"That would be perfect if we still didn't have these left over pieces," Quinton said, opening his hand to showcase a variety of metal bolts.

I rolled out from under the car and picked up my shirt from the driveway, wiping the material against my forehead before placing it over my bare shoulder. For Christmas, Beth and Dad had combined resources and had scored me a second-hand car. 

The coat was still in perfect condition, had a great set of wheels and a pretty impressive interior. The only catch was that it wouldn't start up. But I was determined that Quinton and I could fix it without having to get ripped off by a mechanic.

I groaned in frustration, walked over to the hood of the vehicle and stared down at the intricate arrangement of parts. I was familiar with the basic anatomy of a car, but I never thought an in-depth study was necessary. And I was starting to regret not taking the car manufacturing course provided at school. 

As I stared at the car with unfocused vision, a small laugh escaped from Flo's lips. She was sitting in the shaded part of our driveway, cross legged and engrossed in a book. Her lips twitched up into a smile as she let out a small round of laughter. I couldn't help but smile.

Quinton nudged my side. "Dude, you got it bad."

As soon as the words were spoken, Tess walked out of the house, shoulders hunched over a tub of yoghurt. Quinton instantly straightened and slowly stretched, hoping his lack of covered torso would manage to capture her attention.

"Speak for yourself," I muttered. Quinton shoot me a glare before returning to his 'casual' stance.

Tess seemed unfazed though and walked right past him. "Hey, muscles, mind driving me to work?"

I shook my head, giving her an apologetic smile. "Wish I could, but my car is being an asshole. Won't start up."

Walking around her and poking my head through the open window, I reached in and turned the key. It wheezed pathetically, emphasising my point. Because my car had been baking out in the sun, the metal exterior acted as a conductor of heat, cranking up the interior temperature to a burning degree. So when I removed my head, a new layer of sweat had formed on my forehead.

"Hey, I have muscles too," Quinton said, having no shame in flexing for her. A playful smirk crossed his lips as Tess looked away a little too quickly, her eye roll only half hearted. "Where's your car anyways? You're more of a driver than a passenger."

"I know," she answered. "But part of my Christmas present was getting my car a new paint job, so it's down at Richard's mate's place. Holden, maybe you can ring him up and see if he can check out your car."

"Sounds pretty good at the moment," I answered.

"Get Richard to call him in the morning," Tess said before scooping up some yoghurt into her mouth. "He took Mum into the city for the Boxing Day sales and God-knows when they'll be back. In the meantime, can someone please give me a lift to work?"

Quinton leapt up at the opportunity. "Let me get my keys from inside."

"And a shirt!" Tess called after him as he jogged into the house.

"You know you can't resist my abdomen!" he shouted back.

Instead of Tess retorting a smart and snarky comment or rolling her eyes, she smiled; the kind of smile that Quinton would have killed to see. Looking up from her yoghurt, she caught my stare and pulled a face at me as if to conceal the secret smile she pulled by accident. Rather than tormenting her about it, I returned the expression just as Quinton came out.

"Let's go," he said, heading towards his ute and opening it for her before getting into the driver's side.

As soon as they pulled away from the curb, I turned to Flo, who hardly seemed aware of her surroundings as she flipped through the pages of her novel without looking up. Her eyes rapidly scanned through the words, absorbing every sentence.

"Must be a good book," I said.

She looked up for the briefest moment; frowning at me as if forgetting that I was there and then smiled. "It is."

"Was it a gift?" I asked.

She shook her head. "There's an old bookstore in town that sells second hand novels. I just picked this up because of the quirky title. It's actually quite entertaining."

That was another place in town that I didn't know about.

Flo's fingers gently creased the edge of the page she was reading before closing the paperback and squinting past the sun to look at me properly. For a brief second, her lips twitched into a smile before her attention was directed behind me and at the vacant space where Quinton's car was.

"Where'd everyone go?" she asked, standing up and brushing the dust from her legs.

"Quinton's dropping Tess off at work," I answered. "Knowing him though, he'll probably order five glasses of fizzy just to hang around and see if anyone gives her trouble."

"He's a really good friend."

"I think he wants to be more than friends," I muttered.

Flo raised an eyebrow.

"Like a boyfriend," I explained. Then frowned. "Tess' boyfriend. Not my boyfriend." When she didn't answer, I kept babbling. "I mean, I guess that would be pretty flattering. I think. Am I speaking out loud? I feel like I'm talking really loud. I should really have an off switch. But back to the point: I have my eyes set on someone."

The corner of Flo's lips twitched into a half smile.

"Anyways, since they're going to be gone all day," I said, awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck, "would you like to hang out or something?"

She glowed. "I'd love to."

After a fifteen minute walk, we reached the heart of town. Only a selection of the stores were open to residents—mostly the large retailers with their Boxing Day sales—but the community was still alive and buzzing, customers flooding the streets. A couple of teenagers sat outside the automatic doors, busking for a couple extra dollars and every time Flo saw one, she'd pull out a dollar and toss the coin into their instrument cases.

But what really caught her attention was the young woman sitting towards the side of the store, silently advertising examples of her face-painting skills. Flo took my hand in hers and quickly dragged us over towards the woman who smiled at us warmly, paintbrush sitting between her poised fingers.

"Interested, love?" she asked.

"Intrigued," Flo answered. "How much?"

"You're the first customers of the day. I'll do them for free, as long as you stay around town for a couple of hours and help me market my business. You can be my walking promotions."

Flo sat on the rickety stool and nodded in agreement. Then she closed her eyes and waited for the woman to do her magic. She didn't have to ask what she wanted done. Instead, the woman –whose name we later found out to be Dianne—seemed to have everything under control.

I tried not to fidget while I waited for Dianne to finish. And although she didn't even take long, time seemed to stretch into an eternity of endless seconds, ticking by with no interesting occurrences. When she finally finished though, she leaned back and admired her work on her flesh canvas.

"All done, sweetheart," she announced, wiping her hands on her apron.

As soon as I heard Dianne speak, I sprang back to life, getting ready to leave. But when Flo stood and looked at me, it was as if my limbs had forgotten how to move because I was so mesmerised by the artwork that complimented her features. 

A detailed design of swirls traced from her cheeks to across her forehead, the silvery paint flattering her pale complexion. Rhinestones had been placed on particular places of her face and when her head was tilted in a particular manner, it caught the sunlight and allowed her to glow, emphasising the darkness of her curls.

I gulped. "You--"

"Your turn," Dianne said, snapping me out of my haze and taking me by the shoulders to steer me towards the stool.

"Wait, what?" I asked, suddenly aware of what was happening. "No, I didn't really want--"

But she already had her fine tipped brush out and was outlining the left side of my face. The cool, wet bristles tickled my cheeks and I had to clench my fists to avoid laughing. At first, it was a soft and slightly wet sensation, but when the paint started to dry, it felt like my face was hardening.

Is this what Botox felt like?

The particular thought circulated my mind until Dianne announced that it was over, placing her brush back down onto her desk. It was a slight struggle to open my left eye after my lid had been painted, but once I had overcome the stiffness, I saw Flo grinning at me.

"Fire and ice," she commented.

I didn't understand what she meant until Dianne picked up a small mirror and held it up to my face so I could examine. The whole left side of my face was painted in warm colours, drawn into flames of fire; angry and passionate that demanded attention. To emphasise the raging tongues, a dusting of gold was dusted through my dark hair.

Together, Flo and I were fire and ice.

When I turned to thank Dianne, she was already occupied again. A customer had stepped up and she was already working her artistic abilities. But for one brief second, she looked up and we had a single second of eye contact. It was enough time for a smile of gratitude.

Then, Flo took my hand and we were off again, running down the streets, past busy parents and complaining children. We didn't pause for a single breath until we reached a stoplight; the red man flashing on the other side of the road accompanied by the steady heartbeat that instructed us to stay put.

"Hey, remember that time at True North when you asked me to describe myself in one word?" Flo said out of nowhere, tilting her head up at me.

"What about it?" I asked.

"What's one word you would use to describe me?" she asked.

Before I had time to answer, the red man switched to green and the quickened pace of the alarm signalled for all people to start moving. Together, Flo and I stepped onto the road and started crossing, but when we reached the small island half way between one side and the other, I gently took her in my arms, leaned down, and before I could think, I sucked up all the courage I could muster and kissed her for the first time—not because of a stupid café challenge, not because I pressured into it.

But simply because I wanted to.

It was a soft, gentle and barely lasted a second but her lips tasted like summer. They burned against mine like fire and numbed them like ice all in the one brief moment they were in contact. The rebelliousness of the kiss and its circumstances stirred within me, a rush of adrenaline consuming me. In that moment, my mind flickered back to her question and the only way I could answer it was saying the one word that summed up the sensation in my stomach in that exact moment.

"Timeless," I muttered.