It Starts With Him

17

The taxi slides seamlessly into the next lane, directly behind the cherry red convertible. Just by looking at the inhabitants, I can feel the wind in my own hair. As the wall in between me and the taxi driver goes up, all my confusion and uneasiness from minutes before seems to melt away, covered by my newfound excitement. Ace, however, though he has a new light in his eyes, still appears troubled. I scooch over on the seat and smile at him reassuringly, hoping it's enough for now. I want to talk more to him later about everything, but what makes me even believe he'll tell me another word?

Ace is the exact type of person I shouldn't be involved with. Someone who clearly has secrets that he refuses to share. But for some reason, I can't bring myself to turn away.

He smiles back at me, and I feel the taxi turn around the corner. As my head starts to shift to look out the window, something else catches my eye. As Ace shifts in his seat, his shirt rises from the waistline of his pants ever so slightly. He's quick to adjust it, covering up the few inches of bare skin that were on display seconds before, but he isn't quick enough. Before the fabric hides his skin, I catch sight of a bruise the size of a grapefruit on his stomach, just below his belly button. I glance up at him in surprise, but he doesn't meet my eyes.

He stares out the window unnaturally rigid as if every muscle in his body had turned to stone. The cab parallel parks behind the convertible, but I'm barely conscious of this fact, trying to process what I just saw. Before I can do anything though, Ace's arm shoots past me and points out my window. Instinctively, I look out and upwards, curious to see where we've found our destination. In bright green letters, with white light-up rhinestones on the border, the word: NIGHTSCAPE is plastered on the sleek black reflective building. I feel my chest swell in excitement but then deflate with disappointment.

Nightscape is one of the most well known night clubs in the area, always buzzing with life, the line outside so long that it wraps around the side. However, they only let eighteen-year-olds in if they're accompanied by someone twenty-one or older. And with Ace and I both being eighteen, we aren't getting in. I turn to look at Ace, my face fallen, but I see nothing but an empty leather seat and the traffic outside the window. I look around in confusion when my door swings open, Ace holding his hand out for me to grab. His silhouette is outlined by the blinding emerald green lights from the sign, and I find myself breathless and unable to move. He reaches down and grabs my hand from my lap himself, and pulls me out of the taxi.

Even if I don't know much about Ace, I do know that he won't talk about what I saw if I bring it up now. He's too stubborn for that. I try to push the mental image of the bruise to the back of my mind for later. I'll talk to him about it when I have the chance.

"Ready?" he asks me, his mouth right next to my ear. I shiver and shake my head.

"They aren't going to let us in. We're both eighteen," I explain, and Ace chuckles, gripping my forearm. He reaches inside the passenger door window and hands the driver some cash, and before I know it, the taxi is pulled away from the curb and speeding down the street. I scowl at Ace, yanking my arm from his grip.

"You better have that guy on speed dial," I snap and Ace rolls his eyes at me humorously.

"We won't need him," he counters, regaining his grip on my arm yet again. He pulls me towards the entrance, and I'm so annoyed that I don't even notice that he's totally avoiding getting in line altogether.

"No, you won't need him. I, for one, am ditching you and getting a one-trip ticket back to-" I stop speaking abruptly as Ace approaches the bouncer. He's huge, and I stare at his biceps, shocked his tightly stretched tee shirt doesn't rip from the bulge of them. Ace lets go of me now, and I watch as he hands the bouncer something. He takes it, looking at it with speculation. I step back a few feet. If Ace somehow gets in an argument with this guy, I don't want to be in punching distance.