to wait on breakfast in case Sunset wants to go somewhere.

Sure enough, Sunset rolls up to my house in a Yellow C7 Corvette. If you could capture the look on my face seeing Sunset at the wheel of a Corvette, you’d ask why when you consider my garage. To that I would say “you don’t get it. Sunset Shimmer is enough of a petrolhead to own a Corvette. Color me impressed.”

“Close your mouth, you might swallow a fly.” Sunset smirks, knowing I’m very much turned on.

“No wonder you wanted to do a gauntlet run to the GC.

“So why did you get a Corvette?”

“Power. [It] was all I desired.”

“You didn’t want a ZR1?”

“That was a bit… outside my price range. Besides, I got a good deal. It was practically a steal.”

“Go figure. If price was no concern, you could’ve gone for…” I pause and point to my car.

“No way. I would never own a Demon.”

“Hellcat?”

“Not really a fan of the Challenger. Plus Twilight has one.”

“Mustang?”

“Rainbow Dash has one, and I’m not much of a fan either.”

“Viper?” I chuckle.

“I don’t know how to drive stick.”

“Would you be interested?”

“Not really. I’d never use it. I-10 traffic and all.”

“Understandable. The invitation is always open.”

“I appreciate that, thank you.”

“Did’ya eat?”

“No.”

“Waffle House?”

“Aw yeah!”

The two of us then head for a Waffle House on the route, and conveniently just down the way from a petrol station.

Going for my obligatory grits along with my usual breakfast plate, we enjoy ourselves rather nicely ahead of our little day trip. To drink I dangerously have coffee, but as the crowds start to increase perfectly in tune with our departure, I do use the bathroom before we head for our fuel stop.

I cover her fuel tab for obvious reasons before I purchase a couple bottles of water. Sunset then purchases a can of Red Bull before I give her a handheld so we can communicate.

Sunset takes the lead so she can get us out of Phoenix and onto the highway. I however utilize a radar detector to look for any speed traps. This is my first time outside of Phoenix or the journey to, so I’m definitely in unfamiliar territory.

Even though today is Sunday, the possibility of a speed trap is still definite. Considering that two best friends are both in fast cars in the desert, on a gauntlet run to the Grand Canyon? Cop bait for days.

“No more holding back, just let it all out.” Sunset calls as she floors her accelerator and starts to get away from me.

Turning up the volume on the radar detector, I follow suit and flick the down paddle, sending the engine into the max torque range and spurring on the blower that’s responsible for 2.8 Liters of the total displacement.

Whining and screaming like the car’s namesake, or that song and album by Meat Loaf, the red mist descends and mixes with T-rage that’s kicked into overdrive from chasing [the] Sunset.

Aside from the occasional semi and people carrier, I keep my foot down in the left lane. Sunset, being just far enough ahead of me, is doing all the proverbial snowploughing. All I have to do is maintain the gap.

As we navigate through the Black Canyon for which the freeway is named, Sunset slows her pace as the road starts to become a little more challenging. Eventually, I put brakes on as Sunset slows to under 80 mph for the first time since getting in the freeway.

“Yo Shimmy, everything Gucci?”

“Yeah, two trucks are playing the passing game.”

“Yay.”

“There’s also a patrol off to the side according to Waze.”

“The trucks must be helping us out then.”

“It seems that way.”

“Cool. How are you on gas?”

“Half tank.”

“Cool. We’ll top off in Flagstaff on the return, roughly.”

“Sweet.”

When we pass the trucks and get our pace back up to about 85 mph, we’re about 14 miles from Flagstaff. This is my cue to do what it is I do best and draft Sunset.

Unmoving in her pace, I decide to get further back. Any other cars on the road keep their distance, since I at least am trying to keep up the façade of “Let’s Have a Race.” Naturally, Sunset refuses to oblige me by moving into the right lane and saying, “Your turn.”

I overtake her and pick up speed and hold a new speed of about 97 mph. The ungodly cruising speed is only to get to Flagstaff so I can see if Sunset wants to eat or stretch.

“Can you make it all the way? We still have another hour or two.”

“I can keep going. I’ve got about 150 miles of range.”

“I’ve got 147.”

“Sweet.”

“Which spot are we going to?”

“South rim.”

“You’re using Waze? You should lead.”

“Okay. Get out of the way!”

I then slide over into the right lane and let her overtake again. The sound of her V8 and the oh so subtle whine of her own supercharger is intoxicating. My turn.

When my own blower whirs up and the Signature Hemi exhaust note becomes the sound of the highway, the first signage for I-40 appears.

I-17’s northern terminus is at I-40, which is a modern supplantation of Route 66. The I-17 North to I-40 West interchange is a cloverleaf, which for the sideways petrolhead – for lack of a better term, is a wide open opportunity for a drift. I don’t have Rosalina here to restrain me, and I’m pretty sure Sunset is actively trying to, and successfully has, spurred me on.

Sunset hits the brakes and takes it relatively slowly. I on the other hand, feeling a bit Down The Mine morally, bump the traction control button and hit the brakes. To my surprise, as Sunset rounds out the cloverleaf, I give a slight increase in throttle as I throw the wheel. Rubber’s squealing, and revs are increasing. I just unhooked the backend.

Increasing throttle and counterbalancing the steering, I keep the revs constant as my “angle of attack” in the turn plays against my proximity to the edge of the road. A single guardrail running parallel to the off-ramp from I-40 West closes in, to which I tighten the loop to try and keep the smoking tires in the center of the lane, trying to make a centerline with my ~~skid marks~~ tyres.

As I round out the loop, I bring the wheel back to neutral center, keeping my foot down until the tires stop smoking. Once I verify I have full grip on the car, I turn traction control back on and then give it the beans so I can catch up to Sunset.

Feeling a bit too showboat-y, I breathe deeply to calm myself back down. The radar detector shows no police in the area, but I definitely don’t wanna stick around.

Riding the engine in the neighborhood of its redline, I resume automatic shifting once I can remain a healthy distance from Sunset without needing to use excess power.

“That was a very naughty move. I saw you.” Sunset says as soon as I catch back up to her.

“Glad you were out [of the way]. I won’t do it again.”

“Please don’t. You got lucky this time. I would never forgive myself if you wiped out trying to drift like that.”

“I honestly didn’t expect it to hold like that. The Demon is built for the drag strip. If I still had a Focus RS in my garage, then I could get away with drifting, even without using drift mode.”

She doesn’t answer as we race down I-40 to the exit for the Grand Canyon, following literally every other car going our direction.

For the first time since Phoenix, my speedo drops below 20, as the traffic light off ramp is red.

For the remainder of the drive, we blend in with the flow of traffic, since there’re too many cars to pass safely; not a lot of RV’s or trailers, to my surprise. Though, if anyone did take an RV or Caravan, they should theoretically already be set up at camp.

Because of the high traffic, our slow pace allows for the mathematical average pace and travel time to catch up to us, if you take my meaning. Not that I’m bothered. At least it’s nice to know that Sunset and I, in our American supercars, are the most out-of-place on the road.

“Doesn’t it feel nice to be the fastest ones on the road.”

“Not when you can only use 50 of the several hundreds of horsepower at your disposal.”

“Yeah, but at least we can increase our MPG, and the range. Less to fill up later.”

“But it’s really cutting into our time.”

“Don’t worry about it. We have some wiggle room, so long as we get back before 19:00.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

With only an hour left until we reach the South Rim, I take the time to recover mentally from what we can basically write off as the entire gauntlet run. Most of the drive up here is I-17. Even though I was hoping we could hot brakes into the town of Grand Canyon, it’s probably a good thing we’re under an artificial speed limit (though the one on this road is 65). State police are all over the road. For good reason. According to Maps (via CarPlay), there’s a hazard in the road. The traffic color is orange. It turns to red closer to the hazard, but next to the hazard is a red sign with a car on it. Accident.

When we reach the scene, two cars, both of which appear to be very nearly totaled, are sitting aside the road next to an overturned semi. I let out a slight chuckle because despite the obvious damage to the cars, the overturned semi looks like it has no connection to the other two. A handful of police cars, a couple fire trucks, and an ambulance are on the scene, but the line of traffic heading north is agonizing.

“That could be you if you keep up your shenanigans.”

“Thanks Sunset. It’s nice to know you care.”

When we reach the town, marred by hotels, roads, and plenty of cars in the area, Sunset and I head straight for the parking lot of the south rim observation deck.

We both find spots and park right across from each other such that when we park, we both back in so we’re both facing each other.

Eager to stand for the first time in almost 4 hours, I stretch out everything, cracking both shoulders, both kneecaps, one of my ankles, and of course, my neck. I have noisy joints, so nothing even hurts, but it is fun to gross out my friends.

As Sunset and I walk to the observation deck, I stand in awe at the beauty of the phenomena of nature before me. I’ve never been before, but I’ve flown over it many times. Normally, the perspective is better from the air. Not so here. While yes, it is true that admiring such a massive spectacle would be arguably nicer to see from up above, the rationale to my reasoning is “detail.”

See, admiring such a wonder of nature from the air is nice to be able to see and admire the grandeur. At the surface level however, things are a little more… down to the “molecular” level. Admiring the different levels of rock showing the formation and creation of those layers over the millennia that the canyon have formed are at least for me quite fascinating. From the topmost layers of the newest minted rock all the way down to the basin where the Colorado River twists and turns is interesting. Though the formation was obviously very gradual over the course of many many years, the difference in layers is staggering. It looks layered rather than faded in over time, if you take my meaning. The beauty of nature.

Sunset takes a few pictures then snaps a selfie and gets me in on one too.

Getting close to Sunset puts me in an awkward position where my height over her puts me right in her hair, though I should say that’s not literal. I’m right around a foot taller than her. Nevertheless, every in-breath is strong with the smell of her shampoo. Not that it bothers me, but it pays to have a height advantage over someone like Sunset.

We take a few shots, one with and one without glasses (for my sake) before she uploads the one with specs (at my request) with the caption,

“Surround yourself with people who make you feel like the best.”

Once it uploads, I get the ‘tagged in post’ notification. I hit like, but guess who’s beat me to the punch?

“Are you two dating?!?!?!” Pinkie Pie comments.

“Oh Pinkie.” Sunset says, not obliging the comment.

*Rosalina likes a photo you’re tagged in.*

My heart stops for a brief second. I know what the photo and caption means, Sunset knows what the photo and caption means, so it shouldn’t imply anything at all. In fact, I cackle internally knowing that the one person who I would expect to bite took the bait.

“Sunset, you think that taking all this time to catch up and acting so platonic right off the bat is a sign of something?”

“I don’t think so.” She responds after a slight hesitation. “Wait, let me preface that by saying that the conversations we’ve had were rather personal from the get go, so this is, at its core, just a behavioral manifestation. I don’t think it suggests anything romantic, nor should either of us believe that’s so. You’re someone I’ve just grown really comfortable with over the time that we’ve known each other. You’re letting me be myself, and are a great sport to most of the jabs and snarks I’ve thrown at you.”

“I agree wholeheartedly. Pinkie Pie took the bait, so I am entertained. However, with the whole Rarity thing you told me about, there is still one thing on my mind.”

“Yes?” She asks with a slight blush creeping up her cheeks.

“What about Applejack?

“I know that it’s not the best time to mention it, but I bring it up mostly for rhetorical purposes, and because I think Rarity may be playing off of my feelings for AJ, since it’s no secret that those two are basically an old married couple. I guess I should say ‘as a psychologist, is it possible that Rarity’s gold-digging could be a result of some form of projection or even vying for my affection since I do have feelings for Applejack?’”

“Maybe. I’d have to see it for myself. I don’t like psychoanalyzing my friends. It makes me feel like I could undermine the friendship.”

“Yes, I can see that. Can you answer the question though? I’ll be honest…”

“Honest about what?”

“Uh, never mind. If you can answer, go ahead.”

“I don’t think Rarity gold digging has anything to do with Applejack. I know that the Apple family has been going through some financial difficulties, but that’s about all I can say on Applejack’s side. As for Rarity, she can be a hopeless romantic, which is very endearing for all of us, I can comfortably say. However, whether she likes it or not, Rarity did have feelings for you. She admitted it rather loudly before she opened the boutique, while you were in the Mushroom Kingdom. When you came back from Europe however, I think the romantic feelings disappeared and… well…”

“I can fill in the blanks. What we had was a holiday romance, if your suspicions are correct. Simple as that.”

“Max, I…”

“No, no. That’s okay. I can see you’re sorry, but don’t apologize. It’s not your fault, and in fact, thank you for shining some light on the subject. I’m honestly just surprised that I fit in your group as nicely as I did; that fling with Rarity really clinched it for me. I’m fairly certain that if I had met anybody else first, I wouldn’t have gotten to know any of you as well as I have. Even so, I can’t say I’m unhurt, but hey. Feelings change, people change. It’s… normal. Besides, even if I did act on my feelings for Applejack, or Rarity for that matter, I would just drive a stake into the relationship between the two of them. If my inclinations are true, and there’s a love triangle amongst Rarity, Applejack and I, I would kill myself. They’re best friends, I’d hate to see them fight over me.”

“I understand Max. Though I can say, if you are interested in one of us, I know some of us do reciprocate.”

“Really??”

“Yeah, we kind of tell each other everything.”

“Okay then, if that’s so, how good of a kisser did Rarity say I am?”

“You’re not the worst. Though she’s had better.”

“I see. Well, despite being married three times, it’s nice to know I’m still kind of a virgin at heart.”

“Or maybe that’s why you‘ve gotten divorced.” She laughs.

“Very funny.” I say rolling my eyes. “Rosalina’s not one to discuss her intimate life though, so you couldn’t corroborate your claim.”

She blushes and laughs semi-diabolically.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I am genuinely floored that you’re someone I can be so… personal with.“

“I like you Max. I like talking to you; and I can handle deeply personal, vulgar, explicit, raunchy, what have you. Despite most people’s conceptions, I appreciate someone who isn’t afraid to throw out an expletive. I firmly believe that people who swear have a greater command of the language than those who don’t.”

“I’ve always thought about that!” I exclaim as we head back to the parking lot. “I’ve always believed that since they’re willing to use it, generally there’s a healthy respect for explicit content and when and when not to use it.”

“Exactly. I phrase it as ‘people who don’t swear are usually afraid and as such tend to feel nervous when dealing with it.’ That as I’m sure you know has absolutely nothing to do with whether or not someone has a filter or lack thereof.”

“Yes! I know a lot of people who don’t swear and have no filter. Conversely, some people I know like keeping their mouth shut but aren’t afraid to drop an F-bomb. Myself included.”

“Yeah! Twilight can back me up on that. Though she’s an exception to the rule. She doesn’t like to swear, but isn’t afraid to say some ‘shit’ from time to time.”

“Isn’t it great to be different?”

“Isn’t it wonderful to be exactly who you are?”

“Sailor mouth is one of the ways I express myself, and most of the people I grew up with hate it. They believe that people who swear are the exact opposite. ‘If you have to resort to bad language, one has no command of the language and a limited vocabulary.’”

“Disagree, but I understand where they come from.”

“Yeah. I have a relatively conservative background.”

“I think relatively is kind of a loose meaning.”

“More or less. I’m definitely a rebel, and more liberal in some of my views.”

“Yeah. I see it. Let’s stay out of politics though.”

“Oh, I hate it too. I’m glad you can see sense and actively avoid rabbit holes.”

“You wanna head back to Phoenix or spend all night talking here?”

“We should probably head back. I don’t know about you, but I think we should continue the conversation over dinner.”

“Hungry already? It’s barely 14:00.”

“No, but I will be after driving back. Maybe I should’ve brought a plane.”

“Nah. Everyone would hate you.”

“Why, because I’m a private owner of an airliner doing his own personal tours?”

“Something along those lines.”

With that, we hop in and fire up.

“Gas in Flagstaff.” I say on the horn.

“Let’s go.”

Surprisingly, Sunset has me lead, probably so she can keep tabs on me. No matter, I don’t want to unhook the tyres again. For what I like to do on the highway, I need as much grip as I can get, and as large of a petrol tank as I can get.

Going past the accident site, most of the wreckage is cleared, but there’s a heavy wrecker from Winslow to get the semi back on its wheels.

“That looks like a scene from one of my TV series’ I watched with my flat mate, Highway Thru Hell. It’s a lot of fun for a vehicle enthusiast like me, but I figure you may not be interested.”

“Probably not.”

“It takes place in Canada. BC and now Alberta in addition. Haven’t followed it much though as of late.”

“Only you would find a series like that. You never watch TV to begin with, and the one show you scoured for was a show about what appear to be tow truck operators?”

“Yep. Call me crazy. But you knew that already.”

“Yeah.”

Onto I-40, I set a left-lane pace of 79 once again despite my radar detector showing a severe clear. Making good work of passing trucks and some caravaners heading home one day early, we meet I-17 with a targeted arrival time of 17:55, so we’ll be back at around dinner time.

When we make our fuel stop at one of the southerly petrol stations still postmarked as Flagstaff, I get another bottle of water. I-17 southbound should be easier, since most of the drive is a mad descent from about 7,000’ in Flagstaff to about 1,200’ at the terminus. I think it’ll be fun.

Never Gonna Bring Me Down

After we roll back into Phoenix, Sunset breaks formation so she can go home and says,

“Get dressed. And dress up. I want to splurge tonight.”

“Where do you have in mind?”

“Don’t ask questions. Just trust me on this.”

“Alright.”

With that, I head home and put my uniform on. Done in no more than 5 minutes, I decide to pop over to Sunset’s since I’m pretty sure she’s still getting ready.

I decide to wait in the car for a few minutes to allow her some time to get more ready so that I’m not standing at her door for too long.

After a couple of songs from my music, I then head to the front door. She has a video doorbell, so I ring it and stare into the lens.

No response after the first, so I ring it again, and shut one eye and stare into the lens as if it’s a pupil recognition scanner.

“The door’s open.” She says over the doorbell.

I then gently open the door and lock it behind me.

“Don’t come upstairs. I’m not quite ready yet.”

“You really didn’t have to dress up that much for me.”

All the response I get is a shutting of her bedroom door.

Checking to see if any additional responses showed up on our photo, I find a swarm of likes of course, along with 3 new comments.

“Awesome!!” Says a comment from who else but Rainbow Dash.

“You two look real cute together,” say Applejack.

“So nice that you’re finally together.” The last one says, from Rarity.

“Did we just ignite a frenzy?” I ask rhetorically.

For the hypothetical argument’s sake, I check the likes list.

Pinkie Pie
Me
Rosalina
Twilight Sparkle
Applejack
Fluttershy
DJ Scales ‘N Tail
Rainbow Dash
People with and without glasses in their profile pictures who I don’t recognize

Combing through the list all the way to the bottom, Rarity is not among them. Thinking nothing of it but getting a slight weird-laugh over both Rarity’s perceived reaction and me even worrying about it, I wait for Sunset to finish getting ready.

As I continue to check my feed, a weird thought goes through my head.

“If Sunset wants a steak dinner, I’m gonna crap meself.”

“Hey Max.” Sunset calls from her staircase.

“Holy...” I say but am at a complete loss for words. “Sunset, you look…”

“If I’m going to keep rendering you speechless, I should probably send you home before I discover too much about you.”

“Amazing!” I finish but trying my best to conceal my awe. There’s no way this dress could not have come from Rarity. It frames absolutely everything it needs to while still remaining within the boundaries of both good taste and modesty.

“I guess I don’t need to ask if you like it.”

“Please tell me Rarity made that.”

“Of course she did. No one else I’d be willing to go to or pay for could do as great a job as her.”

“I have no idea how she designs dresses that can do what they do to the wearer. They frame everything that needs to be but doesn’t reveal much if at all.”

“You should see some of her earlier work. She used to be all about pizazz and more “stage” style outfits, usually for performances when the seven of us girls were a band.”

“I’ve heard some stories. And while what you wore at the wedding I imagine wasn’t part of that ensemble, I have a general idea of what you’re getting at. I gotta say though, I thought today’s sunset was beautiful. Now I have two.”

“Do you want to drive or me?” She asks rolling her eyes, making no effort to hide a quickly spreading blush.

“You can. You know where we’re going.”

“Alright then.”

After she puts her shoes on, we head out in her Vette.

When Sunset joins the main road, I let the scenery roll by, since I’m letting her do all the driving and navigating. Of course, I know virtually where we are because I can orient myself to Camelback Mountain as kind of a general idea. Naturally, passing freeways and other major roads I know helps greatly, but Sunset does have her sat nav up, though it’s not programmed for anywhere.

25 minutes later, Sunset pulls in and parks at Ruth’s Chris.

“Shit.” I think to myself. “Welp, get a mop.”

To my surprise, there aren’t many people here tonight. The few that are, are mostly inside. One is outside smoking. The smell obviously does trigger some parts of my brain, even though I haven’t inhaled a cigarette firsthand since I was young.

“Hi, reservations for 2 under ‘Sunset.’”

“Perfect! You‘re all checked in, we’ll have you seated shortly.”

“Thank you.”

“I can’t believe you wanted to go to a steakhouse for dinner.”

“Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’ve been itching to do the “red wine and steak” thing.” She says as she slyly tries to force her keys into my hand.

“Damnit. Now I can’t drink.”

“Sorry. Gotta take one for the team.”

“Eh, well? I’m usually the designated driver anyway. No exception here.”

“Thanks. You’re the best.”

“Don’t stroke my ego. It inflates worse than Rainbow Dash’s.”

“That’s not possible.”

“But it is, just not in a loud, boisterous way.”

“Fair enough.”

Soon, we get seated, and by golly, do we get a whole room to ourselves, complete with tinted windows, dim lighting, and a bottle of some kind of red wine waiting at the table, just waiting to be uncorked.

“You have a favorite red wine but have never wined and dined before?”

“No. I haven’t had a steak with red wine. Wine-tasting though is one of my hobbies.”

“Ah. You have had steak before right?”

“Carne asada, sure. But not a steakhouse steak dinner.”

“Well then, you’ll be in for a treat.”

I decide to splurge and order two rounds of sparkling water while Sunset settles for still ice water.

“I think Rarity left an influence on you.”

“She didn’t. I always had an appreciation for things generally accepted in Europe but not necessarily in America. Rarity just delimited those inhibitions.”

“Hey, I’m not judging.”

“No, but she may be judging us.” I say in reference to our picture at the Grand Canyon.

“I’m not bothered. It’s just Rarity being Rarity.”

“Fair point. I know she likes being dramatic. It is as you said rather endearing. Besides, you and I both know what the picture means, in spite of other reactions.”

“Yeah, about that. Look Max, I know we’ve been pretty intimate especially in our banter and such, but I can tell you’re interested in me. I’m honestly flattered, but I don’t think that’s the best thing for us. I’m a bit of a workaholic, and throwing in the obligations of a relationship would be too much.”

“Of course I’m interested in you. You’re an awesome friend, one who is willing to put up with a lot of my shit, and bullshit. The fact that you aren’t visibly agitated shows either how much you can tolerate me or how much discipline and restraint you have as a person. You know what you like, you know what you want. I admire that about you. Yes, you are a very attractive person, both inside and out, I cannot deny that. I’m appreciating your beauty, which by what you seem to imply, makes you uncomfortable. For that I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no need to apologize. I understand. You wouldn’t be the first. Your little tics I will admit are interesting for me to pattern out subconsciously. And I do have to admit, seeing someone of your caliber willingly “expose” themselves without fear of retribution is kind of cute. I enjoy people who are emotionally vulnerable, because to me, that shows you’re being true to yourself and sometimes those around you. I think you know what I mean when I say that I have a low tolerance/threshold for sugarcoating.”

“I do. You know how much of a trigger the revelation of being lied to is. ‘Tis a fate worse than a jilted lover, because in a way, there is an element of “jilted lover” involved.”

“I won’t argue, though lab work might dispute that claim. Nevertheless, I know the feeling. And, since I know it has been mentioned, I think that may explain your attraction to Applejack.”

“She’s the most honest person I know. She hasn’t lied to me once. Forgive me if I’m discrediting the rest of you, I for some reason, when it comes to honesty, have made Applejack an exemplar model.”

“I mean, she is. Her Equestrian counterpart bears the element of Honesty.“

“If I did find out she was lying to me, I’d be more than heartbroken. But I don’t want to talk about the others. I’m here with you so the two of us can get closer as friends.”

“I’d say that you accomplished just that.”

“At the risk of crossing the line, can I just say that we may well be another old married couple, since we’re both pretty open with each other. I know that Applejack, honest as she is, didn’t seem willing to be that with me, but I understand she has her reservations, since I literally professed my love for her.”

“Well, to be fair to AJ, she doesn’t wear her heart on her sleeve like you do. I know she’s always felt a need to actively avoid that part of her life, yet she’s also made it clear that she does want to get married one day, for the sake of the farm.”

“That’s what Mac and Bloom also said. And I don’t blame AJ for being emotionally “unavailable.” She went through a lot of childhood trauma from a very young age. I’m desensitized in a lot of respects too, albeit for a different set of reasons, but I understand where she comes from because in a cosmic sort of way, I’m the same way.”

“Yeah, but we all knew that. No one else I know would have that dark a sense of humor without some connections to some sort of major ordeal. And your family abandoning you is no small feat.”

“Well, no better way to cope with fear of abandonment, rejection, and commitment issues than dark humor. Even if it’s so abrasive, it makes everyone around me mad for sounding overtly morbid.”

“Just one of your many defense mechanisms.”

“It does come in handy from time to time.”

“Your jokes for example.”

“Hey, I tell jokes when I’m nervous, and I’m always telling jokes.”

Sunset can’t help but laugh at that one. Worked with Pinkie, though she felt more pitying than entertained.

“That’s a good one.”

Soon after, our waitress returns, and just telling her what I want makes me salivate to the point where I poke fun at doing it. My usual steak order is a bone-in ribeye, rare, so it’s soft but not too tough, and in case it gets overcooked, I can be fine with a medium rare or medium. Sunset opts for the bone-in filet at the recommendation of both our waitress and me, since she wants a leaner cut of meat but still wants lots of flavor.

“You really that hungry?” She asks after we place the order.

“To a fault. I haven’t had a steak dinner in forever. You would think someone like me would do it every night, since I obviously have the money to eat like this three times a day every day of the year, but believe it or not, I haven’t had a dinner like this since Manhattan.”

“What say we get dessert at Culver’s again?”

“I’m game. Their cyclical and daily flavor rotations basically guarantee a different experience every time, and at each location.”

“That’s the fun of it.”

I use the bathroom and return mere seconds before the food arrives.

I cut in to my steak, just the way I like it, and give my stamp of approval. Sunset likewise affirms her order and we dig in.

As Sunset chips away at the wine bottle, I monitor the bottle’s level, so that I can make sure she can still cooperate with me. I really don’t want to have to deal with drunk Sunset, on the off chance that something bad happens.

I get halfway through my own steak as Sunset crosses through the approximate halfway point on the bottle. Now I have to keep an eye on her.

Fortunately, Sunset, despite herself and the slightest hint of hazy vision and glazed over eyes, she calls it quits and asks for the check.

I immediately take it, since the waitress luckily gave it to me, and Sunset gets agitated.

“Nooooo! Let me take care of it!” She pouts.

“You can take care of Culver’s.”

“But I want to pay for this one…!” Sunset whines.

“No buts about it. Steak dinners are always my treat.”

“Fine.” She concedes.

After I pay the bill with a tip of about 25% to account for the private room, we make our way out. Now that Sunset’s a little more uninhibited, I have to be careful more than I usually am, because one wrong move could lead to trouble. I mean, she drank half a bottle of wine on her own. That really isn’t much in the grand scheme of things, but for someone like Sunset, to even my surprise, she’s quite the lightweight. This coming from the person who has Asian flush and was raised in and grew up surrounded by prohibitionists.

Nevertheless, I readjust the seat then do a quick check of nearby Culver’s to see what the daily flavor is. One of my favorite flavors is at one of the locations at the outer edge of the search radius, but not an unreasonable distance away. So, with a sobering reminder that I have an inebriated date (never mind the air quotes, this is a weekend date) and am driving her car, I head for the Culver’s just as Sunset dozes off.

After a quiet ride across town, I park right in front of the doors and wake Sunset up by grabbing her hand. She giggles and gives me these eyes that can only come from someone in her position.

“Let’s get some dessert, then get you home and into bed. You’ve had a long day.”

She follows me in without a response, so I take my time and order when she knows what she wants. She tells me before she heads to the bathroom. I place the order and make sure Sunset’s okay. Fortunately, she comes out soon after the person behind me places his order, the smell of alcohol only now apparent when I get close enough.

I receive our order in a bag and decide to take a few bites of mine while Sunset mildly struggles to put her belt on. Once the chime is silenced, I put her in reverse and head back to Sunset’s.

I roll gently into the garage before Sunset is woken up by the sound and slight tremble of the engine shutting off.

“Okay, Sunset.” I say as she tries to open the door to the house. “It’s locked.”

“I knew that.” She semi-slurs out.

“Are you gonna eat right now?”

“Yeah(?)”

“Alright. I’m not gonna leave until I know you’re good for tonight.”

She doesn’t respond but instead digs in to her third Culver’s of the trip. Of course, I keep my distance for my own sake as I eat my own, making sure Sunset is both eating and not passing out.

I finish my dessert and gather my trash, but Sunset is eating a bit more slowly.

“You look cute with a dairy mustache.” She giggles.

“Do I? I’m not a fan of facial hair.” I say as I wipe my mouth.

She only giggles and attempts to appear seductive by licking her next spoonful of custard in a rather funny way; nothing unusual, just licking the spoon not once taking her eyes off me.

I avoid obliging her by smiling in return.

When she finishes, with maybe one or two bites left, I “return” her previous action.

“You have two bites left, one if you really try. Just finish it.”

“But I don’t wanna!!” She whines.

“Young lady, you are finishing this tiny portion whether you want to or not.”

Unamused, she crosses her arms and scrunches her face.

“Don’t try that on me.”

“Fine. Feed me.” She says indignantly.

Summoning all the courage and gall to act like a parent again, I gather the last of the Culver’s into one last spoonful and make sure it doesn’t drip.

Sunset then looks into my eyes, a mild glaze now clearly over them. God, she looks like she can be taken advantage of so easily, but I’m not about that life. And I’m pretty sure Sunset’s just toying with me. Not that I mind. Bantering with her, especially at such a personal level, is a lot of fun. A relationship between two people of the opposite sex does not require sex to be intimate.

Nevertheless, when I present her the spoon, she gives the most jarring look, one that Rarity has attempted to use on me before. The term I and some others may agree on, is “weaponized guilt.” I can’t help but smile at it, because while it appears cute, I find it funny mostly because I can tell she’s playing with me, so once I get her to open her mouth, she takes the Culver’s and giggles as she relishes the chance to literally be spoon fed.

When she finishes the last bite, I throw the trash away and take out her near-overflowing kitchen trash bag. When I return, Sunset is standing right next to the kitchen sink. As I wash my hands, it hits me.

“There’s no way Sunset can actually be drunk.” I think to myself. “But I’ll humor her.

“Hey, Sunset?” I call as I return to the kitchen.

She looks at me with obviously-feigned innocence.

“It’s your bedtime. Do you want me to carry you?”

“Yes please.” She says as she opens her arms childishly.

“Okay, hop on my back.”

Feeling nervous because I’m crossing my own boundaries, Sunset climbs on and hangs on like a monkey, giggling as I shimmy her up so I can support her legs with my arms. Once I know she’s secure, I trek up the stairs and find her bedroom.

Turning the lights on is a bit of a chore, because her switches are farther from her entry door than I’m used to. After fooling with all three switches, I get her main lights on, and I gently set her down in her bed.

After she sprawls out, I make sure she’s okay and make my way out.

“Don’t leave me.” She calls right before I sneak out,

“You can drop the act then. I know you’re not drunk.”

“What gave it away?” She says with a pout.

“Even if you’re a lightweight, half a bottle isn’t enough to knock you down.”

“Fine,” she then sighs, “you win. Stay with me tonight though, please? I kind of…wanna cuddle with you.”

“Alright. Let me pack up from my place.”

“Hurry back.” She smirks.

When I return to Sunset’s, she points me in the direction of an open bathroom so I can brush my teeth. Once ready for bed, I change into my sleepers and pull her comforter down so she can climb into bed. In spite of this, I wait for Sunset to get warm and comfortable underneath.

“What are you waiting for? You pulled the comforter.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to mess up the neatness of the bed.”

“I think Rarity’s rubbing off on you.”

“I’m not so sure about that. I’m still pretty crass.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just get in here and hold me.”

After I inch my way under her covers, I slowly place my arm over her and make sure she’s not on the other so it doesn’t cut off circulation. Once I have her in my grasp, she puts her hands on top of mine and snuggles up to me, much inclined to take advantage of a secondary heat source under her blanket.

“Thanks for letting me do this.” I whisper into her ear as I brush a couple strands of hair out of my face.

“No need to thank me. Like I said, we’re just making up for lost time. Besides, you deserve it.”

“Deserve it? All we did was hang out. I’m not someone who exploits my friends for favors.”

“No, but you came here so we could hang out. I was willing to go to you, but you decided to come here.”

“Well, Waffle House, Lou Malnati’s, and Culver’s are a few reasons to come. Then there’s you.” I say as I get a little too into it and nuzzle myself behind her, getting a nice sniff of her hair in the process.

She giggles but shortly after wriggles her way free, grumbling “Sorry, gotta pee.”

As soon as she runs to the bathroom, I sit up against the headboard and play games on my phone to pass the time.

She returns after a few minutes and hesitantly climbs back in.

“If it’s that bad, I can go.”

“Sorry Max. I think I just started my period.”

“Oh.” I say as I get out from under her covers. “Should I just go then? I’m not bothered if you do.”

“Yeah, I think that’s best.”

“No problem. I just need to use the bathroom and brush my teeth.”

“Go for it.” She says pointing to the master. “I’m really sorry I have to send you away like this.”

“I understand. If anything, I should give you your space.”

“I appreciate that.”

After I wash my mouth and find the cheapest petrol station on I-10, I cautiously ask for a hug, but Sunset understandably declines on account of abdominal pain. Cramps.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Don’t even trip. Maybe next time we can actually cuddle, for reals.”

She smiles weakly as I grab the last of my things. She then follows me to her front door as I remote start the car so the engine can warm up.

“Well Sunset,” I say as I step outside. “I had a lot of fun. I’m glad we’re such close platonic friends.”

“So am I. Hopefully we can do it again sometime.”

“I’d love that. Good night, Sunset.”

“Safe drive, Max.”

Author's Note

One of my shorter stories, but it’s tough to cover a long weekend in more than 18,000 words.

Dedicated to my old flatmate, whose girlfriend is a Phoenician. Their first date occurred when I started writing this! Sometimes the stars do align.