VANILLA, BABY • KENICKIE

ELEVEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN - OH NO
Smut ahead baby

The school car park was nearly empty, the autumn light fading as the last of the students filtered out. Ducky stood by the curb, arms folded and her heel tapping impatiently against the pavement. Frenchy was supposed to pick her up but obviously, she had forgot. Frenchy did have a lot on her mind, she had a beauty school interview across town so maybe she just forgot. Her own car had broke down a few nights ago and her daddy hadn't had it fixed yet but he said he would this weekend and it wasn't a big deal as Frenchy had her car.

Ducky hated it, standing alone with no car, no ride and no plan.

Across the lot, laughter erupted from the T-Birds. Kenickie leaned against his car, cigarette glowing between his fingers, talking with the guys. Ducky clenched her jaw, debating.

She didn't want to ask him.
She didn't want to owe him anything.

But as the lot cleared and the silence grew heavier, the words slipped out before she could stop herself.

"Hey, Nicky!" she called, her voice sharp

His head whipped around and dropped his cigarette, he muttered something to the boys and told them not to wait up. In a few strides, he was in front of her, eyes narrowing in that way that used to make her heart flip.

"What's wrong, Ducks?"

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms tighter. "Could you give me a ride home? French isn't here and I'm not walking."

"Of course," he said without hesitation, jerking his chin toward the car. "Come on."

She walked close beside him, her leather jacket brushing his arm. The familiar scent of smoke, oil, and leather wrapped around her like a memory she didn't want but couldn't shake.

For once, he kept quiet. He didn't mention Jack, didn't poke, didn't tease until they reached the car. Then he glanced sideways, his voice dropping low.

"Listen, I overheard Jack talking to Annette. He fucked her last Friday night."

Ducky froze mid-step, then shrugged, her tone clipped. "Oh, it's okay."

Was she not good enough for anyone these days?

"Yeah, but still," Kenickie said, frustration tightening his voice. "He shouldn't have done that."

She yanked open the passenger door, sliding in without looking at him. "I think I'll survive, Kenickie."

The engine roared to life, and the two of them settled into a heavy silence.

But in the quiet hum of the ride, something ached in her chest. She had missed this, missed the rumble of his car beneath her, the way he drove like the world belonged to him, the strange comfort of being next to him without having to speak.

She hated herself for it. But God, she had missed it all.

The car hummed beneath them as Kenickie shifted gears, headlights cutting through the early evening. Ducky sat stiff in the passenger seat, arms folded, biting her lip until it almost bled. She hated the silence, hated how much it reminded her of every ride they'd taken before everything went to hell.