It Starts With Him

15

Picture: Joaquin Earwood (One of the Outlaws)

"Until it kills me."

But what would kill him?

The rest of the drive is a silent one, one full of chaotic thoughts swirling around my mind. I don't even think about what we're going to eat or where he may be taking us.

Why does Ace feel so trapped here, so companionless? I've seen him talking to people all around here, so I know he has some friends. And he has me. I've hung out with him this summer more than anyone else. I look at him out of the corner of my eye.

But just like me, he knows that soon I'll be gone. But once the summer's over, where will I be? Since college hasn't been on the forefront of my mind since mom died, I assume I'll just be back in Madison wondering what to do next. I know I'll have to go - I want to go. So maybe a gap year is what I need to figure everything out.

But I'll be back home, and Ace knows this. And I'm sure all the guys I've seen him talking to will probably be leaving, too.

But that doesn't explain why he's trapped, or why he's a prisoner here.

"Why would you be stuck here though, Ace? What's keeping you?" I ask him, this time touching his forearm with my fingers. His muscles relax under my touch yet again, and that passion in his eyes that was once there returns. He glances at me, and I feel a flurry in my stomach. He shakes his head, his eyes locked on mine as if he's forgotten he's driving.

"It's just another thing I can't say," he whispers, a longing desperation in his eyes. He wants to tell me. I can see it. But it isn't enough. I retract my hand and glance at him with a saddened expression. I don't understand why he can't tell me. Is he just messing with me to get in my head, or is it really something serious enough to where I can't know?

Before I have time to ponder this even more than I already have, Ace moves into the right lane and pulls into a parking lot. He parks far away from the building itself, and I groan knowing we'll have to walk for a bit.

It's some expensive cafe I've never seen before, and I squint at it. "Your list says try a new food, but does a drink suffice instead?" he asks, and I think about it. "As long as it's worth it," I reply, and he smiles. "Well it's made out of cat poop, so I'm sure it is."

We walk out of the cafe nearly an hour later, laughing and play shoving each other as we make the short 4 minute walk back to the car. The moon is nigh in the sky above us, the rest of it black.

Ace had me try "divet coffee" which is apparently some sort of coffee made with coffee beans partially digested and then pooped out by a civet - a catlike creature. Shockingly, I didn't hate it. It tasted sweet and rich and well... expensive. And it was. It was $45 per cup, but Ace knew the owner, so we were able to snag it for free.

"So it was worth it?" Ace asks, a wide grin spread across his face. I smile. "Definitely," I reply, and we continue walking to the car. I can see it in the distance, but it's still probably a two minute walk from here.

We walk in silence, a quiet smile on my lips. Every time I hang out with him, I find myself drawing closer. More and more of me wants to spend more time with him, to know more about him. But then I tell myself to stop. I shouldn't get caught up with him if he has all these dark secrets he claims to possess. Mom always used to tell me to avoid things like this, and people like this. People who won't tell you things and have obvious secrets to keep.

So why is it so hard to stay away?

The night is quiet, the parking lot empty except for us. Just two souls wondering what will happen next. I give a downward glance at our hands less than a foot apart from the others.

Something bubbles in my stomach at the sight and raises into my chest. My heart leaps and I feel my hand reach out to touch his. A cool breeze swirls around us as my finger tips touch his palm. I see him freeze up in the corner of my eye, shock written on his face. But then he accepts my offer.

He intertwines our fingers together after a moment of hesitation, and holds my hand so firmly that it takes me a moment to process it. He holds it almost as if he's been wanting this; or almost as if he needs it.

The bliss of this small gesture, though, doesn't last long.

From Ace's back pocket, an intense ringing erupts, cutting off the silent atmosphere that was so prominent seconds before. Ace stops walking, so I stop with him. With his free hand, he pulls his phone out and glances at the screen, the back of it facing me.

An unreadable expression crosses his face, and his grip tightens on my hand. "Who is it?" I ask, trying to look at his screen. But before I can, he answers it. He slowly brings the phone to his ear, his face looking oddly concerned. He doesn't even have to say anything before the person on the other line starts to speak. I listen intently as the deep voice states, "Devyn King."

I feel myself freeze, and Ace's hand tightens even further to the point where it starts to ache. I squeeze his hand back. "Who is it?" I repeat. Ace looks at me, but says nothing. His face is cold, the dreaded expression back on his face - no emotion. I hate this look so much that I nearly let go of his hand, but his iron grip doesn't allow me. "Devyn King," the voice repeats, this time in a mocking tone.

Ace scowls and mutters, "Don't even try," between clenched teeth. He rips the phone from his face and hangs up almost immediately, so I'm still unable to see the caller ID.

Ace turns in the direction of the car and yanks me so hard I nearly fall. We run to the car, and I feel my chest fill up with fear. What's going on?

Ace releases my hand and pushes me into the passenger seat and in less than a second, he's in the driver's seat pulling out of the parking lot. We're on the main road before I can even ask questions.

"Who was it, Ace?" I demand harshly this time. He speeds in the direction of home, and shakes his head. "One of the Outlaws," he responds, a sickening sourness in his voice. "How do you know? You have their numbers saved?" I question. I grip onto the handle as he makes a turn a little too fast. He shakes his head. "No. It was an unknown number, but I recognize the voice from the night at the amusement park," he explains, and I lean back in my seat. He pauses for a moment, and then glances over at me.

"How do they know your name, Devyn?"

I say nothing. I was planning on never telling Ace about my wallet from that night. I knew the havoc it would raise and panic it would cause from him. Something about him causes him to be so deeply apprehensive of the Outlaws that it's almost abnormal. Any normal person would be careful to steer clear, but would any take it as far as Ace? Would any of them be so hooked on it like he is? I don't think so.

"How do they know your name?" he asks firmer this time, and I sigh in defeat.

"When we were on top of the ferris wheel, my wallet fell. I didn't think about it until afterwards," I explain, and he slams his hand against the steering wheel causing me to jump. "Dev, why wouldn't you tell me? They know everything about you now, this is dangerous Dev-"

I grip his arm. "I know. Okay? I know. But they aren't going to touch me. They have no reason to. I guarantee a group of drug dealers have plenty other things to do than trying to scare some eighteen year old girl out of South Carolina," I say with a hint of humor in my voice trying to take the edge off even though fear is bubbling in my stomach. I can't tell who I'm trying to convince more. Me, or him? "They have no motive," I add, hoping this wins Ace over. This, at least, I know is the truth.

But the way he looks down at his lap, his eyes filled with something - sadness? Culpability? - proves that he doesn't seem to believe this either.

"We just have to be more careful. Stay more in public; out of areas where there aren't many people," he says too quickly. "It'll all blow over. We just need caution."

"But we shouldn't be too cautious. I still want to live my life-" I start, but he interrupts me. "You can live your life and be cautious at the same time, Devyn," he says, and I can tell by his tone that it's the end of discussion.

He smirks, a small smile pulling at his lips. "I already know what adventure I'll choose next."