Page 28 of Stain
Aylee
“Am I taking you home?” he asks, with visible tension in his clenched jaw. There’s a dark expression on his face that goes beyond simple brooding. Silently, I wonder if I did or said anything wrong.
“No,” the answer comes too quick. I hate how desperate I am right now for even the smallest sliver of his time and attention. “I’m supposed to be sleeping over at Mallory’s tonight.”
Nothing and then, “He let you off your chain?” The question drips with so much disdain, it burns like acid. There’s no reading his expression when he briefly turns to me. He’s completely closed off.
I don’t pretend not to know who he’s talking about. He saw the bruise on my cheek. He may not be the school type, but that certainly doesn’t mean he is stupid. He knows what’s happening. He knows Tim hurt me. Except he has no idea to what extent. And I want to keep it that way.
I hesitate for a small fraction of a second before throwing caution to the wind and setting my hand on his thigh. He visibly jerks, his thigh muscle tensing beneath my hand like my touch hurt him. When I make to pull back, his hand falls on mine like an anvil. His grip is so tight I’m afraid he might break my fingers.
“Maddox.” The whimper of his name instantly loosens his grip.
Taking his eyes momentarily off the road, he looks at me with sincerity. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. He keeps my hand buried beneath the warm weight of his own.
We drive in silence going to a destination only he knows. It doesn’t matter where he’s taking me or where we end up. As long as I’m not going home. I’m content being in his truck. I’m content having my hand sandwiched between his palm and thigh. I’m content simply orbiting around him, basking in the lure of his presence. Bliss I’ve seldom known is in this moment.
Roughly forty-five minutes later, we pull up to an old, misshapen wire fence. Just beyond the fence are rows upon rows of massive steel, rectangular containers that stand maybe about forty to fifty feet high. It’s the sort of cargo containers you’d find attached to the back of semitrucks on the interstate.
Looking away from the lot, I ask, “What are we doing here?” He cuts the engine and pulls the key out of the ignition.
Wordlessly, he opens the driver’s side door and hops out. “Getting you a good grade.”
Ignoring that little voice in my head telling me this probably isn’t a good idea, I jump out of the truck, close the door behind me, and run to join him a few feet away from the eight-foot high fence. “You’re not actually thinking of going over that…right?”
He’s running before I even get the last word out. Jumping onto the fence, it squeaks and trembles when he lands on it. He straddles it at the top for a second before swinging both legs on one side and leaping off without the slightest hesitation. He lands on the other side effortlessly.
“It’s your turn,” he casually says, like jumping a fence is a common, leisure activity.
Trepidation twists my insides as I shake my head. “There’s no way I’m jumping this fence.”
“You’re going to have to if you’re going to see what I want to show you.”
Curiosity mixed with a good dose of skepticism prompts me to ask, “What is it?”
He laughs. “Get your ass over here and you’ll see it.”
I bite on my lower lip, completely uneasy now. “I don’t think…”
“Stop thinking,” he snaps, but then a little gentler he says, “I won’t let you fall.” I catch his eyes peering at me through the holes of the fence. It’s that pointed, magnifying stare that seems able to observe me down to the molecular level. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you,” he utters with such unshakable certainty I’d be stupid not to believe him.
Even with all the trust I choose to put in him, the panicked, adventure-less part of me is still screaming,“What the hell are you doing?”as I begin to scale the fence. I ignore it as best as I can, focusing solely on Maddox waiting for me on the other side. It’s no easy task making it to the top especially with the skirt and the partially-heeled bootees I’m wearing.
At the top, I look down at him. “Ready?”
He nods, planting his feet firmly. “Jump.”
Eyes clenched shut, and with a small choked scream on my lips, I jump. He catches me in a princess-carry hold as I land in his arms with an ‘oomph’ sound. My skirt folds upward revealing far too much of my thighs and my hair is in disarray around my face. I’m sure I look terrible as I quickly reach out a hand to smooth down my skirt.
“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asks with that patented half smirk that weakens my knees and sends the butterflies in my stomach fluttering.
“It was, actually,” I begin, wanting to protest and wrap my arms around his neck when he sets me down on my feet. “But you made it easy.”
He only takes my hand in response and pulls me after him as he trudges across the dimly lit lot. When we stop in the towering shadow of one of the steel containers, he lets my hand go and reaches for the chipped, yellow rung of the container’s ladder.
With a groan, I ask, “More climbing?”
He chuckles. “It’s the last of it.”
