Reckless – Episode 27&28

RECKLESS

Reckless – Episode 27&28

→ Out•Of•Control ←

[Book 1 in The Untamed Duet]

________________________

All rights reserved. 

No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, or reposted in any form, or by any means without a BOLDLY written permission from ME.

Copyright © 2025

Naomi Cindy B.

___________________

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

 

[30 Mins Ago, No Sleep Garage]

7:30.

Too late.

But then…there’s the red carpet before the tango according to the programme he saw on the Mixer banner that was hung on top of the campus gate, so there might still be a little time to get ready.

Red carpet takes just few minutes—roughly thirty minutes, so he still has thirty minutes at his disposal.

He shut down the laptop, abandoning the programming he was about to venture into.

He rushed out of the garage, and despite the fact that he was only just getting down from a car trip which is very dangerous, he still got back in the car, and Matteo spranged up.

“Where are you going in a car again? You’re just gonna leave the car beside a road again you crap boy!”

Trevor rushed out of the garage restroom where he was peeing, and merely seeing the car driving out of the garage gave him goosebumps.

“You only just got down from a car ride! It’s dangerous to get on another!” He shouted.

But he was responded with the angry groaning of the car as Cove screeched violently out of the garage.

“He’s not going to the Mixer, is he?” Matteo muttered.

“Why so sudden?” Trevor stood on his tippy toes. “I’m worried about him. What if his head gets rowdy again like last time?”

“Last time can’t happen again, definitely.” Matteo assured, though he knows he shouldn’t be this absolute about it. Cove is indecipherable.

Cove’s veins were already shaking inside his bloodstream by the time he got to the studio apartment.

He came out of the car, his head screaming and his breaths running. He rested his right hand on the car body, taking few shallow breaths as the sweat on his face frosted.

The drive from the garage to this place is five minutes, but it took him three minutes cos he was speeding like a criminal.

He dragged another shallow breath into his nostrils before going up the low staircase.

He pushed the door open, and the first place he went was the small clothes hanger.

By now, he’s already feeling the earthquake and hurricane in his head… all together.

He blocked it out with grunts, and he sweated more as he digged into the clothes on the hanger.

He yanked off his jean, hoodies, Trevor’s wears and everything till the hanger became naked, and now he’s staring at what he’s looking for beneath the weak oak wood.

A wrapped bloodred suit.

He didn’t buy it with his money.

Why would he buy a suit?

But last year when he became a university student in his former campus, Matteo bought this suit for him as a gift.

He had declined, saying he didn’t want a suit, but Trevor took it and stashed it here, and now the use is here in handy.

He threw the wrapped suit out of that crampy space,then his clothes hit the bed as he took them off and wrapped his towel on his waist, entering the bathroom for a shower.

He spent five minutes inside, he washed his hair too, and the water did a little help in reducing the quake in his skull, but that little help amounts to nothing.

When he came out of the bathroom, his head was quaking again.

His sweating persisted, and as he blowdried his hair, he was panting…

Till he was done.

He brushed the hair back in a slick-back style, gelling it a little, then he got a little work done on his thick brows, shaping it perfectly.

He grabbed a black undershirt and threw it on, then the suit followed.

He ripped the plaster from his jaw. The treatment is really potent cos the wound is gone now. It didn’t even leave the littlest scar.

Dressing up took fifteen minutes, and now he has seven minutes to drive to school if he’s gonna meet up.

He threw his buzzing phone in his suit inner pocket and rushed down the stairs same way he rushed up, and he literally jumped in the car.

His drive to the campus was a life and death situation.

Close to suicide.

He almost hit two girls.

He spent thirty minutes on the road —extra 23 minutes cos his eyes were blurry throughout, and his intestines felt like they were entwining.

When he arrived at the campus, he was still sweating bowlfuls, and he had to rest his frame on the car, taking deep breaths.

His chest felt like it’d balloon and burst anytime soon, and the world is still blurry to him.

Despite the fact that he’s now out of the car, he could still hear the sound of the engines roaring in his head, and it’s making him groan.

The noise in the surroundings of the hall did nothing to placate him.

Then the announcement came…

“IN THE ABSENCE OF THE CHOSEN KING, NEW TANGO KING DECIDED!”

“DORIAN WESLEY IS TO TAKE COVE’S PLACE ON THE DANCE!”

That was the kick he needed.

He gathered himself together and wiped sweat from his face.

Though he’s dying slowly inside, he made his way to the glaring apple entrance of the hall.

[Present Time]

Cove entered, dressed in a blood-red suit, hair swept back to make the bangs disappear. Eyebrows carefully shaped, eyes so still.

Gasps. Wide eyes. Gags.

Dorian and Stacy paused, but the music didn’t pause, and as Cove began moving to the dance floor, Zendaya’s heart broke.

Trinidad smiled. “The king is here.”

Dorian didn’t try to hide his surprise. It showed in the way his lashes blinked, but why would Cove show up here of all places?

Stacy’s brows are almost joining in the middle right now—anger.

Why would he come?

After standing her up cos yes he did stood her up. If Dorian didn’t fill in, then she’d have been disgraced, so why is he suddenly entering?

If guts were riches, then this guy would be a multimillionaire. His guts is overflowing like some fountain.

And the way his shoulders are high, the way his arrogance is still oozing off him even with his lateness.

It’s infuriating so much she wants to kick him off the earth surface.

Zendaya was panting without even realizing. Her chest is tight. She might get an heart attack at this rate.

Elmira and Roxy? The wideness of their eyes has refused to reduce.

The music is still playing, the mood is still thick, the atmosphere is still set.

Getting to the tango floor, Cove tendered his right hand.

It’s slightly bigger than Dorian’s, but Stacy didn’t have the patience to analyze that cos she’d rather die than take that hand this night.

Dorian waited for her move, and so is everyone in the hall.

Cove’s eyes are cloudy—dark rain clouds which saturated the red suit he’s rocking. His irises felt it too.

He wasn’t looking at Dorian. His eyes stayed glued on Stacy as he awaited her hand on his own.

But Stacy had other plans.

She separated herself from Dorian.

“The music, from the beginning!” She shouted , and the speakers obeyed her voice. It was immediate.

Oblivion began playing from the beginning, and the hall lights dimmed just enough for the chandelier crystals to glitter like suspended stars.

Dorian’s usual golden retriever energy was gone. What replaced it was something steadier. Hungrier.

The crowd sensed it instantly.

“May I?” he asked softly.

Stacy didn’t answer. She simply placed her hand in his, ignoring the existence of Cove completely.

The contact was electric.

Dorian’s fingers didn’t just hold hers—they slid between them, interlocking slowly, tightening as the first sharp note of the music sliced through the air.

Dorian’s other hand moved to her waist, firmly.

He drew her in with a single controlled pull.

Her body met his chest in a soft collision, the impact subtle, but enough to make her inhale sharply.

The crowd audibly reacted.

And this is the part where Cove’s hand went down. Like he didn’t just get abandoned and rejected on stage.

He walked out of the hall, and his head quake returned in folds.

Before he arrived back at his car, he was already seeing rainbow.

No—the whole galaxy.

Inside the hall, the first steps of the tango were slow and measured.

Dorian guided Stacy backward, his palm pressing gently at the curve of her lower back, fingertips splayed as if grounding her there.

Every time she stepped, the slit of her dress opened, her thigh brushing against his leg in deliberate passes.

Dorian pivoted, and their hips aligned for a suspended second before he rotated her under his arm.

As she turned, his fingers trailed from her hand down to her wrist—not releasing her completely.

He kept that thread of connection alive, and when he caught her again, it was closer.

Much closer.

Her chest rose and fell against his own as the tempo sharpened.

He guided her into a tight circle, his hand sliding from her waist to the curve of her hip to adjust her angle.

His thumb pressed lightly into the fabric, steadying her before the next sharp movement.

Gasps rippled through the students.

Dorian stepped forward.

Stacy stepped back.

Their legs crossed and uncrossed in quick, intricate patterns. At one beat, her thigh pressed fully against his own as she hooked her leg around his own briefly—not clinging, just anchoring before before releasing in a precise smooth glide.

The crowd roared.

Dorian spun her fast.

The rhinestones on her dress caught every light in the room, scattering flashes across the ceiling.

When he pulled her back in, his grip tightened slightly at her waist—not rough, but protective.

Possessive.

The music slowed, and he lifted her arm, guiding it around his shoulder instead of above her head.

Their bodies aligned completely now. No space between them.

The heat was undeniable. Her hand rested at the nape of his neck.

His hand slid lower along her back, stopping right above her hip as he dipped her slowly—just enough to tilt her world.

Their faces hovered inches apart.

The cheering of students blurred into background noise.

This is starting to look like a romance play—too real.

The music cut, and he lifted her smoothly back to standing, but didn’t step away immediately.

His hand lingered at her hip. Their fingers were still intertwined, foreheads almost touching.

And the crowd?

Absolute chaos.

Students screaming. Whistling. Phones raised. People standing on chairs, chanting both their names like they’d just won something bigger than a dance.

Because tonight?

Dorian Wesley didn’t just show up, he showed her exactly how it would feel to be chosen.

The cheers were still ringing when he lifted her from the dip.

But he didn’t let go.

His hand stayed at her waist. Hers lingered against his chest.

They were breathing the same air now—too close to pretend it was just performance.

He leaned in slowly, foreheads nearly touching.

The crowd quieted, sensing it.
His eyes dropped to her lips.

For one dangerous second, it looked like he was going to kiss her.

The tension thickened. A few students gasped.

He moved closer, then shifted at the last moment.

Instead of her mouth, he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to her forehead.

The crowd exploded.

When he pulled back, their foreheads rested together, noses almost brushing, breaths uneven.

And somehow, that drove everyone crazier.

This time, the remaining Glitz girls were finally able to scream what they’ve been holding in.

“I swear Dorian if you don’t let Stacy be your video vixen in your next music video, it’d be wasteful. This is so fuckin perfect!” Tasha shouted, her phone angled well.

“Whoa!” Tania clapped. “I never knew I’d love a tango performance in this life. Take all my money!”

“Yeah this is phenomenal I wanna cry! Stacy is so beautiful, help!” Kehlani sniffled.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Tasha laughed.

“But she’s beautiful let me hype please! And Dorian? That smile…they have to date after tonight I swear! If I have to apologize for what we did to his concert, then I will…he’s so burning hot!” Kehlani sniffled again.

“Glad I witnessed tonight!” Tania screamed elatedly.

• This is so gorgeous.

• I’d pay any amount to watch that performance again.

• The chemistry? It’s on steroids!

• Am I the only one who want them to date already?

• Me too! They’re so cute!

• I’m gonna cry, stop!

Amidst all the comments, Zendaya was nowhere to be heard.

She’s not in the hall anymore.

Elmira left the hall in anger. Seeing Dorian alone is infuriating, but seeing him win with Stacy of all people? She could die of anger.

“That was some sick shit, I admit. The craziest tango performance I’ve ever witnessed,” Frank said.

“You’re not allowed to compliment any of them, Frank.” Remo said, staring at his phone and waiting for the text from Elmira.

And it came immediately.

Elmira: Now.

Remo smiled creepily, looking around to sight Kehlani, then he grabbed a cocktail glass and began going to her.

Immediately he left, Scott felt pressed, so he went in search of a bathroom to do his business.

Now it’s just Frank and Max left in that angle.

“You’ve been wordless,” Frank noticed, facing Max.

“Elmira has some shit up her sleeves, I can’t quite place it,” Max muttered, pouring wine in his glass.

“Are you scared of your hooker? Or you’re scared of your girlfriend?” Frank asked, drinking the wine.

“Scared of Kehlani?” Max rolled eyes. “It’s pity, I just pity her. She can’t live without me so she might just jump in a volcano or something.”

“Bad Boy!” Frank laughed, and their glasses clinked.

Outside the hall, the former king and queen picture has left the screen.

Now it’s the picture of Dorian and Stacy captured during the dance.

And this is exactly when they left the stage, with prestige. Stacy nearly fell cos her tall heels are killing.

Dorian quickly held her by the arm till they entered the hall free room.

“You ok?” He asked.

“I’m used to tall heels, but I’ve never danced tango in them before, so you could say I’m overstimulated,” she bit her lip unintentionally.

“Pull it off?” Dorian offered, and she immediately raised her right heel to pull off, but Dorian went down and pulled it off her instead.

She quickly held his shoulders.

“Did someone pay you to be a romance geek tonight?” She said with a wide smile.

“We just finished dancing tango, and it’s common knowledge that tango can’t work if there’s no chemistry between the partners, Stace,” he looked up.

“Aw,” she sounded teasingly.

He took off her second heel too, squinting. “Um…did your feet grow from childhood at all? Why the fûck is it so small? Even your hands felt so fuckin little during the dance,” His voice was mocking as he talked

“Small stature, small feet, small hands. It works that way, bullhead,” she slapped his shoulder, and he rose with a low, playful squirm.

Now he’s standing in front of her, holding her heels in his left hand. Stacy’s height felt folded in front of him, and he can count how many curls are in her hair right now, but that’s not the point, cos he’s staring into her eyes instead.

She stared back, her eyes holding something even she herself can’t pinpoint.

She opened her mouth…

“Um….”

“No don’t get awkward,” Dorian replied, and she chuckled hard.

“I promise it’s not awkwardness, but maybe you’re a bit hotter tonight?” She said straight.

“Oh… I’ve always been hot to you?” Dorian got serious.

“We need to talk, Rian,” Angela suddenly appeared, eating up their privacy.

“Angel…hey…” Dorian sighed.

“Like I said…we need to talk,” Angela remained planted there like stubborn grass root.

“I’m gonna go talk to her,” Dorian told Stacy.

“Take your time,” Stacy replied.

Angela gave her a scorching stare before following Dorian away.

Stacy rolled eyes. “Why was she giving me that evil eye?”

She pulled out her phone and went online to check what was happening.

She was hyper when she saw all attention on herself—and Dorian.

Every single major group, even the IG feeds of the students.

Stacy Montana.

Dorian Wesley.

Stacy Montana.

Dorian’s crew must have posted his dance pictures with her cos they’ve been uploaded on his page since twenty minutes ago when the dance was only just starting.

And the likes? The comments?

She was reading and smiling.

Tasha sent her pictures of her that she took on stage, and Stacy posted them immediately.

18 slides.

It’s like her followers have been waiting. One minute, 300+ comments, and she nearly screamed.

But in her comments, she realized she and Dorian aren’t the only people trending after all.

There’s a third name.

Covey Fabio.

• Duh, I personally think Cove would have done the dance better.

• Nah, he came late, his name isn’t even supposed to be mentioned.

• But I love his suit! It even matched Stacy’s dress!

• The brows! Why is no one talking about his brows? Whoever shaped it is from heaven! It’s perfect!

• Dorian is the new king, no Cove talks please!

• Cove is the original!

Stacy dropped her phone when she couldn’t go on with reading the comments anymore.

Now her mind went to him.

She might be angry when he came in earlier, but not enough to not notice the thin sweat on his temples.

He was sweating slightly, and his eyes were slightly red, too.

Now that she thinks about it, his palm was white like there’s no blood in it when he tendered it.

Is he ok?

Wait…why is she even worrying??

That boy? He might just enter this place right now and go… ‘Dullard Montana, your dance was sour!’

It’s not something he can’t do, so she has to stop getting worried.

She breathed in, standing up.

But genuinely…is he ok?

A message popped out on the group, and she gasped as she read.

There’s gonna be an after-party after this Mixer, and she’s just hearing?

More like clubbing.

“I can’t party in this dress,” she muttered.

She needs one of her slutty outfits, so she texted Anita to bring one over, but Anita isn’t replying.

She’s not picking calls too.

—

[Outside The Hall]

Cove is back with the car, but he didn’t enter.

Instead, he knelt beside it, his head spinning and his eyes still blurred as he tried to set his mind straight.

His right hand is on the ground, grabbing the low grass, and his left hand is in his hair.

Fine…he shouldn’t have come here in a car at all, and he even sped.

Also, he was rejected. What a three in one full-package way to die.

He shook his head, another groan escaping his throat as he tried to push the flashback off his head.

But he wasn’t successful. He could visualize himself hitting that man with a car, and immediately he got that flashback, headache joined the quake in his head, and he roared.

“Damn…”

“Covey!” Zendaya ran to the park, eyes wide when she saw him like that

“Covey are you ok?” She squatted, placing an hand on his shoulder.

He shook that hand off and sat on the grass, backing the car tyre.

His head is still slamming, and is throat is so dry it’s almost dusty.

“Covey!” Zendaya held his face, and that was the last straw.

He removed her hands, and with the animalistic energy in him, he pushed her. Zendaya rolled on the grass.

“Ice prince!” Trinidad appeared.

She bypassed Zendaya and gave Cove an hand.

He took it, and she led him to the other side of the car where she opened the door for him.

He sat inside, resting his head on the headrest.

“You seem to be having an headache, I’ll get you pills from the campus pharmacy,” she said.

“I won’t take pills,” he grunted, and she sighed.

“Of course you won’t, are you even human?”

He opened his eyes, and now the redness is subsiding.

“I’ll get you some water at least,” she offered, leaving to get some from the campus restaurant.

Immediately she left, Zendaya came to Cove, again.

“You don’t look good, I can stay with you you calm down…at least,” she offered, but it wasn’t a wise move, cos Cove got up from the car immediately

His hand located her shoulder, and she wasn’t prepared for when he bent it backwards, then…

A crack.

He shifted her shoulder bone…he dislocated it hurtfully.

Zendaya’s cries bounced off the bodies of the cars in that park, and now it’s her vision’s turn to blur.

“You probably told a big brainless man that I am your boyfriend, and that is why he sent men to kill me at the warehouse. He even came to threaten me himself, but he’s gone now, and if you don’t wanna go dead like he did, stop hovering around me! Stop acting cheap! Get off!” He warned and threatened in one.

Zendaya’s dislocated bone suddenly didn’t matter anymore.

With teary eyes, she looked up.

“It’s not cheapness, it’s dedication! If you don’t like thick girls, I can hit the gym cos of you!” She said.

“I’ll kill you, and no one will find your body,” he muttered.

She gulped, the pain from her arm returning as Trinidad returned with a bottled water.

He took it and emptied is all on his head to fight the headache.

—

[Restroom]

Scott has finished his business since some minutes now, but he remained in the restroom, just scrolling through RIDE official IG account and watching the mixer videos.

The students dance with their dates will start in five minutes, but he’s not even in the mood to dance.

Knowing his gay sexuality, the school paired him with another male, but he’s not just interested.

He clicked his gallery, and he smiled before he knew it when he saw pictures of himself and his lost sister.

She was force-feeding him raw onions despite the fact that he hates it, but anything for her.

She’s a cheerful, beautiful girl who just wiped off the earth crust without any idea what happened to her.

Is she dead? Trapped?

No news, but he’s hoping it’s the latter cos then she’d still be savable, and he’s hoping she’d persevere till they’d be able to find her.

He finally lifted his back from the wall, wanting to return to the hall for the students dance, but that was when Kane entered.

Scott stopped, took one step back, but then he swallowed his cowering and moved forward.

Just like he predicted, Kane grabbed him, and he was ready to attack too.

He lifted his knee for a crash on Kane’s groin, but Kane was smarter.

He revealed a glass cup in his second hand, and he crashed it on Scott’s knee. That was just enough cos as Scott howled out, he dragged him to the nearest zinc bowl and opened water on it till it’s filled.

He shoved Scott’s face into the water-filled zinc, and Scott’s hands began finding something to hold on top of the bowl, but he could only splatter water and touch the edges.

Kane was smiling as he kept his face underwater, enjoying the gurgles and grunts and the bubbles that formed and popped on the water surface.

The water overflowed from the zinc bowl to the restroom floor, flowing around the tiles.

By the time Kane raised Scott’s face from the bowl, Scott was gasping for breaths, and water was pumping out of his nostrils and mouth.

But now…the balm has washed off his face, and his freckles are showing.

“Good, those beauties are out,” Kane smiled wider, running his thumb over the scattered dots.

“Be thankful I’m not in the mood to stab you tonight, my stab is for someone else, so you got submerged instead,” he continued.

Scott was still trying to catch his breaths when Kane tore tissue and began wiping the water from Scott’s face, gently.

“You should have listened when I told you to never cover your freckles from me again. Why are so so stubborn? Were you that eagar to be underwater?”

Scott slapped his hand away.

“What’s your plan?” He queried, eyes still thin. His blazer has changed from brown to black cos the water reached the polo, and it’s spreading.

“My plan?” Kane sighed, rounding him. “Initially, I only wanted my mother to leave your father’s mansion, so I staged weakness to buy her guilt, but she uncovered my game, and now that it’s obvious she’s never gonna leave your father’s mansion, I have another plan.”

“And that plan is?” Scott glared as Kane stopped in front of him.

“You. You’re the plan.” Kane muttered, his smile fading, replaced by an acid-kol kind of gaze.

—

[Mixer Hall]

Remo has been sourcing for ways to communicate privately with Kehlani, but all ways are blocked.

Kehlani is either chatting with Tania or giggling with Tasha.

She has been with the twins since the end of the tango dance, and now that the students dance is two minutes from now, she’s still with the twins.

Stacy came to tell them she’s going home to pick her after-party dress, and even after Stacy left, Kehlani still didn’t step away.

Remo lost patience and dropped his utilarian cup of cocktail then stepped into their middle.

The three of them shot him death stares especially Tania who’s his date for tonight, but he doesn’t give a f+k.

“Someone wants me to tell you to check your boyfriend’s phone, but that’d take too much time. I have one of the videos with me, so I’m gonna send it now, and you’re gonna watch it and cry for me.” He said.

Kehlani pushed him off and was already walking out on him after calling him a bastard, but her phone dinged, and she stopped to see.

The moment she clicked on the WhatsApp text video, her organs were interchanged with rocks, and she felt miserable inside.

Her eyes suddenly couldn’t feel the balls anymore cos she felt blind. It can’t be true.

Never!

She looked up, and not far from her, Max is laughing with Frank.

Then her eyes went back to the video on her phone.

Max… eating the pvxxy of another girl. Remo blurred out the face of the girl, so she didn’t see who.

But her own Max, eating that…

Her chest slashed.

No sword in sight, but it slashed.

Tania and Tasha joined her, and what they saw on screen made them gasp at the same time.

The phone fell from Kehlani’s hands, and Remo’s diabolic smile filled his face.

—

[Hall Balcony]

The students dance is now, but Elmira and Roxy are yet to return inside the hall.

The Mixer is procedural despite the fact that there’s no chaperone.

There’s no alcohol. No booze. No cigar or pot allowed. No heroine and other hard drugs!

You can’t even drink martini cos it’s strictly to socialize while holding non-alcoholic wine and cocktails.

The after-party will be on a whole new level though.

Elmira received a text on her phone, and she jumped on her heels immediately.

Remo: Done.

“He did it?” Roxy grinned.

“You don’t trust Remo? He should be called RIDE devil,” Elmira laughed. “Now wait for Kehlani’s madness in few minutes to come.”

Roxy stuck hands with her, and Trinidad joined them.

“The f+k have you been?” Roxy frowned.

She has been with Cove, giving him water cos he had an attack. And after Cove wet his head with water, he left the campus.

But she can’t tell them that.

“Vaping on the rooftop of the library building,” she replied.

“It’s the students dance time, lets hit the official boring dance floor!” Elmira shouted.

They all returned inside.

On the other part of that same balcony, Dorian stood with Angela, both facing each other.

“We should return home. You need to reconstruct the final notes of your upcoming release. You haven’t even chose the locations for the music video shoot yunno we aren’t using green screen. Also, your fan meet is tommorow and you have another ambassadorial shoot. Let’s return,” Angela read like a preschool kid.

“Let me get this straight,” Dorian frowned. “You called me out here to read me this epistle? Angel? What the f+k! I know about these things you just said, and I’m working on them! I barely even sleep at nights cos I’m always busy! Now I can’t even talk with my friend without you interrupting?”

“Stacy ain’t your friend! You decided to tutor her doesn’t mean she’s a friend! At the end of the day, you didn’t even tutor her! She left you for Cove so know your worth! Don’t fall for her!” Angela spat.

“Geez, Angela, what is wrong with you!” Dorian tousled his own hair. “What is wrong with you Angela? What the hell is your problem!!!”

Angela sighed, her body responding to the way he raised his voice.

She likes it—his feral angry side.

Dorian turned, wanting to get out of this place.

He needs some air.

Also, he needs to see Cove, and he needs to see Stacy again.

But Angela’s next meaningful words stopped him….

“Remember what your mum sacrificed for you to become this popular and loved, don’t throw your mum’s efforts away!”

He stopped, turning as his eyes darkened a notch.

“Are you threatening me? Angela Degraw?” He called her full name.

Angela’s body responded to that, too.

Her full name? F+k. Yes, baby.

But she didn’t say that out.

“Rian—”

She wanted to talk, but he already took a cigar out of his pocket and fired it up. He was smoking sinfully as he slipped out of the balcony.

Angela grabbed the banister.

—

[9PM]

After-party starts at 10—off-campus, so if Stacy wants to meet up, she has to drive faster.

She stepped on the gas.

She’s getting more used to driving herself these days. Her long nails aren’t a problem anymore.

In fact, she loves the way the pink nails splayed prettily on the wheel, and she’s lip syncing to the playing song on the radio.

( Red Eye – Darci )

She’s getting into the beat, rapping aggressively along, alone.

If her girls were here, the car would be on fire right now cos it’s their best release right now.

Maybe none of the girls even knew about the after-party before tonight cos they’d have blown it, but it doesn’t matter anyways.

She’d be home in ten minutes, get her cûnty outfit and get back to campus to join the fun.

Also, Anita has to give a full explanation as to why she didn’t pick her calls or reply texts.

The car whipped past a perfume store, and among the different scents that teased her nostrils, she picked the scent of vetiver.

Cove.

Is he ok?

The last expressway before her dad’s estate is awfully scanty tonight.

Usually, it should be rolling with speeding cars, but she hasn’t seen any car drive past.

When she realized she’s alone on the road, she stopped rapping along.

She stepped the gas completely, wanting to get out of this silence, but she had to let out a gasp cos she almost hit someone.

On the expressway—in front of her car, a figure stood, silhouetted.

There’s just a finger-measured gap before she’d hit him, but she was quick to step the brakes.

What!

She was scared to get out of the car at first cos the figure didn’t move even.

Is it the man in black?

No. Definitely not.

When he was chasing her in the rain that night, he looked shorter than this. This figure is tall, and she could almost recognize the silhouette.

Slowly, she slapped the radio to keep shut, and she got down from the car, her breaths catching seldomly.

She quickly pressed on her phone screen, and though it’s not bright, it’s enough to make out the face beneath her fear.

“Covey!” She gasped.

The distance between them became history when he came closer, and her phone shook off her grip when his hands gripped her wrists.

“What are you planning to do to me in this dark expressway!” She demanded, struggling.

“Noise is forbidden here, Bad Idea,” his voice sieved into her eardrums. “Unless you wanna be tied tight on this express and left to freeze till the morning. We both know how hard you shiver when you see cold.”

“Covey I am going to bite you!” She struggled again, the after-sound of his voice still hitting her ear shells.

He pressed his finger on her wrist vein, she winced.

His other hand gripped her waist, holding her in place.

She tried to pull away, but his touch was iron, leaving her breathless.

He leaned close, lips brushing her ear. “I won’t ask twice,” he murmured, thumb tracing her pulse.

Her body trembled despite her mind screaming to step back.

Then his hand tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his demanding gaze.

His eyes left no room for refusal. She shivered, caught between fear and a pull she couldn’t name.

“You are going to dance,” he mused.

“What!”

“Yeah… The tango,” he purred, voice blade-like. “You’re going to dance with me on this expressway.”

“You came late to the Mixer, and now you want a dance on the expressway? Are you insane?” She pushed against him, but that was when he left her wrists alone.

He went to her car, stretched his hand to the radio, but instead of the initial song, he rolled the radio dice to another tango string music.

Libertango – Astor Piazzolla

The dark, cold expressway turned even darker as the music poured out of the speakers with ease.

He lifted his frame from the car, turning on the light inside the car before coming back for her.

As he came closer, she backed up.

“The faster you give in, the faster you leave this place…” He declared, voice moving a notch up.

If there were a scale for vocal venom, his voice would be pushing ninety-nine.

His tone came out flat—almost calm, but beneath it lurked something ravenous.

The faint glow from the car mirror slid across his face as he leaned toward her, slow and unhurried, like he owned the ground she stood on.

As if he’s aware she has nowhere to run.

And even if she did, where would she possibly go on this cold express?

“What exactly do you want, Covey?” She croaked, her steps still going farther and farther from him.

She’s so far from her car right now on that express, but she’s not far from him cos as she moved, he’s following with his long legs.

The bad news? No passing cars.

It’s like she’s in a precipice.

“Dance. It’s simple, Stacy. Disobedient dolls get punished. Don’t take another step up that hill,” he said.

There was no trace of humor in his voice—only something dark and final. In three long strides, he closed the distance and caught her.

She stilled, her breathing uneven, realizing that running now would only waste her strength.

His right hand rested in the middle of her naked back, and his left hand rested on her soft hip.

The strings of the music got carried by the express wind, to them…

She’s not wearing heels again, so she’s even shorter, and as their legs moved sidewards at the same time, she quickly grabbed his shirt by the side, knotting it in her palm.

At this point, she has to really give the devil the dance.

Her second hand rested on his chest, and a car finally drove past, but the express is so wide the driver didn’t even notice them.

The rear lights of the car rushed their faces with brightness, and only then did she see his face clearly.

The sweat has vanished, replaced by a steady, unwavering glare that locked her in with piercing focus.

He twisted her, and she twirled with a gasp, her back turning to him, and his two hands resting below her belly.

Her lips parted.

By the low woods beside the express, Zendaya watched.

TBC.