I’d looked at a dozen houses in two days. Moving 2,000 miles from home and family was one scary leap for me. But my new position at the nearby college meant more opportunities for me as an artist and possibly tenure. So I climbed the shaky ladder steps to check out the finished attic and found windows on both sides, plus a door leading to a tiny deck at one end. I couldn’t have designed a better artist’s loft. Of course, I hadn’t checked to see if the stove worked or if the backyard had gopher holes, but, with my first priority met, I started feeling better about this leap. And a little over heated. Back home, the first of May meant 60 degrees, not 78. I tried the door to the deck; it opened easily and I stepped out into the cool shade of the trees.

Someone was laughing. A rich, happy laugh that made you want to join in, even if you didn’t know the joke. I peered through the branches, down into the neighboring yard and saw…

“Wowza!” I breathed. He was beautiful. White blond hair, longer than most men his age wore it back home, a face that Michelangelo could have sculpted, and, as he threw back his head to laugh again, I caught a glimpse of strong white teeth. I needed to draw him. I had to draw him. I could feel the pencil in my hand, shaping the way his hair almost curled against his shoulders and defining those tawny back muscles.

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Author’s Note: This is something that popped into my mind after reading Duluthgirl’s Riding the Express. I started to think: what if it was Hutch who ran away instead of Starsky on the morning after their first time together? This story is in Hutch’s POV, but NOT of the same events that took place in Duluth’s story. The events and circumstances are different… yet similar in how it unwinds.

Many Thanks to Dawn for beta reading. All mistakes are mine.

You know the Great American Revolution?

I don’t mean the 1775 War of Independence. I’m talking about the one at Six Flags Magic Mountain. The thing that’s 125 feet tall, 3457 feet long. Yes! That one–the first 360-degree coaster that speeds up to 55 miles per hour.

And, No! I have never gone on that. What do you take me for, an idiot?

I’ve never ridden on any of those wheels of terror. I’ve only been a spectator, clinging to a side fence, watching the train spin, rotate, and speed through the loop with my curly-haired daredevil of a partner on board. He’s the one who rode the roller coaster, and I was the one who ended up puking my guts out. But… I wish I had taken that ride, because that would’ve prepared me for the real thing Starsky took me on last night.

I’ve seen Starsky in everything you can imagine. My favorite is his red shirt. No, I think it’s the white one. Wait… it’s that dark blue tee that matches his eyes or the yellow one. Well… I like that blue and red plaid shirt, as well. Anyhow, whatever the shirt is, he’s used to having it unbuttoned from top to bottom, displaying all that glorious hair.

I meant what’s on his chest! You gals have been reading too much fanfiction.

It’s pure torture for me when we are at the precinct because I can’t even do much staring without getting caught by others in the squadroom.

The locker room, on the other hand, is fair game, and I’m sure he leaves his fly half-done to show-off the thick dark line of hair that starts at his navel, runs across his lower belly, and arrows down to the waistband of his pants.

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Hutch stood in the doorway of Starsky’s hospital room, watching his partner sleep. It seemed almost indulgent to have such a luxury of time. The last ten days had been intense, too horrible to relive, even in memory. But that was past. The outlook, while not rosy, was at least hopeful. Starsky had gotten through the worst.

He walked in and gently stroked Starsky’s pale, whiskery cheek.

Two blue eyes blinked, lighting up when Starsky saw who had wakened him. “Hey,” he whispered. That was about as loud as he could manage most days.

“Hay is for horses,” Hutch replied with mock sternness. The way Starsky immediately responded to his touch put a lump in his throat. He had to swallow once to speak. “I talked to your mom and mine earlier. They’ll both be here this afternoon; their planes are less than an hour apart.”

Starsky smiled drowsily and brushed his fingers over Hutch’s wrist. “You pickin’ them up?”

“Of course. Taxis aren’t good enough for our moms.” Hutch chuckled, pulling the blanket up higher on Starsky’s bandaged chest.

“Ren’ a car,” Starsky said on an outward breath. “Your’s’s junk…”

“Hey!” Hutch pretended to be offended. He’d had his newish pale blue Ford for three weeks, but it had been on the road quite a few years longer than that. “Insult my car, insult me.”

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You ever go on one of those carnival rides where you stumble off with a big smile on your face even though you feel like you’re about to throw up? As you walk away, you look at how the world’s spinning and wonder if maybe you’re actually on some really wild acid trip?

Well, you oughta try climbing aboard the Hutchinson Express. And I am not just talking to you Hutch girls, either. Last night, that dude had me going loopty-loop and upside down. I’d had a few beers, okay, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I guess it wasn’t his fault he was wearing his I-need-my-partner eyes and those jeans that make his legs look longer than a stretch limousine. How was he supposed to know that I’d take notice? How was I?

I mean, I’ve seen Hutch dressed in everything from a penguin suit to his birthday suit. Never pictured him wearing me before. I don’t know how it happened, but when it did…man, there ain’t no going back after you’ve put your mouth in certain places, you know?

Anyway, he was still asleep when I left this morning.

What? You wanna know why I split? How about if Hutch wakes up with me slobbering all over his pillow, he’s liable to derail? He’d had his share of alcohol, too, last night. If I’m not there when he comes to, he might not remember shoving me up against the wall, licking my tonsils, pinning me to the mattress, or wrapping my legs round his waist. Maybe he’ll forget when I covered his mouth with my hand because he’s so loud. Yeah…so loud.

Oh, that’s terrific. Now my lower-half is missing my better-half.

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