Miss Naughtie Two-Shoes and the Rebel

Chapter 5

Trae makes the slightest of movement, frightened to rouse Andy. He shifts his body half-way toward her and folds his arms with a dejected look on his face. A deep sigh rolls off his lips.

Only this morning, she was a complete stranger. And now she sits beside him in his car. After he almost maimed her and probably traumatized for life. He can feel the heat radiating from her presence as she's plopped in her bucket seat like a ragdoll, looking like a child in her sleep. Secretly, he basks in her warmth. Though he resists the urge to lean in any closer and drink in her delicate scent. For his breath may get lost in the tangles of her hair and disturb her well-deserved rest.

Her spirit is nothing he has ever met in his life–vulnerable and brave at the same time. And he plans to get the hell away from her, before it’s too late. For now, he will just have to wait until she wakes up.

The pattering rain on the roof of the car stirs Andy from her dreamy stupor. She shifts as if looking for a more comfortable position, but it’s too tight. Her skin relishes the wintry breeze, and the crisp, fresh, clean smell tickles her nose. The weather makes everything ten times better; she can probably stew some more.

Her eyes suddenly shoot open, and she bolts upright, willing herself into wakefulness. As the last fragments of sleep desert her, she becomes fully aware that she’s looking out to the front of her house from an unfamiliar vantage point. She whirls her head around to a nest of soft toffee-brown hair. Trae says hi with a yawn as he stretches his limbs.

“Oh, no,” Andy groans as she slaps her forehead with her palm. “How long have I been sleeping?”

Trae peers at the MMI display screen through heavy-lidded eyes. Half-dazed, he tries to process time, but without much success, so he just makes a wild guess. “An hour, I guess. Maybe longer.”

“You didn’t wake me up.” Her voice falters, rasped by sleep and laced with embarrassment. She slowly unfastens her seatbelt.

He rubs his eyes with his knuckles. “Yeah, scared to. You’re sleeping like a baby.” He turns off the ignition. “Wait here, I have an umbrella in my trunk.” Trae gets out and reappears by her side of the door, balancing a big, monogrammed umbrella in his hand.

She clutches her things to her chest and gets out of the car. The rain is still coming hard, and the stone-covered ground is almost completely soaked. Her cold skin prickles as showers of wind-blown rainwater hurl at them. Trae angles the umbrella against the rainfall’s trajectory and wedges his body between Andy and the torrent. Inching closer to him for dry space, her shoulder grazes his athletic arm. They half-run toward the house, the gravel grating underneath their shoes.

“I am so sorry for keeping you,” Andy says, spinning around to face him.

“It’s cool,” says Trae, noticing Andy’s drastic change in mood. He's still standing under his umbrella in the rain, half of his body damp by the sudden onslaught of the afternoon thunderstorm. “I think I haven’t said my apologies yet. Andy, I’m so sorry. You could have been seriously hurt.” Trae looks at her with a solemn expression on his face, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable.

Andy heaves a long sigh. “Just be careful next time."

When Trae doesn’t show any sign of leaving, she offers shyly, “Wanna come in for coffee? Tea?” They don't have tea.

His eyes light up, and he immediately follows her. “Coffee.”

“Have a seat and wait here.” She motions him to a chair on the porch. Andy disappears into the house. When she comes back, she’s holding two mugs of hot coffee, one in each hand, and puts them down on the table between them. She hands him one of the fresh hand towels slung over her shoulder.

“Thanks.” Trae pats himself dry with it. He waits for Andy to settle into her chair before asking, “Are you still in pain?” He picks up the mug close to him. A gust of wind carries the energizing aroma of coffee closer to his nose, and he instantly relaxes. He flexes his legs and takes a drink.

“Honestly, I am. And I think it’s going to get worse tomorrow.” Andy cranes her neck sideways and massages the stiffness from her nape.

Trae suddenly freezes. He could not pry his eyes away from the delicate lines of her white neck, and the soft curve of her jaw tilted at a very enticing angle. And when she speaks, his eyes trace the movements of her mouth. Something snaps within him. And then a dull aching, a hunger. It takes a while before he finds his voice again. “You should just skip school tomorrow. Call in sick. I can talk to your teachers.” He tries to sound as composed as humanly possible, because right now, so many things are happening inside of him all at once. And her effects on him are only growing stronger by the minute. He silently blames the weather for it.

“No need. I'll just take painkillers. I can’t be missing classes this early. I’m studying on a college grant.” She warms herself with the heat from the ceramic cup as she holds it with both hands. She blows the steam off the top and takes a sip.

“Oh,” he says in a hushed tone. He looks into his mug, lost in thought over the glossy ripples that skim the top of the coffee.

“How much easier could it be if you had a lot of money instead of just being smart,” she says, out of nowhere. As soon as the words leave her lips, she realizes its implication and suddenly curses herself. Her cheeks prickle with heat. She sounded so arrogant and snarky. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

“It’s okay. I completely understand what you meant.”

Andy takes a swig of coffee. How could he ever understand? He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Although she has no idea about the extent of their family’s wealth, she has preconceived notions he belongs to the top drawer. For one, money seems to be of no object to him as he so casually assumes the cost of reparations for her damaged bike. Also, he doesn’t go to body shops; he goes straight to the dealership to order for replacement. Lastly, he drives a car that seems out of place in the sea of mediocre vehicles at their school’s parking. He definitely is someone who can afford to go to Brent or Xavier or Harvey-Clark, for that matter–the city’s premier private college. Why is he in a state college partially funded by the government? She is tempted to ask, but thinks better of it.

“This is my kind of weather.” Trae interrupts her train of thought.

“Me too.” They live in the tropics, so it's either wet or dry. But it's four seasons, if you consider the very wet La Niña and very dry El Niño phenomena.

She looks outside, and the rainfall has started to dwindle. No longer drooping from the weight of the earlier downpour, the blooming bougainvilleas and the assorted calatheas in the front yard happily bob their heads to the beat of the steady drizzle.

She loves the rain. It cleanses everything and cools the sun-baked earth. She never was a kid to splash in a puddle or sail paper boats, but she loved to watch other children from their porch. And when it stops, it just glistens all around with a new freshness.

Any given day, she celebrates the gloriously gloomy weather with a book, hot cocoa and cozy socks. Right now, even her tired muscles do not covet the softness of her blanket. She seems to have found comfort in Trae’s company instead.

For a long time, they just stare into the scenery outside, framed by the square of the porch. The trickle of rain subsides until finally only the droplets of moisture from the leaves are what’s left of it. As if taking a cue from the erratic weather, Trae decides it’s time to leave. Albeit with a heavy heart, because he never knew he could find such peace and calm from merely watching the rain. Someday he’ll make sure to get a house with a porch.

“Thanks for the coffee.” He places his empty cup on the table at the same time Andy puts hers down, the backs of their hands gently brushing against each other. The feathery touch steals from the coldness of the afternoon. She feels so warm and so soft, and he longs to linger some more against her skin, if only Andy has not taken back her hand.

Andy’s cheeks flush with color as her hand falls back onto her lap. Has Trae felt the pleasant jolt of electricity, too? She casts him a shy, nervous smile. Trae finds her eyes, and she looks into his in a bold move. The intensity of his gaze sears deep into her soul until she can no longer bear its weight. She dips her head, then a moment of silence.

Trae starts to rise from his seat. “Are you sure you’re good for school tomorrow?” He eyes her questioningly.

“A hundred per cent yes.”

“See you around, I guess. And rest well.”

Andy nods him goodbye. She watches his tall frame and broad back as he walks toward his car.

She expects a sleepless night, but truth be told, she falls right into unconsciousness as soon as her back hits the bed, waking up only in the wee hours of the night due to a rumbling stomach. She forces herself to the kitchen, takes an ibuprofen with her food and collapses on her bed, not to be interrupted again.

*****

The early morning sunshine starts to seep in through the cracks of the windows, bathing the living room a golden glow. It is one of her uncle's endless superstitions to open the windows first thing in the morning to let in freely the sun’s first rays for good luck and the Lord’s graces. It’s probably one of the few myths that does have its merits: it allows for natural ventilation and lets in cool air.

Since she's always the last to leave, she's tasked to shut the jalousie windows, or else trouble. For one, a stray cat that has the habit of stealing their food. Somehow, it's mastered breaching the food covers. Next time, it'll learn how to open the fridge.

She has just secured the last window in the living room when she hears the burbling of a car pulling in front of their house. Shaping her hands into parentheses against the glass slats, she places her eyes between them to make out the blurred silhouette a red car. Specifically an Audi RS5 from the sleek lines of it.

What is Trae doing here so early? Still spying, she sees Uncle Chris and Trae meet in the middle of the driveway and exchange words. They shake hands, and Uncle Chris disappears into the garage. The red clunker that Uncle Chris loves to a fault then spills out into the driveway and onto the street. Trae waves a hand and heads toward the front door as soon as it is gone.

Uncle Chris is supposed to drop me off to school. And he just left without even saying goodbye, she hisses under her breath, indignant. She draws the curtains and makes a quick trip to the bathroom to check herself in the mirror. She's brushed her teeth already, but she takes a swish of mouthwash for good measure. With bated breath she waits, and a huff escapes her lips when she finally hears the soft rapping on the door.

“Hi,” says Trae shyly. His boyish good looks can certainly knock the breath out of any teenage girl, but she wills herself to act unfazed. His heavenly smell though is another matter. She can’t bring herself to stop sniffing the air between them.

“Hi, what brings you here so early? I see that Tio has left me without a word. You have anything to do with that?” She c***s an eyebrow as she interrogates him.

Trae puts his hands deep in the back pockets of his pants and shifts his weight between his feet. An errant strand of hair falls into his eyes, and he tries to shake it off from his face. Failing miserably, all he manages to do is to look cute and charming. “Well, I asked his permission if I can drive you to school. He said yes. I think I might just have earned his trust when I drove you home yesterday unscathed.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Andy insists, rather weakly.

Trae drops his hands to his sides. “I want to. To make up for the inconveniences I have caused you. Just let me, until your bike’s fixed," he says, his words infused with determination. He gives her an earnest look, enough that her resolve melts.

“Are you sure Chloe won’t mind?”

Trae straightens up, his eyebrows knitting together. “Chloe? Why would she? You know what, let’s get in the car right now and continue this interesting conversation. I don’t want to be late for school and so do you.”

They walk toward the car wordlessly. Trae is about to open the door to her but she motions against it with a smile, as if to say 'I’m a grown-ass woman who can open my own door, thank you.' She gets in the car, and Trae climbs in behind the wheel.

They’re already sailing into the busy traffic when Trae says in a teasing tone, “So, I wonder what assumptions you're toying with that made you think that Chloe would mind me driving you around.” He throws her a sideways glance. “But let me guess. You thought we're an item?”

“Uh-huh,” Andy hums, trying to sound as casually as she can.

Trae lets out a chuckle. “Ok, to set things straight, we're absolutely not dating. Chloe is my cousin on my mother’s side. We grew up together and attended the same schools, except college. Still friends to this day. Also… I don’t have a girlfriend.” They weave through the traffic seamlessly as Trae proves to be a very deft driver.

Embarrassment suffuses her cheeks with color. She should have asked Chloe when she had the chance, so she wouldn’t sound like a nosy person in front of Trae. But Trae being single, as good- and expensive-looking as he is, is quite a shock. It's a revelation.

“Are you a freshman? I haven’t seen you in school before.”

“Yes. How about you?”

“A Computer Science junior. I’m working on a couple of apps right now. Maybe Mark Zuck my way out of college.” There’s something in the way he said it that convinces Andy that he is serious.

“Go big or go home,” Andy cheers.

Soon they’re entering Robertson Valley, and as they pass the droves of students spilling in from all directions, rushing for their first-period classes, heads literally turn to her direction, squinting through the dark tint as they try to recognize her. An alarmed expression emblazoned all over her face, she turns to Trae who seems unmindful of the attention they are attracting. Realizing that he must be dealing with the curious looks on a daily basis and has grown immune to it, she sinks further in her seat and calms herself.

Trae slows down as he searches for a vacant slot, slinking his way through the tight driveway between the rows of cars. He swivels his head around to look behind as he reverse parks, and he catches Andy slouched deep in her bucket seat like melted slime, the top of her head level with the dashboard. “What are you doing?” He asks and laughs out loudly at her comical position, unable to contain his amusement.

“Trying to be invisible?” she says, blowing disobedient wisps of hair out of her face. “God, what are you? A local celebrity?”

“It’s the car, not me." Trae deflects the flattery by blaming his cult status on his car.

“Thank heavens for the tint,” she mutters under her breath. When the car comes to a complete stop, she carefully opens the door and crawls out of the car. "Bye, Trae."

“Hey, wait.”

She circles around the back of the Audi facing the red-brick wall lined with Yucca plants, crouching low as she covers a safe distance from the Audi. She blends in with the mob of students and heads toward her building.

Sandwiched within the tight space of his opened door, his one foot still inside of his car, Trae looks around but could not find even a shadow of Andy. “Where the hell did she go?” he asks aloud, scratching his head.

Unbeknownst to them, someone has been glaring at them with eyes wild with fury from her Honda Civic, parked only two cars away from Trae’s. She’s been driving directly ahead of them earlier and has been watching them fiercely through her rearview mirror. Also, she witnessed Andy as she skirted the wall and ducked her way out of the carpark.

“Pathetic!” Kelly hisses, her jaws clamped together and her hands clenched into fists. She returns her blazing gaze toward Trae and screams at him, “How dare you, Trae! How dare you!” Knowing fully well he could not hear her.

With her eyes closed, Kelly fills her lungs with air, fluttering her fingers like butterfly wings up and down in front of her face, as if harnessing the oxygen around her. Then, she exhales loudly, as if to expel the rage-tainted waste out of her system. When she opens her eyes, she is calm and composed. She fumbles around her bag. Then she quickly swipes her lips with some rouge and spritz perfume in the air and bathes in it. Staring at the overhead mirror, she bares her pearly whites and practices her smile. When Trae passes by her car, she eases out of the car.

“Hey, Trae! Wait!”