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[color=gray][sub][i][b]With Special Guest: [s]Lover #1[/s] [color=3041cb]Tate Paxton[/color] [@TootsiePop][/b][/i][/sub][/color]
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[color=silver][indent][indent]For the majority of the student population of Liberty and Rosefell high schools, the time to make their grand entrances across the gates and to the Rosefell building was now. The pint-sized goth girl named Stephanie Cross was most certainly [i]not[/i] one of them. Instead, the young woman was busy smoking a blunt in the street corner, [s]im[/s]patiently waiting for the bus that would take her to Robert's Auto Repair. In normal circumstances, Spice would ask a friend for a ride to school and to the shop, and pick up her car at a later time. But towards the end of spring and the beginning of summer, ‘going to get her car worked on’ had become something of a hobby. Namely, ‘getting her car worked on’ by a mechanic/drug dealer named [url=https://media.tenor.com/images/66a64e097bf4773edca8b9a37cd2d33d/tenor.gif]Ricky Quinn[/url].


To the very few people that knew of the [i]entanglement[/i] between Spice and Ricky, the topic was a sore one that was met with plenty of discomfort and disapproval. Not only were the circumstances between their initial meeting questionable at best, but the seventeen-year age gap and the fact that he was the father of her very first Rosefell fling pretty much topped the long list of reasons as to why they shouldn’t be involved in the first place. But Stephanie Cross wouldn’t be Stephanie Cross if she started to care about the opinions of the public. If she wanted to start off her day with a dose of Daddy Quinn magic at his boss’ auto shop before driving off to her first day of school, then she would do exactly that.

But damn, this bus really [i][b]was[/b][/i] taking for-fucking-ever to finally freaking arrive.

Five minutes later, an oh-so-familiar purple Honda Civic came cruising down the street, travelling north, straight to her. The engine had an efficient hum, was clearly well oiled, and glimmered in the morning light, thanks to an ultimate shine car wash. There was only one person who would have the audacity to pick up her car, without her permission. The closer the vehicle got, the clearer the view became. There in the driver’s seat sat a man Stephanie Cross knew all too well and it [i]wasn’t[/i] Ricky Quinn. 

With his thick, lustrous brown hair slicked with gel to go into a blowout, strong and defined facial features, and a smouldering, sly smirk, a mysterious man, who went by [url=https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e2/3c/5e/e23c5e016f1bb66bd551b1cf8969ec7a.gif]Tate Paxton[/url], pulled up in front of the damsel in distress. When he came to a full stop, parking her car, he brought the window down. His infamous smug smile was all that could be seen until he leaned closer to the window to see her vexed expression. 

[color=3041cb]“Oye! Morning [i]Kitten[/i]. Beautiful morning, isn't it?”[/color] His beard was growing out, which only meant one thing. His schedule was busy and he took some time out of his week to drive all the way from Cleveland, just to see her. As he scanned her up and down, his eyebrows raised, liking what he saw. After a long, intimate moment, he rested his light brown gaze on her enticing face once more.  [color=3041cb]“Who would’ve thought we’d go to the same guy, aye? Not me that’s for fucking sure!”[/color] he halfheartedly joked. Subconsciously, he tapped his right hand on her wheel three times, which was a subtle sign of his irritation. 

[color=C71585]"[i]What the fuck, Tate[/i]?!"[/color] Stephanie cried out, her small face dripping with disbelief. Out of all the faces she’d been expecting to see on this day, Tate Paxton’s was certainly the last one on her list. In normal circumstances, she would be [i]thrilled[/i] that Lover #1 had shown up to take her to school. She hadn’t seen Tate in weeks-- and although they’d been in constant communication via [s]scandalous[/s] texts and Facetime calls, it was never the same as when their bodies melted together behind closed doors.

But under these bizarre circumstances, with him arriving in the car that was supposed to be under Ricky’s supervision back at the shop, it was very hard for Spice to get past the initial shock of it all. [color=C71585]“There is no way in [i]hell[/i] you come all the way from Cleveland to Columbus every time your stupid car needs to get fixed. And can you please fucking explain to me how the hell you got your hands on my damn car when it's been locked at a shop you have no knowledge of for three days?!”[/color]

[color=3041cb]“You want me to explain?”[/color] Turning off her car, Tate pulled out the keys and tightly clasped them in his right hand. After opening the door with his free hand, he stepped out with his polished and clean black oxfords silently dropping to the cement street. Tate being dressed in formal wear wasn’t usual for him unless he was in the middle of something important, that he cut short, to be here. [color=3041cb]“Yeah, I’ll tell ya.”[/color] 

Throwing her keys up in the air and catching it, he chuckled, [color=3041cb]“Imagine me, minding my own damn business, giving you the space you need to spend time with your cute best friend-- lovely girl, by the way, that [i]Aramintah[/i]-- letting [b]you[/b] be. Just be. [i]Freely[/i].”[/color] 

He paused and shook his head and sighed, [color=3041cb]“[b]Imagine[/b]—”[/color] Once again the keys went up in the air and back down in his hand. His attention never wavering from her face. [color=3041cb]“—I’m calling a good friend of mine and finding out,”[/color] The keys went up once more. He rolled his eyes at the thought that came to mind and instantaneously swatted the air to catch them. One last time. [color=3041cb]“he’s a good friend of yours too. A [i]really[/i] good friend of yours.”[/color] Shoving his hands in his pockets, along with her keys, he leaned in forward, his intense brown eyes locked with hers, and a smirk on his face. [color=3041cb]“Just thinking about it, what are the chances, right?”[/color] 

Stephanie’s reply was instant. [color=C71585]"The same chances of me driving to Cleveland to surprise you at the club and walking into your office to find your tongue down your new house mom's throat,"[/color] the young woman spat without missing a beat, flipping back some locks of her long black hair while mirroring Tate's own smug smirk. How could she forget about the incident that had put an end to their budding relationship? [color=C71585]"[b]Imagine[/b] being so pressed about who I choose to spend my time with after going behind my back throwing what we had out the window. And [b]imagine[/b] having the lack of common sense to show up to where I live to imply that I owe you any sort of explanation. I'm not your girlfriend, Tate. You made that very clear to me that day a few months ago. So whoever I fuck or don't fuck is absolutely none of your goddamn business. You have no fucking right to question shit.”[/color]

What a minx she was. He liked when she got all riled up because of him. [color=3041cb]“Is that so, [i]love[/i]?”[/color] Standing up straight, he took his right hand out of his pocket but instead of her keys, he had his phone in his hand instead. The one with the only number she had of his. Clearly, Stephanie forgot who she was talking to. 

Ah, but of course. 

Who would he be if he didn’t give her what she wanted? Tate heard her loud and clear. [color=3041cb]“I got one last one for you.”[/color] He waved his phone in front of her face, dangling it pridefully, sadistically, [color=3041cb]“Imagine a world—”[/color] No texts, no calls, no surprise visits, no sex, no nothing. [color=3041cb]“—where I’m gone.”[/color] Dropping his phone to the ground, he stomped on it with his dominant foot. Forcibly and only once, but enough to make Stephanie flinch. [color=3041cb]“Ricky can have you.”[/color] Purposely instilling fear in her, he smoothly bluffed, [color=3041cb]“And he’ll thank you later, for costing him his job.”[/color] 

With that, Tate took her keys out of his pants pocket, tossed it at her feet, and turned on his heel, leaving her behind. Whether she believed him or not was entirely up to her, he didn’t care. Tate could disappear completely and she would have no idea how to trace him. She [i]knew[/i] that. He could put all those she loved in danger, if he truly wanted to, like her dear best friend. She [i]definitely[/i] knew that. Last but never the least, he had all the power in the world to ruin Ricky’s life, just with the snap of his fingers. She just learned that. 

Spice was playing a dangerous game and she knew exactly what she was getting herself into, the day she met him. Without using his fingers, he whistled loudly and in came a Bugatti La Voiture Noire. One of Tate’s employees sat in the driver’s seat. As he opened the passenger door, he turned to look back at her and for a split second, his mask dropped and he showed a shed of conflict and withdrawal, before entering the vehicle and smirking once more, [color=3041cb]“Goodbye, Kitten.”[/color] 

The door closed.

For a moment, Spice simply stood there, mouth agape at the absurdity of it all. This man had [i]really[/i] driven over two hours to confront her about a relationship they didn’t have. The same man who had made it crystal-clear to her that they were not-- and had never been-- an item was really out here throwing a bitch fit, wrecking phones and making threats because he’d found out she’d moved on with somebody else. And, for a split second, Stephanie felt guilty about being the cause of his terrible mood with her actions.

But then that red-hot, blinding anger that always simmered underneath the surface of her being suddenly erupted, running down her veins like boiling lava. Who the hell did Tate Paxton think he was, anyway: coming out here demanding the faithfulness he wasn’t willing to give back, and making her feel like his appalling behavior was his fault. No, sir. It wasn’t her fault he was a deceiving pig who wasn’t able to keep it in his pants. And it wasn’t her responsibility to be loyal to a man like that.

Fuelled by the raging thoughts of how absolutely unfair this entire situation was, Stephanie knew she couldn’t let Tate go just like that. One quick scan of her surroundings led her to a particularly large rock nearby, and the goth girl suddenly knew exactly what she would do next. She bent down, wrapped her small hand around the rock, swung her hand over her head, and threw the rock in the direction of the luxurious car’s back windshield with all the strength she could muster.

[i][b]Crash![/b][/i]

The sound of shattering glass erupted through the otherwise quiet street, sending the neighborhood dogs into a barking frenzy. A few curtains from the houses nearby fluttered slightly open; nosy neighbors peeking out their windows with concern or curiosity over what they had just heard. But from Tate Paxton’s vehicle? No reaction. It drove away slowly and completely unbothered-- just like its owner had been when dismissing her as easily as he would a used Kleenex tissue.

And that fucking [i][b]hurt[/b][/i]

[color=C71585]“[i]I fucking hate you![/i]”[/color] Stephanie screeched at the retreating car, loud enough to potentially cause damage to her vocal cords but being much too enraged to care. [color=C71585]“[i]I fucking hate you, you arrogant, cheating piece of shit! I hope you run that fucking car of yours off a cliff and just fucking die already![/i] [b][i]FUCK YOU!!![/i][/b]”[/color]

But no matter how hard she screamed, the stupid Bugatti continued to drive away without a care in the world; leaving behind a sobbing, broken-hearted goth girl with mascara-covered tears of fury streaming down her beautiful face.[/indent][/indent][/color]