Bette blushed hotly, “Thanks.”

            “I told you it was boring,” added Jo, pointing to the building, changing the subject fluently.  Reaching out and changing the channel to the Hits 1 channel of Sirius. 

            “Not that boring,” said Bette, looking at Jo closely.  “You wear contacts?”

            “Umm…,” said Jo slowly.  “Yeah, but not for corrective reasons.”

            “Then what reason?”  said Bette, thinking that it was odd to wear contact lenses if you didn’t need them.

            “Promise not to freak out, I don’t know why I’m telling you this at all….”

            “I swear,” said Bette, holding her hand up in the air.  “Have a bible?” added Bette, feeling giddy, sure that it was all the sugar she’d consumed in the last three hours.  The floorboards of the car was littered with empty bottles and candy wrappers. 

            “I have a genetic quark,”  a pause from the tomboy,  “I have amber eyes,” answered Jo.  She reached up, her fingers playing with her eyes, and flicking out the contacts.  She had a bevy of spares in the dash of the car, occupational hazard.  Blinking, adjusting her night vision and looking over to Bette, who gasped.

            “Oh my god, they glow…  is that normal?”

            “For me it is,” shrugged Jo, swearing to herself to not get to honest with Bette, she didn’t want to scare her off.  “Hence the reason I wear contacts.  Most people are unnerved by it.”

            Bette said nothing, seeing that Jo was vulnerable for a moment, reaching across what seemed like the vast expanse of the car and touching her cheek.  Jo looked up at her, a smile playing on her lips, Bette leaned in, kissing her lips softly.  “They don’t bother me,” whispered Bette.  Kissing Jo again, her tongue pressing against Jo’s lips, parting them easily as Jo leaned in closer to Bette.

            Suddenly, something crashed hard into the windshield, spraying glass into the car, Bette screaming at the abrupt sound.  Jo jumping out of the car, swinging the door out so hard that it broke one of the hinges.  Controlling her anger, jaw set.

            A man was standing at the front of the car, brandishing a golf club, “Who are you and why the fuck are you sitting out here!” He yelled at them.