My hand felt weird. Weird good? Bad? Good? Bad? No, good. Scary, good. I'm not used to scary good.
My brain ping-ponged back and forth on the idea that something weird could also be good. Weird didn't have to be bad.
I kept thinking about how small my hand looked, fingers weaved together with Tate's, our hands resting on the small divider in between our seats as Tate drove towards Dark Race Speedway. I felt safe, my hand woven together in warmth and comfort.
I tried not to think about how it felt... right. If I thought about it for too long, I might jump out of the car and run screaming. I clearly wasn't good with things that went well. Life had taught me that they always ended badly. And not thinking about it was a better way to go. Not thinking about it meant I wouldn't overthink it and ruin it with my instincts to destroy every relationship I cared about. Not thinking about it meant that I wouldn't have to try and push Tate away.
"You want me to let your hand go?" Tate asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
"Hmm?" I blinked, pulling my gaze from my hand and looking up at Tate.
He shot me an amused grin before looking back at the road, offering my hand a tender squeeze. "You've been staring at our hands for a full minute without talking. And I'm pretty sure you stopped breathing for a few seconds there. You okay?"
"Oh," I breathed, out slowly, surprised that he was right. "Yeah."
"Yeah, as in you want me to let your hand go, or yeah as in you are okay?"
"I'm not used to holding hands," I admitted. "...It's nice."
He lifted our hands and gave my knuckles a quick kiss. "Good. Because I need my hand back for just a minute and I want you to remember that holding my hand doesn't mean you need to hyperventilate."
I rolled my eyes letting his hand go, ignoring the way my stomach suddenly felt like an acrobat. "I'll do my best not to die."
He laughed, voice rich and bright, filling the car with another wave of warmth. It made me want to hear that laugh over and over. If I could bottle it, I could sell that laugh to everyone that needs joy and make so many people smile.
Tate pulled the car up against a curb, stopping nowhere close to the race track. "You down to make a quick surprise stop before our destination?" he asked, suddenly wearing a secret smile.
I squinted through the window, trying to see past the bright sunshine. "That depends... where are we?"
"That would ruin the surprise." Tate stepped out of the car and opened my passenger door. "Come on Winters."
After a beat, I climbed out and got a better view of where we were. "Um... are we going shopping?" I asked, staring up at the small clothing store standing to our right.
Tate grinned mischievously, looking both proud and excited. "You'll see."
...
We stood inside of a store called Fashion It Your Way, a warm and cozy clothing store I had visited a few times over the years. It was bright and filled with wood tones, making it feel almost like a bohemian log cabin.
"You must be Tate," a plump woman in her forties said loudly, walking out from behind the cash counter located at the back of the small store. She wore her hair up in bobby pins, purple curly hair wildly collected at the top of her head. A long cardigan trailed out behind her like a cape as she walked.
She gave Tate's hand a squeeze, eyes bright behind her moon-shaped clear blue-rimmed glasses. "I'm so excited that you set this up."
"Thank you for being so accommodating," Tate replied, all warmth and smiles. It was nearly impossible to not smile when he talked to you.
"Are you kidding! Anything for Winters Fashion!"
The woman turned to look at me, her deep brown eyes, going wide, full of awe. "Your clothes are the MOST COMFORTABLE THING I OWN." Then she leaned towards me like she was telling me a secret. "Not to mention they sell the best." She held out her hand to shake mine. "It is an honor to meet you! I'm Madeline."
Confused and flustered by the sudden praise, I shook hands with nothing more than a smile, unsure of how to respond. And before I knew what was happening, Madeline was pulling me towards the back of the store, where a set of changing rooms stood. I shot Tate a confused glance over my shoulder trying to understand what his plan was. But his face didn't give anything away.
I wasn't very comfortable with surprises and would have normally insisted on answers, but I didn't want to ruin things. Tate, seeing my sudden anxiety, offered an encouraging smile, mouthing, It's okay. I promise.
I sighed, letting out a nervous breath before I was ushered around the corner, entering the dressing room. I was suddenly face to face with dozens of girls of all ages. They broke into ear-splitting squeals, smiling widely. "IT'S ALLIE WINTERS!"
I instinctively took a step back, startled by the noise, and rammed the back of my head into Tate's chest. My head spun for a beat. Stupid well-toned chest. It's like a freaking brick wall.
He placed his hands on my shoulders to steady me, leaning forward to whisper in my ear, his breath tickling my neck. "You make beautiful things. I thought you might want to get a glimpse of the people who love them."
It was then that I realized everyone in the dressing room was wearing one of the outfits I had created over the last few years. It was like looking at a mood board of everything you love projected in front of you. A love letter made up of fabric, stitching, and your deepest dream. Their smiles are what drove it home. All of these girls, wearing clothes that had once just been ideas in my mind, and the looks on their faces said it all. They love them.
I blinked, speechless, on the verge of tears. Something that was hard to do unless it involved threats or violent words. I had been so focused on creating, that I hadn't taken the time to open my eyes and look at what was done with them. I hadn't seen people actually wearing the clothes. I was overwhelmed by the sudden attention. By the bubbling excitement in the room.
I was quickly ushered into a chair right outside of the dressing room, and before I could ask what was going on, music began to blare in the store, a sign was quickly flipped to show that the store was closed and I watched as each girl came out of the dressing room sporting one of my outfits, all grins. They walked with confidence, each stopping right in front of me. Then one at a time, as they struck a pose, they told me something they loved about the outfit...
"This makes me feel confident. This makes me feel beautiful. This makes me feel strong. This makes me feel sexy without feeling slutty. This is soooooo comfortable."
I was overwhelmed. Touched. And felt more grounded than I have in months. It was a reminder of why I worked hard to make beautiful things. I felt so utterly seen. So touched. And so unguarded. Like I had been living behind a wall and suddenly took a step outside for the first time, breathing in fresh air, sunshine on my face. It was like magic.
Needless to say, I was an emotional wreck of feeling. But I managed to keep it together. To not burst into a ball of tears and terrify them all.
The whole experience didn't take more than fifteen minutes, but it was everything, making my heart ache, overwhelmed with love and inspiration. There was no other word for it. My heart hurt, the gratitude, so strong that it was hard to breathe, to think.
After they finished, I was quickly whisked into pictures with each of them, where they continued to tell me how much they loved my work, and was then sent on my way.
I walked back to the car on legs made of jelly. It was almost laughable. Dealing with creeps or vandals, and I feel steady on my feet, but throw kindness in my direction and I was a puppy learning to walk on unstable ground. Unsteady, but determined to keep going.
I reached for the door handle to the car, but Tate got to it first. Instead of opening the door, he leaned against it, taking me in as I stood unsteadily on the sidewalk. "You okay?"
"I'm just surprised. That was..." I shoved my hands into my pockets. "A lot."
"Too much?" He looked concerned. Like he may have pushed too far with a kind gesture. The idea that he cared so much made my heart flutter wildly in my chest. The open and vulnerable look on his face made me want to lose myself in his arms.
Is it possible to break apart from kindness? For it to be too much? For it to drown you?
I swallowed. "No," my voice sounded uneven, soft, uncertain. Like I had forgotten how to sound strong.
Then, as if reading my mind, Tate opened his arms half a second before I buried my face in his chest, wrapping my around him tightly, enjoying the feeling of his muscles under my fingers. "It was perfect. I'm sorry if that wasn't clear."
"You are a girl of actions. This says it all," he murmured. The sound of Tate's heart was strong, beating fast under my face, telling me just how much he wanted me. That even with his smiles, and gentle patience in pushing things between us forward slowly, his heart was already far down the road. How much do you like me Tate? Don't like me too much too fast. Please don't let me break that beautiful and perfect heart of yours.
I leaned back, enjoying the sudden pink that filled his cheeks. Loving how they made his eyes striking, brighter against his dark lashes. "Ready to go? Pretty sure everyone in the store is staring at us," I said with a laugh, not daring to turn around.
Tate, who apparently had no shame, glanced over my head at the store and offered them a friendly wave, laughing. "Yeah, they totally are." He opened the car door. "Let's go before their excited screams break the store windows."
...
We pulled the car into Dark Race Speedway and parked in front of the large race track that was already roaring with noise. I was suddenly thrown back to a life with reckless decisions and began to second guess my decision to come. To bring Tate with me. That was a different me. I'm not her anymore.
We got out of the car, but before Tate could move towards the entrance, I reached for his hand, pulling him to a stop. "Wait." My voice sounded strange, almost scared. Tate stopped, suddenly quiet. "I just..."
I stared at the giant race track before us as if it had transformed from a safe haven to a foreshadowed coffin. Why am I nervous? Is it because Tate is with me? It's not like anyone from my past is here anymore.
I pressed my nails into my palms, digging into the skin. "I just want you to know that this place... holds a lot of baggage for me. I wasn't the best person when I used to come here." My words didn't feel like much of a warning, or an admission. But I didn't want him to walk into an old world of mine without understanding that shadows followed me there.
"Allie," Tate said pulling at my hands, forcing me to stop digging my nails into my palms. Deep eight identical crescent moon marks remained behind. Tate moved closer until my back leaned against the side of his car, his body close to mine, shielding my sight of the race track.
"Baggage is part of life." Tate's voice was soft, thoughtful as he stared down at my palms. He traced the marks gently, leaving sparks of fire in their stead. "The cracks and breaks that we get along the way can't be helped. They just add to the tapestry of who we are."
Tate slowly lifted my hands to his mouth and kissed each palm, gently. "And you Allie, are a beautiful work of art." Then he kissed my forehead, lips tender and soft, lingering for a long moment.
Then he leaned back and smiled. "If you don't want to go inside, we will ditch this place right now, and I will buy you all the pumpkin pancakes you want. But if you'd like to go back to your stomping grounds, I'll be right there with you."
He wove my fingers with his, enveloping mine with warmth. "Are you ready fire hydrant girl?" he asked, tugging my fingers and pulling me away from the car. I nodded, and we headed towards the race track, the feeling of dread slipping away.
...
The roar of the cars sent the stadium shaking. Wild and unbridled screeches cut through the air as blurs of colors zoomed past, chasing the one before it, each trying to consume the other as they raced in a circle.
The wildest of chases. Full of horsepower that could rip someone's world apart in an instant. And even with that dangerous power, their sleek nature was breathtaking, beautiful, alluring with their growling engine call.
I stood leaning against the railing in the front row of the stadium, watching the cars whiz by. With each wild turn the cars made, a gust of wind followed a beat later, sending caps flying around me. The stadium was half empty today, the race being a preliminary one. It was one of the reasons why it was the perfect day to come. Less chaos.
"Number five is going to win," Tate shouted over the roar, his face next to mine as he settled in behind me, hands next to mine on either side of the railing bar, caging me in place in front of his body.
I shook my head, eyes on the track. "No way. Seven has been racing longer. Five is a newb."
"Just because he's new here doesn't mean he's new to the sport. Look." Tate pointed to the track. "He's passed six cars already. The way he takes his turns is clean and tight. Nothing like a newb who would throw caution to the wind."
I turned to look up at Tate, forgetting that his face was already right next to mine. I fully turned around to stare up at him, still fully caged in between his hands settled on the railing. I leaned back as far as I could so I could see him clearly. "How do you know so much about this?"
"I raced cars a while back," he replied, dimples flashing proudly as he enjoyed my look of surprise.
I suddenly remembered the gossip column I read a while back. "Drag racing isn't like driving on the race track," I countered, raising a brow at him. "That's like the Wild West. Rain or shine you go. But here," I motioned over my shoulder with a head tilt. "There are rules."
A sudden roar erupted from the crowd and by the smug look on Tate's face, I knew what had happened. Number five won. "You were saying?" Tate teased.
I perused my lips, trying not to smile. "Beginners luck," I muttered.
Tate's smile widened as he searched my face, eyes glinting with amusement like he knew something I didn't. "What?" I asked, reaching up to touch my face. "Is there something on my face?"
Tate shook his head. His eyes warm, open, and igniting as I looked back at him. The deep green ablaze with want.
The world around us faded, the loud roar of the stadium dulling. There was just Tate, his face close to mine, warmth radiating off of him, the smell of Tom Ford Noir cologne wrapping around me, tugging my body closer like a moth to a flame. His green eyes drank me in, sending a shiver down my spine as he slowly moved his hands up my arms, until they landed on my shoulders, thumbs tracing along the sides of my neck, setting me on fire and melting me all at once.
My breath hitched as Tate leaned towards me, his lips hovering over mine. He paused for a beat as if trying to make a decision, his breath tickling my face. "Tate?" I breathed.
He began to lean away, as if coming to himself. I pulled him to a stop, my hands wrapping around his leather jacket. "Afraid to kiss me?" I challenged, watching him closely, ignoring my sudden and wild heartbeat that felt like its own roaring race track.
Tate swallowed. "Afraid that if I do, I will never stop kissing you," he admitted, gruffly. "And you are easy to spook Allie Winters."
"Well isn't that touching," a snarky voice said to our left.
Letting go of Tate's jacket I whirled, recognizing the voice. Fire and ice washed through my veins. Anger and terror surged through me, each trying to strangle the other as I took in the wild and dangerous man who stood five feet away.
A threatening smile filled his face, his eyes too wide, smile sharp and cruel, all making him look unhinged. He hadn't changed. Still sporting wild black hair that swept across his face, like a curtain that held back the secrets behind those beautifully cruel eyes.
Eyes that were nearly black. Tattoos snaked up his thick arms like a warrior showcasing their kill count. He wore a hoodie, sleeves pushed halfway up his arms, hands in his pockets.
He stared at me with that same expression that haunted my nightmares. A look of possession, like I was a toy that he was eager to play with and smash. And in that look, I knew it was too late to run.
"Ashton?"
---
Thank you for reading chapter twenty-five! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes!
UPDATE DAYS - A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY! (I dropped Friday's chapter early).
GAH! Date time has been interrupted! BOOOOO!
Ashton has appeared! DUN DUN DUUUUUUUN! We are in for quite the reunion. What do you think will happen?
Will Tate and Ashton get into a fight? If so who will win? PLACE YOUR BETS in the comment section here -->
CHAPTER QUESTION -Â Do you ever stay friends with exes or ex-crushes?