A/N: This story is my weakest point so far... I know it's kinda slow and whatnot. But I will definitely have things rolling in the next few chapters. I really lost all my good inspiration. Blech. Vote and comment go help me get it back? Haha.
Danke for the support. Instructive criticism appreciated.
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Chapter 5 - Just A Ride
8:01.
DING DONG.
My pa got up to get the door while I did the dishes. I turn the faucet on and wipe a few plates and utensils when I hear the low muffle of hyper conversation. Probably one of mum's girl friends. I thought.
Whistling a tune, I dry the dishes and put them in the cupboard.
"Mr. McKenseth!"
SCREECH. A RECORD RIPS.
That is NOT who I think it is... is it?
I turn from the cupboard and come face to face with my pa and... none other than Rachelle Mitchelson's huge smile, lips slightly parted.
"This young lady here forgot her homework at school," Pa said. I gave him an incredulous look before quickly changing it to a welcoming, warm smile to hide my shock.
"I feel so guilty," Rachelle bats her eyelashes at my pa and gives him the poutiest lips ever. "I'm failing all my classes because I always forget my homework."
My jaw drops. That is NOT why you're failing... NO. It's because you spend your time doing 'OTHER' things.
Pa buys right into her little act. "Aw, such a sad little girl. Don't worry, Richard will get your homework for you. Hey, Rich, I'm goin' to read, see you tomorrow, son! Bye, Rachelle."
"See ya, pa." I barely manage to answer before he leaves the kitchen. He calls her Rachelle!
Immediately, Rachelle's frown turned into a seductive smile and she lifts an eyebrow at me. "It's after 8." She simply states.
"Rach-Ms. Mitchelson," I quickly save. My heart is pounding in my ears, my hands clammy and still wet from washing the dishes. "We're not going out-"
"You were supposed to pick me up at 8!" She complains.
I glance at the clock. 8:02. "It's only two minutes after!" I stutter. "Didn't you even wait at your house?"
"I did wait! You're Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes Perfectionist Extraordinaire. You're never late for class, you're sharp as a pencil. I knew you weren't coming while I watched the clock."
Apparently, she is sharper than a needle. Or just completely over observant. She takes a step forward and I quickly walk my way around the island cabinet to put distance between us. What if she pulls the same stunt as eariler? I'm glad there aren't any chairs in here...
I take a deep sigh trying to calm my nerves, shooting off like the Saturn V. "Ms. Mitchelson, I made it clear," AHEM. "... that I wasn't picking you up tonight. I'm a teacher. You're a student."
"Oh, that argument again?" She bats her eyelashes rapidly.
"Did you really leave homework at school?" I ask, trying to change the subject.
"Yes..." she answers. "I always do."
"Couldn't you have just waited until you went to the dance to get it?"
"What, and waste my time when I could be dancing?" She takes another step, my hands gripping the edge of the island tightly.
Good point. She loves dancing. Wait, am I agreeing with her?!
"Well, I'll let you off tomorrow," I quickly make up, "...and you can finish your homework then."
She takes another step forward and I step sideways, sliding my hands on the island counter. We're right across from each other, separated by 4 feet of wood and she's staring at me like a feline. Her eyes are so dark blue they appeared pitch black, blending in with her pupils. They had me entranced for a few seconds before her voice snapped me out of it.
"But I left calculus and geography homework as well."
I lift my eyebrow incredulously. "You did?"
She laughs lightly, not even the slightest bit embarrassed. "I think I did. It's not at home."
I almost smirk at that, then realize how pitiful that is. Forgetting all your homework at school... Wait, she probably does it on purpose. Or at least she did tonight, just for an excuse to get me to drive her to the school... but doesn't she have her own car? Or a date? Oh, wait! I'm supposed to be her date.
Not supposed to!
"Mr. McKenseth," she purrs, giving me a droopy eyed look. My breath is caught in my throat as I wait for her to continue. "...It's just a ride. Are you afraid... of a ride?"
YES. The hell I am. I'm damned scared out of my bloody socks. "Ms. Mitchelson-"
"Rachelle," she corrects smoothly.
"Ms. Mitchelson," I repeat firmly, unyielding. If I call her Rachelle... I might never see the light of reason. Ever. Again. It would just be much too personal.
"Yes, Mr. McKenseth?" she asks innocently.
I sigh and hesitate, eying her carefully before replying. "I'll take you to the school for your homework."
"Thanks, Richie," she purrs.
There, how easy is that? Like she said... it's just a ride. Right? I can't get over how satisfied she looked when saying my name and leaning over the island.
10 minutes later...
Somehow I managed to make it out of the kitchen and into my car without being attacked or pranced on by her. I had quickly changed into a black turtleneck over a pale blue button up shirt, and black jeans while Rachelle had talked with my parents in the other room. Before I had left, mum had complimented her.
"Such a bright student, she is, Rich. And gorgeous."
"Hope she gets her homework," Pa said.
BRIGHT? Is she really? I hadn't noticed! Where was I when all this happened? In a freaking bathroom, that's what.
The car was now going 40 miles an hour down the highway towards the high school, which was 4 miles from my house. I lived a little ways in the country, then it was half a mile into town to the school. Montogomery High it's called.
"Your parents are really cool," Rachelle said.
I smile and nod, though slightly confused. I wonder where she's getting at talking about my family... as if it's a starter conversation, only to make me vulnerable and mislead me into other conversations. "Yeah, they are."
"How come you never talk about them in school?"
I freeze at that. "Don't I?"
"No..." She leans towards me and eyes me, my eyes following her in my peripheral vision. I nervously push my glasses up to the bridge of my nose and feel heat creeping up my neck. Despite the chill of the end of winter it felt like a furnace in my car, and the heater hadn't been on for a few minutes.
"Well... it's not really... popular to live with your parents."
"Isn't it? I live with my parents, big deal."
"That's different," I immedately reply. "You're 18. You're allowed."
"Oh, so someone is supposed to do things they're only allowed to do? And yet... you still live with your parents."
OKAY. Did she just outwit me with my own words? I must be going senile. My mother is right. I open my mouth to reply when there's a great weight on my right leg. My eyes dart down and it's pink polished and tan fingers gripping my thigh. Without thinking, I remove my hand from the steering wheel and try to brush her hand off but her grip's too strong. Gritting my teeth I return my sight the road.
"Remove your hand, Ms. Mitchelson," I say in the calmest voice I can muster. Which is strained and completely screaming mad. I get a sick feeling in my stomach as a thought enters my head.
Is this how she gets all the other guys in school?
GRRKK.
I swerve the car to the right as I spot something large and bright in the headlights. Slowing down I pull off the edge of the road, Rachelle's hand leaving my thigh. My heart is racing and my palms are sweaty again as I put the car in park.
"What is it?" Rachelle asks.
"I don't know. Wait here." I open the door and am blasted with cold winter air that barely calms the blush on my neck and cheeks. Looking around on the side of the highway I try to find whatever it is I had barely dodged, but there's nothing in sight. No animal, no person, car or thing. A few headlights are ascending down the dark highway and I sigh, turning to return to my car.
"What is it?"
I gasp as I almost knock into Rachelle who had appeared right in front of me. She wasn't wearing her leather jacket, just her red corset dress, very tightly fitting and probably made from leather too. "Aren't you cold?" I reply, worriedly. My hands were bitten from the cold and she was standing as comfortable as if on a beach in the summertime.
She smiles. "No, did you find out what you swerved to miss?"
I shook my head. "No, get inside the car 'fore you get sick." She seriously could catch a cold or a hoarse throat at least.
She nods without talking, which surprises me for once. Instead of walking around to the passenger side she slides across the driver's seat to hers. Hmm... I wonder why she did that. No. I don't wonder now. I just got a great few of her derriere and legs as she bent over to do the task. I combed my fingers through my hair nervously before inhaling deeply and getting in my car, shutting the door.
I change the gears and pretend not to pay attention to her. This time I see her hand inch its' way to my thigh and I slide away hastily enough to avoid it. I put the car back in park and turn towards her with furrowed eyes. "Okay, first thing's first. Don't put your hand on my leg."
She cocks her head innocently with that same smile, her eyes glowing in the dim light of the car. "Why not?"
"Why not?" I ask in disbelief, almost scoffing at myself. "It's a distraction, I can't drive."
"Yeah, you're right. You swerved at nothing. Damn, you're touchy."
I look at her in awe, to see a glimmer of amusement in her eyes and realize she's playing with me. Playing, always playing. This is a game to her. I'm just a player. It feels like Chess... I wonder what piece I am. She's probably the King and I'm the Pawn. Oh hell no, she's all the pieces and I'm the chessboard, getting all walked over.
Damnit. Her hand's on my leg again.
"Ms. Mitchelson," I say in my most low, warning tone. It's actually pretty scary, like I have big gangly teeth and a furry mane.
It does nothing to phase her from her playful, feline mood. "Yes, Mr. McKenseth?" That innocent tone... is just far too innocent.
"Your hand. Off my leg."
"Mew, Richie. You like it." She rolled the 'R' in my name this time, giving me tremendous chills.
Yes, the sensation is very comforting, but it doesn't mean I have to like it. I'd rather that hand was attached to a body whose mind is a little more... stable?
"Really, I would rather we not be late to the dance." Oh, a great excuse indeed. I am just dying to get to the dance when Rachelle is right here, next to me, massaging my leg with her fingers.
"Alright then, drive." She answers simply, turning back towards the front casually, hand still on my leg. I stare at it for a few seconds with furrowed brows as if that could make it move suddenly. No, still there.
Sighing in defeat, I change the gear to drive and just when I'm about to put my foot on the gas.
BAM. BAM.
My heart jumped and my head darted towards my window, a bright light shining through it making me wince. The light fades and shines in the other direction, a police man's hat and face coming into view. I roll down my window.
"You alright, there? Oh, it's you Mr. McKenseth."
"Hey, Keith." I recognize him immediately. I don't trust the guy, but he doesn't try to get me in trouble at least. "Yeah, just swerved and checking the road."
"You find anything?"
"No, unfortunately. Must have been a deer or something."
"Yeah," Keith answered. "Well you have a good night."
He was about to turn when his eyes went past me and he spotted Rachelle. He eyed her closely. "Haven't I seen you before?" he asks.
She bats her eyelashes at him and shakes her head innocently. "Why, no you haven't officer. I don't think we've met."
"Right, I haven't seen you before. Good night, Mr. McKenseth."
"Good night."
I roll up my window and look at Rachelle whose smile is bent on making me believe every little innocent act she is pulling. "You know Officer Keith, don't you?"
"No. What do you pull me as, a liar, Richie?" She asks teasingly before turning towards the front.
Finally I drive off and head to the school, deciding to drop the subject. She knows that officer... I'm convinced of it. Luckily she didn't try anything further than a simple touch and she remained painstakingly silent throughout.
And yeah, she's right.
I do like her hand on my leg. Secretly. Okay, not secret to her. But still.