Chapter 2 #2
I sit up and finish my cigarette before flicking it to the ground and squashing it under my boot.
The smell still lingers, but so does my electric scent as she strolls closer.
It vibrates with anticipation, making the static around me crackle with each step she takes forward in her cheerleading shoes that I love even more than her occasional heels.
I watch, a smile curving at my lips as she finally makes it under the oak, her lips pursed with hesitation as she stands above me and crosses her arms.
We stare at each other for a moment, completely silent as the wind rustles the leaves above us.
“Axl,” she says as a greeting, completely awkward and beautiful at the same time as she lifts her chin up high to show her dominance.
“Stacey.” I let my eyes blatantly roam over her body, from her miraculous legs to the edge of her skirt lying against her milky thighs, to the tiny sliver of skin showering where her cheerleading shirt rides up underneath her denim jacket.
I stifle a growl in my throat. That jacket can’t be warm enough for the cool September air.
She’s always doing that. Choosing to look cute over protecting her body from the cold. I remember one time outside my friend’s garage, her pink tracksuit that offered no warmth…
“Are you done ogling me now?” she asks, her demeanor much more shaken than when she first walked up.
“Ah, Stacey. I don’t think I’ll ever be done.” I flash her a sinister smile and the scent of white gardenias floats toward me, the wind moving in just the right direction to give me a dose of her beautiful scent that I desperately needed.
“Well, I’d like to have a civilized conversation,” she continues.
“You and I? Civilized? Please.” I pat the ground next to me. “But I’ll entertain it. What do you need?”
She eyes the spot beside me, shaking her head. “I can’t get grass stains on my skirt.”
“Okay.” I stand up and lean against the base of the tree. “What can I do for you, Little Reckoning?”
She rolls her eyes, trying to pretend the nickname infuriates her, but I know she’s curious. I also know she’ll never ask me about it. She’s too scared of the honest answer I would give her.
“The racing extravaganza,” she says, her eyes trailing to the ground. “I was wondering if you knew the address.”
A quiet laugh escapes me. “No one has called it that for years. It’s just ‘the race.’”
Her eyes widen slightly, her cheeks flushing a pretty pink. “Oh. Okay… then ‘the race.’” She raises her fingers, mimicking quotation marks. “I want to go, but the person who said they’d give me the address flaked.”
I raise a brow. “They flaked?”
“Something about not wanting to be ‘dead meat.’” She uses the quotes again and I let out a snort of amusement.
The race is very exclusive, which mainly translates to ‘no Greenwood people allowed.’ There’s too much risk that someone will snitch and the event will be shut down. Greenwood has their traditions, but so does Oakson, and the race is one they’re not willing to risk.
“I may know the address,” I say with a taunting smirk. “What are you willing to trade for it?”
Stacey glares at me, unamused. “Don’t be a little shit, Axl.”
“I don’t think you should be talking like that to the only person willing to give you what you need.”
She blinks at me, her skin turning red, then scoffs. “Maybe I can find someone else.”
I shake my head. “Trust me. No one will give it to you. Inviting a Greenwood resident to the race is social suicide. And sometimes actual suicide.”
She stomps her foot, but it’s so soft and demure that I crack a smile. “What do you want in exchange?”
I move my fingers to my chin, pretending to think it over. The truth is, I don’t really want anything in return. I can tell how much this means to her, so the address is hers, but it doesn’t mean I can’t play with her for a few pleasurable moments.
“Maybe… a date,” I suggest.
She halts, but doesn’t look revolted. “I have a boyfriend, Axl.”
“Yes, I know. The alpha who wears polos and Abercrombie.”
“Don’t be rude,” she hisses.
I put my hands up in surrender. “Fine, I’ll respect your commitment to Justin Timberlake, but you’ll still have to do something for me.”
“Sure,” she says, seeming to give up her resolve. “What do you want?”
“You have to hang out with us at the race.”
She balks. “What? No.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “Stacey, it’s Oakson Lake. You’re going to stand out like a sore thumb, and hanging out with us will guarantee no one will mess with you. Please, this is for your benefit just as much as it is mine.”
She thinks on that, then her lips curve up in a smile that’s so glorious, it nearly blinds me. “So, you admit it is partially for your benefit?”
I should let myself blush like she wants me to, let her push me down a peg like she expects, but I won’t. I am proudly entranced by her and that doesn’t embarrass me one bit.
“Stacey, your presence has always been a treat. If I had my way, we’d be in each other’s company way more often.” When she opens her mouth to protest, I tsk. “Don’t pretend like I’ve ever been shy about how I feel around you.”
She swallows, her throat bobbing roughly at my confession. She pushes a flyaway hair behind her ear, rocked by my words, but then she squares her shoulders, steeling herself like she always does.
“Deal. You give me the address, I’ll be your date for the night.”
I pull my phone out and hand it over, biting my lip as something pools in my stomach.
I’m not sure if it’s excitement or anxiety, or if it’s disappointment that she feels like she needs to always put on a mask.
I like her without it, but she never takes it off for long.
When her number is added, I smile at the simple “S” as her contact name. Discreet, private. Almost forbidden.
“See you tonight,” she says, and then she walks off, leaving me with my longing despair once more.