I am fiddling with my hair in the rearview as the tank slowly fills. The wispies on the back of my neck begin to stand at attention. Teeny baby hairs that alert us to danger, lust, excitement. I turn to the left. His passenger door is open, and I watch as his mouth slowly spreads into a grin.
It wasn't lascivious, or lecherous, but warm and appreciating. Still, I turn away, never comfortable with the male gaze. Was he amused at my primping? Slide in, that passenger side said, and find out. Turning again, I hold his gaze and smile back.