22 Everleigh Make Way For The Feeling—Chance Peña
Everleigh
Make Way For The Feeling—Chance Pena
“You realise I haven’t driven in years?”
In the Land Rover’s back seat, Maverick curses colourfully. “We’re going to die.”
“Hey!” Leo protests. “Have a little more faith in her.”
“Nope, he’s right.” I wince behind the steering wheel, studying the dials. “You are likely to die.”
“See?” Maverick sighs.
“It’s not that complicated, Eden.” Leo braces an arm behind me to gesture over the controls. “No harder to drive than a regular car, just a bit more . . . rugged.”
“You couldn’t own an automatic? Make my life a little easier?”
He shudders in mock horror. “You wouldn’t last five minutes driving that crap around here. This is Rover territory, baby.”
“Fucking hell,” Maverick mutters. “Go jerk off over your car somewhere else, dude.”
“What? I love her.”
“You’re a world-class moron.”
“Hey!” Leo cries. “Don’t mock the wheels!”
Truthfully, I didn’t realise he drives at all despite living together for a while now. Leo always hikes to work and permanently lives in muddy shoes. When he opened up the garage to reveal the classic Defender, kept in immaculate condition, I knew I wanted to give it a spin.
“Maybe we should do this another day?” I chew the insides of my cheeks. “Perhaps when you don’t have an appointment and I can drive like a snail?”
“No point in putting it off.” He buckles in, appearing far too at ease. “Let’s get a move on, sweetheart. Thierry’s expecting us by lunchtime.”
“I’d like to live long enough to finish up my sleeve,” Maverick inserts. “So drive carefully.”
“No pressure,” I mumble.
After failing to pump the clutch a few times, muscle memory kicks in and I locate the biting point. The car takes off down the narrow path that leads away from the cottage, engine roaring beneath thick, army green steel. Damn, they don’t make cars like this anymore.
“You got it.” Leo sits forwards in his seat, poised to help if needed. “Now give it a bit more gas.”
“But not too much!” Maverick yelps.
“Shut up, Mav. Don’t be such a pussy.”
“Fuck you, pal.”
“Yeah, yeah. Love you too.”
“Cut it out,” I snap at them. “I’m concentrating.”
“Sorry,” both chime in unison.
Indicating to drive away from town and into the rolling hills, I settle into the driver’s seat once Hawkthorpe is safely behind us. Like most kids in the UK, I learned to drive at seventeen, but I haven’t set foot behind a wheel since my engagement became official in my early twenties.
Having the means to do whatever I wanted would’ve been unthinkable for Christopher.
Our driver, Pierre, was on his payroll and knew exactly which places were approved for me to visit.
It’s a wonder what money can do to silence people’s moral concerns.
No one ever vouched for me, no matter the coercion they all witnessed.
“Take a left here and head for Grasmere. The tattoo parlour’s in the town centre, but we can use the staff car park around the back.”
“This is a friend of yours?” I brake to round a tight bend.
“Thierry’s done all of our ink.” Shrugging, Leo unwraps a stick of gum to pop in his mouth. “Did my first piece on my eighteenth birthday. I wouldn’t go anywhere else.”
“He’s the best in the business,” Maverick concurs.
“You must’ve spent thousands here between the two of you.”
Leo chuckles, relaxing once he’s sure I’ve settled in. “Everyone’s entitled to a vice.”
“Sure. No judgement from me.”
“So what’s yours?” Maverick pops his head through the seats.
“I’m not sure if I have one.”
“C’mon, mystery girl. Give us a clue here.”
“What? I’m boring.”
“You didn’t have a rebellious phase as a teenager or something?”
“Not really, my mother was pretty strict with me as a child, and I never had the opportunity to explore. No tattoos, never had my hair coloured. I don’t even have any piercings.”
With a searching look like he’s noticing these things for the first time, Leo studies my appearance. I don’t like how he’s looking at me differently ever since the bothy, assessing for proof of suspicions I’ve yet to confirm.
“You ever thought about getting one?” Maverick asks.
“A tattoo?”
“Sure. You could start with something small.”
“I’m not sure what I’d have.”
“What kinda stuff do you like?” Leo joins in. “Doesn’t have to be meaningful if you don’t want it to be.”
Their questioning opens a hidden wound that’s rotted away beneath the surface since I was a dolled-up child, paraded in front of my mother’s upper-class friends for maximum social grifting. I doubt they even knew my name, let alone cared about her blatant exploitation.
Helping me discover who I am, or who I even wanted to be as a child, never cracked her priority list. The path from prized only child to eligible debutante then newly married socialite was predestined before I even left the womb.
“I don’t know,” I whisper around the lump in my throat.
“What about a message?” Leo suggests, fishing for ideas. “Someone once told me that your tattoos should be a reflection of your personality inked onto skin.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It’s a representation of who you are,” Maverick clarifies.
“But what if I don’t know who I am?”
Dead silence burgeons inside the car. Heavy. Noxious. Loaded with a melting pot of secrets ready to bubble over.
“Then you get to choose who you want to be,” Maverick intervenes without judgement. “This is your chance to remake yourself into that person.”
“Just like that?” I laugh weakly.
“Why not?”
“It’s a tall order.”
“Then start small and explore, play around with it. I wouldn’t suggest shaving all your hair off or getting a face tattoo, but this could be a good opportunity to discover who you are now.”
“Mav’s right,” Leo chimes in. “You can choose.”
“Just not a face tattoo?”
“I mean, I’d still love you,” he says with a wince.
Stretching over the centre console, I squeeze his thigh, then return my grip to the steering wheel. Leo grants me a secretive smirk that makes my heart stir behind my breastbone.
“Wait, we’re saying the L word now?” Maverick splutters.
“The L word?” Leo twists to glare at him. “How old are you?”
“Don’t avoid the question. When did this become official?”
“You want to see a marriage certificate or something?” Leo huffs.
“I’d settle for my best friend keeping me updated on his love life!”
“Jeez, Mav. Give it a rest.”
If I weren’t driving, I’d happily smack the pair of them.
“I’ve just never heard you use that word with a woman before.” Maverick’s tone is teasing, if not a little defensive. “Sue me for being shocked.”
“Mind your own business, alright?” Leo grouches.
“Eden’s my friend too. Am I not allowed to enjoy this moment?”
“This isn’t reality TV. Stop making such a big deal.”
“Wait a second, what about Ster—”
“Moving on,” I interject before he can dig any farther.
“Sore topic?” Maverick teases.
“Zip it, you. Leo, which way now?”
He disregards his friend’s smug grin in the rearview mirror, rattling off directions for the road ahead.
I ignore them both while driving and churning over their suggestion.
No matter the months I’ve spent free, it’s never quite sunk in that I can choose exactly who I want to be, regardless of the name I’m using.
Not once have I been able to make my own decisions. Least of all about my appearance. The first choice I made was out of terror when I hacked off my long tresses—not exactly an act of liberation. This would be my first real step towards retaking my identity.
I finally feel ready for it.
A new, real me.
When Grasmere comes into view, excitement rolls through my belly. The tattoo parlour is nestled in the centre of town, though it’s really more like a touristy village that hugs a nearby lake. Each terraced, grey-stone building is topped with a slate roof, creating a picturesque scene.
“Here we are,” Leo announces.
“Is there much demand for tattoos in a place like this?” I study the quaint town.
Pointing around the back of the narrow street, he directs me to the car park. “You’d be surprised.”
“People travel from all over to see Thierry,” Maverick adds.
Manoeuvring Leo’s beast of an off-roader into a tight parking spot takes a few attempts. The guys have enough grace not to comment on my bad parking skills. Once in, I kill the engine, then toss the keys at Leo.
“Delivered safe and sound. Be sure to tip your driver, folks.”
“I’m a bit low on cash,” Leo admits, unclipping his belt to lean over the console. “But I can make good on payment.”
In the back seat, Maverick gags dramatically when Leo plants a firm kiss on my lips. I seize a handful of his T-shirt to drag him closer and deepen the kiss, tasting the fresh burst of his minty gum.
“Alright, fucking hell.” Maverick opens his door to escape. “You guys are so gross.”
Leo strokes my cheek with the back of his knuckles, pecking my mouth one last time, then separates.
“We should head in before he has a brain aneurysm.”
“That ship’s sailed!” Maverick calls, then slams his door shut.
“Did we break him?” I snicker quietly.
“Mav’s never seen me interested in anyone. He can chat shit all day, but he’s happy about this.”
“Will he still be happy when he finds out I’m sleeping with your brother?”
“That one may take some explaining,” he acquiesces. “But let me deal with it.”
“And what about Fletch?”
“Easy, sweetheart. One bombshell at a time. I can handle Mav, it’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about this.”
Cupping my cheeks, he presses a tender kiss on my forehead that does something inexplicable to my insides. I have to blink a couple of times to get my wits together.
“Okay?” Leo soothes.
“Okay.”
“Then let’s head inside.”
“Wait, Leo—”
“What is it?”
Throat clenching with anxiety, I peer up at him. “Do you really think I can choose who I want to be?”
His smile is eternally patient. “Of course you can.”
“I’m not sure where to begin.”
“For the record, there’s nothing wrong with the person you are now.” He strokes a thumb under my eye. “But if there’s something you want to try for yourself, then I’ll help you every step of the way.”
“Is it really that simple for you?”