Much to my dismay, the moment seemed to be lost when I woke up. My body had calmed down - and dried up - considerably. Samantha seemed to take my subroutine crash to be a personal failure on her part. “I should not have done that,” she kept muttering. 

Nothing I said seemed to alleviate her guilt, and truthfully, I didn’t know if it was something we should have been doing or not. Back when I was new, vehicles of all sorts were taken on chaperoned road trips on the highway, with many other metallic beings around, before we were ever allowed to drive alone on the backroads together. For all I knew, the two of us in my car on a date might have been terribly forward. 

So we sat in my car, each silently trying to figure out what to say.

As a firetruck, I knew all there was to know about silence - I’d never had a voice at all. My entire day was spent sitting silently in my berth, waiting for a fire that we all hoped would never come. But this was the first time that I’d ever experienced an awkward silence. The longer it went on, the harder it was to say something. The harder it became to say something, the worse every possible option sounded. 

“I…” I started to say. Samantha looked up at me hopefully, and I trailed off. She looked away again.

“Look,” she said, and I felt my heart lift. Then she froze, and everything shattered again.

If there is a Great Scrapheap above, I thought, then this is surely the Demolition Derby below. What a mess. Say something, please. Anything.

“Can we start over?” I asked quickly.

“Let’s get drunk,” Samantha blurted out at the same time.

We looked at each other. “Start over getting drunk?” I offered.

“Please,” Samantha said. “I need to get my nerves settled. Alcohol it is.”

I smiled smugly. I’d been drinking high-octane ethanol my entire life. Watered-down alcohol was going to be a cinch.

 Samantha beckoned me to turn off the car and follow her back into her apartment to “pregame,” whatever that meant. “We can get an uber or order some food in if you want,” she said, her happy chatter returning to normal. I wasn’t sure why she’d been so shaken by what happened in the car, but I was relieved that my bubbly friend was back. We could take things slower, find the human equivalent of a caperoned drive. I wouldn’t push her into fulfilling my dreams. We worked at the same job, and were clearly close friends. I had all the time in the world to get to know her. Rushing into something now simply because my body wanted it would be a mistake, as surely as it would have been to red-line a new engine before it was safely tested.

This zen-like self-assurance lasted until I tasted my first sip of liquor.

My eyebrows shot up in surprise, and I took a sip, then another. It was unexpectedly delightful, comforting and clearly reminiscent of high-quality gasoline. It felt like home, taking me back to a firehouse full of men and dogs and children in a land far away from here. 

“Great Toledo,” I muttered, setting my empty glass down. “That is wonderful.”

Samantha giggled, refilling my glass. “You put that away quickly. I guess I’m not surprised that you know how to handle yourself.”

“Oh, Samantha. I’ve been doing this for years,” I laughed, completely truthful. The drink left me feeling warm and happy inside, pistons firing with immaculate precision. I took another sip, then downed my second glass - then a third.

“Still, you should be careful,” Samantha said, watching me carefully. “You don’t want to get sick.”

“Sick,” I said, the word suddenly sounding silly. “I’ve never been sick in my life.” The room seemed to sway a little, but I thought nothing of it. My head suddenly felt warm and oddly full. I smiled at Samantha as the worries I’d had in the car seemed to vanish. I offered my glass for her to refill, then staggered slightly as my hand slipped off the counter. 

“I think we should wait,” Samantha said slowly, eyes intent on my face. “I’m not sure you’re-”

"I dreamed about you. You’re so beautiful,” I blurted out, meeting her eyes. I couldn’t think of any reason why I shouldn’t tell her.

Samantha’s eyes widened, but her smile actually disappeared. She shook her head, then took my glass from me. "Red," she said, her voice soft. "I’ve never wanted anyone more, but not like this. It wouldn’t mean anything."

I frowned, my mind struggling to process her words. They seemed to echo around my brain, bouncing off walls and refusing to settle. Why wouldn’t it mean something? Didn’t she want what I wanted? "I know what I want," I protested, the words stubbornly making their way past my lips.

Samantha took my hand and held it tightly. “Tell me that when you’re sober,” she said seriously. 

My brows knitted in frustration. My thoughts were jumbled, and the world was spinning. Was I not doing something right? She wasn’t understanding me, or I wasn’t saying it properly. 

Kiss her, a bold part of me declared.

I couldn't think of a reason why I shouldn’t. In fact, the more I stared at her lips, the more I wanted to. I felt the warmth again, rising up within me. Felt the urgent need deep within my core. Felt the wet reaction between my legs that seemed to happen only around Samantha.

“Sam,” I said, gripping her hand tightly as I took a step towards her. It was far more difficult than I had expected. I was so warm all over. 

“Red,” Samantha said, reaching out and grabbing my shoulder with her other hand. “You should probably sit down- hey!”

My hand slipped from the counter and I stumbled face first into her chest. Samantha yelped as our momentum carried both of us to the floor, with me on top of her. Her chest felt very soft against my cheek. I tilted my head up, room spinning faster and faster around me, and looked at her two faces as the swell of her four breasts filled my vision.

”I think that alcohol is not the same as ethanol,” I muttered.

Samantha sighed. “This is not how I pictured this moment.”