was listening to dont go queendom while writing th

You know she never announces her good ideas, so when she does, you're in for a really brilliant one.

"We can rent bikes."

"You're drunk."

"You can rent a bike."

"I'm drunk."

"Oh please."

She laughs it off, slamming her mug down with loud thud, "Come on, it'll be fun."

"Is it a risk you really wanna take?"

And you know how wrong a question it is, right in the moment your brain sends it down to your mouth but before it makes its way past your lips.

"Uh, yeah? Come on!" She tugs on your sleeve, making you spill of the little beer you have left.

Oh well. It's her, anyway.

~~

Surprisingly, your head is much clearer. It must be the crisp night air, or the way the frogs’ croaks bubble up from somewhere along the river bank, or how the moon hits your eyes like a big pizza pie like that one song goes. You can practically feel the alcohol processing in your liver, and your feet slow to a gentle prance on the pedals as she tightens her arms’ grip around your waist.

Her cheek is warm against your back. Her legs swing idly off the right side, along with the sways and bumps the bike comes across on the dirt path. You can even hear the little sniffles that she does when she’s fighting back a cold. Get her home soon, okay?

Above it all you feel her nodding off. At the same time, the sky is bright and blazing with stars and planets sprinkled across the inky blackness of space. The air is more perfect than a hundred air conditioners could ever make it. You aren’t the vocalist between you and her, and nobody’s ever heard of a lullaby rap before.

So settle for this. She’s happy, you’re happy, the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie. It would’ve gone so well with the beer from earlier, but—

Oh, that’s what she meant. Huh. It really was a brilliant idea.