Chapter 10
TEN
Playing: “forget me too” by mgk ft. Halsey
“Ew, Ledger, stop it!” Tini laughs and throws the oil-stained rag back at him. They push each other a few times, their smiles wide as oil collects on their skin. I recoil a bit, taking a step back so I’m not in the line of fire.
“Will you two quit playing around?” Lou huffs as he puts his wrench down and uses his own rag to actually wipe the grime from his hands. “This is my place of business, not the circus.”
“Don’t be a wet blanket, Lou,” Tini laughs. “You don’t want to be here either. Who likes working on a Saturday?”
“Anyone who actually needs to work will take any amount of hours that they can get.”
“I didn’t say I don’t work on Saturdays, just that it’s not fun.”
Ledger and I both sit this one out, because we don’t have it like these two do. Lou has been working since he dropped out of Oak High, and Tini had to go right into working at the local diner after graduating to help pay for her family’s rent and utilities.
“I’m going for a smoke,” I tell them, walking out before they have a chance to lecture me about the expensive habit.
I rethink it myself when I get outside and feel the blistering cold. Thankfully, there hasn’t been any snow yet, and it’s still bearable to be outside in normal clothes, but it’s getting there. I can almost see my breath when I blow outwards, exhaling the smoke after each puff.
A few moments later, I hear a car pull in and park, but I avert my eyes.
Most people in Oakson are nice about Ledger and me, but there’s occasionally an asshole or two that doesn’t like that we hang out here.
Despite the way we look, we’re still “rich” and “privileged” and “live in that hell across the bridge.” So, unless I know them, I tend to stay in my own lane.
That goes out the window, however, when there’s a flash of pink walking my way, and blonde hair that sometimes haunts my dreams.
Stacey fucking Hawthorne.
“You know smoking is bad for you,” she says as she walks up.
I smile, remembering when I said that same thing back in the old gym. When she took one of my cigarettes and proceeded to start a fire with it. “That’s never stopped you.” I echo her response back at her.
She looks genuinely confused, so I decide to drop it. If she wants to pretend that day didn’t happen, that’s fine with me. “What are you doing here, Little Reckoning?”
Her face pinches, and she tilts her head as if curious about the new nickname. Instead of asking about it, she tries to shrug casually. “My car is a bit messed up.”
Now I’m the one who’s curious. “Oh? And none of our parents’ fancy mechanics could fix it?”
It’s unusual for anyone from Greenwood to come into Oakson Lake for anything. We had everything we needed. The only reason to leave was to get some fresh air that’s not polluted by snootiness or perfume that’s too expensive.
“I—Well…” She bites her hip. “My car is new. I don’t want my parents to know that I fucked it up.”
That explains it. Nothing happens in Greenwood without everyone knowing about it.
I nod in understanding, but then look behind her to her Mazda and my eyes widen.
The mirror on the passenger side is completely ripped off, and there are scratches all along the new paint.
“What the fuck? What the hell happened?!”
Stacey winces. “I may have accidentally side-swiped Miss Foster’s fence.”
“And it did that? Is her fence fucked up too?”
“No.” She huffs with frustration. “It’s fucking indestructible, apparently. At least no one will know that part, but if my parents find out, I’d have to tell them how and I really don’t want to do that. Ergo, I’m here.”
“Ergo,” I repeat with a snort.
She flicks me. “Focus, Axl. Do you think someone here will help me? I still have the mirror, it just needs to be reattached. The rest of it is just… buffing and stuff?”
I sigh. “My friend Lou works here.”
“That’s great!” she beams. “He can help me, and maybe this won’t have to get back to my parents.”
“Oh, so you were just hoping that my friend would help you. Cut you a deal.”
“No. No, I just thought because of the model that he would be—” she replies on the defense before noticing the teasing smirk on my face. She lets out a frustrated sound and hits my shoulder. “Fuck. Don’t do that. You made me feel bad for a second.”
I put my hands up in fake surrender. “I can’t help it. Rich guilt is too good of a punchline. And I can say that, my dad’s loaded.”
She laughs out loud; a beautiful, genuine laugh that I feel all the way to my toes. Such unrestrained joy wrapped inside an alluring but tight package. It lingers in the air, a song for just me and the birds hiding in the oaks around us.
I step closer on instinct and her laughter dies down at my proximity, but she doesn’t move away. A shiver seems to run through her, and that’s when I realize her jacket is thin and feeble. “What the hell are you wearing?”
She looks down and back up with a scrunch in her brows. “It’s new. I just got it the other day.”
“You look like you’re freezing,” I comment and go to take my hoodie off. “Here.”
“I’m wearing a velour tracksuit. It’s not meant to be covered up.”
“Come on, just put it on until we’re inside,” I persist, trying to hand her the hoodie, goosebumps erupting over my bare arms. Again, she pushes it away, stubborn in the most beautifully irritating way.
“You don’t cover up beauty,” she declares.
“Doesn’t frostbite give you premature wrinkles?” I joke.
She freezes like the notion of that scares her. “No,” she says, but she doesn’t sound confident in that answer.
“Well, I guess we’ll see,” I tease, and once again, she pushes my shoulder playfully, only this time her shoe slides on the leaves beneath her.
It all happens in slow motion. I throw my hoodie to the ground and scoop my arm around her before she can fall.
My skin comes into contact with the soft velour of her tracksuit, but also a bit of her own skin as it pokes out at her midriff.
She squeaks with panic and then fists the front of my shirt to help balance herself. When her feet are sturdy, and she’s no longer in danger of face planting, we both let out a sigh of relief, but when we both notice how close we are, we freeze in our tracks.
It’s like I’ve stopped breathing. My arm is wrapped around her and her body is right against mine, like she’s something precious in my arms. Her hands are still holding me tight, my shirt bundled in her fists like she’s afraid of what will happen if she moves a single muscle.
We avoid each other’s eyes, neither of us making a sound.
She looks up at me, her eyelashes fluttering. Even her anxiousness is cute as her mouth opens and closes every time she goes to say something but decides against it. My attention stays on her lips, on how they look soft and subtle.
I wonder what would happen if I lean forward a tiny bit, extend the offer that I know we both want to take. Just this once, in this town where nobody is watching and we can be any two people we want.
I can see the same line of thought cross through her as our eyes lock together.
Fear and desire and worry and want, all wrapped into one.
My face leans forward ever so slightly, just to test the waters, and she notices with wide eyes.
For half a second, I think she’s going to accept it, close the gap between us like the energy demands, but then she hangs her head, looking defeated.
I finally let my arms fall, and her hands unclasp my T-shirt, leaving behind tiny wrinkles in the material. She takes a step back, still looking worried by whatever just happened.
We’re silent for a few awkward seconds, each of us reflecting on what was about to happen before I clear my throat and motion over my shoulder. “Come on. I’ll make sure Lou looks at your car.”
I grab my hoodie and walk her inside. For the rest of the day, I play the what-if game. What if she hadn’t stepped away? What if we had finally given in? What if we weren’t from stupid fucking Greenwood?
What if.