A/N: Heeeeeeey! I'm back! This chapter has been ready since yesterday, but FF has been weird and not letting me post because they had some network issues? Whatevs. Here's a long ass chapter! ENJOY THE MILEVEN!


She wasn't going to lie, it was scary. From her place on the back of the bike, she watches the crowd, their faces bright and red as they yell their excitement, pumping their fists in the air and roaring away like an enormous pack of wild lions.

Her loose hair flutters against her face as her gut and mind scream at her to get down and run back to Max and the safety of the redhead's arms, but something inside of her pleads to be let out, to let the new adventure swallow her whole. For once in her life, El wants to be wild and surprising, to break free of the good girl cage her parents have raised her in. Also, the look in Mike's face after he sees her pull up with Troy is worth the fright.

He watches in silent anger as Troy pulls up next to him, his booted foot on the floor to keep his balance while El watches in pure awe as a Siamese girl snorts some white powder from the bike next to her.

Mike wraps the pink scarf he snatched from the brunette's neck around his right wrist, tying it tightly to prevent it from getting loose and getting in his way while the race is on.

El watches with a frown as Troy hands his helmet to one of his friends who had walked in between the bikes to take the item from Troy's hands, slapping the racer on the shoulder as goodbye. She eyes the rest of the racers and her heart sinks into her stomach as she notes how none of them are wearing a helmet, the thing that, you know, will literally prevent them from cracking their skull open and dying if they happen to have an accident.

She looks around and her eyes meet Mike's, who's watching her with a slow grin and intense eyes that seem to sparkle in the darkness of the night. She holds his stare for a few heartbeats, noting how his curly hair blows into the wind just like hers, and she breaks the stare as the girls start to get off the bikes.

She frowns, watching in confusion as they all stand behind the bikes. Wasn't the whole purpose of the Siamese races to ride behind the bikers? Why were they getting off? Nonetheless, El gets off of the bike after Troy throws a look at her, as if telling her to get off already so the race can start.

"BELTS OUT!" The announcer yells into the megaphone.

She stands behind Troy as the crowd cheers wildly, the other girls flinging the belts in the air or snapping them menacingly at the other girls to put some challenge in the air in behalf of their respective bikers. El just trembles as she catches sight of Max and Lucas, who are in the front, next to a curly haired guy who she finds somewhat familiar, a straight haired kid who puts his hands next to his mouth and screams out along with two other boys, cheering for the shaggy haired asshole who is looking at her over his shoulder. Mike's friends.

She moves when the other girls return to the bikes, and she stops when she sees that they're not getting on the traditional way, but backwards. She notices that her hands are shaking as she grips the sides of the bike to lean her back against Troy's, her legs dangling of the sides and her feet trying to find something to plant on, trying to find some leverage.

Troy reaches a hand back and grabs the belt from her, making her panic for a second before she notices Stacey doing the same, passing the belt around her and Mike, and buckling it against her stomach. Troy hands her an end, and then the other once he's inside the safety circle the belt forms around them. Her eyes meet Mike's over her shoulder as she buckles the belt tightly, squeezing herself tightly with it for extra safety, and he raises his right hand to rub her scarf to his nose, making sure she sees him sniff it.

She purses her lips and gives him a glare, which he answers with a wide grin, before he takes his attention from her to look in front of him, were the designated girls are already lighting the way.

Engines roar angrily as the announcer starts counting, and she feels the vibrations of the bike under her rattle her very heart, her stomach a mess as she clutches the part of the belt that is against Troy's stomach. She takes big gulps of air, feeling like her chest will collapse from the tightness, and as the announcer screams go, so does she.

She screams out as she feels the bike lurch forward, the cold air rushing strongly past her ears, hitting her face and making her hair tangle. She watches as the crowd runs to chase the bikers, screaming and cheering on for their supported racer, until they stop running and all she sees is Max's static face growing smaller by the second.

Mike's senses are sharpened, his ears and eyes focused on the path he has to take, on the way his bike vibrates with speed and the way his hands grip the handles tightly, everything under control for him to win tonight.

His main challenge, Troy, races head to head with him, both taking the lead easily in the swarm of racers trying to beat each other out, but none are a threat to Mike.

"C'mon!" He screams at Troy, Stacey securely behind him, and he pushes turns the handles of his bike to go faster, liking the way adrenaline pumps through his veins. His hair is pinned back by the air hitting his face, the curls pushed back and flying freely into the air.

El's throat bobs with her gulps, trying to swallow down the nerves and fear she's feeling, her eyes stinging with the rush of air hitting her face. She watches in shock as a biker starts cutting into another racer's way, trying to throw him off his game, and the she gasps in horror as he reaches a leg out and pushes the other racer off, throwing him off of balance and making him crash to the floor, along with the girl behind him.

"WHEELS UP!"

El screams again as the bike's front wheel is lifted suddenly, her body slightly dangling dangerously off of it, and she closes her eyes against the closeness of the pavement, the loud roaring of the bikes, the cold air, and the danger she got herself into downing on her.

Mike grunts with the effort of keeping his bike up, along with maintaining control of it and the fast speed he had been keeping, his breath coming out in huffs as Stacey smiles at the rush of it all, the danger licking at her feet, giving her the adrenaline she craved for.

El gasps as the bike fell on both wheels again, returning to its fast pace, but she closes her eyes again as the lighting girls point the neon lights at an upcoming curve, the sharp turn making El's stomach lurch again with fear.

"Troy!" Mike screams, lifting his front wheel again when they are indicated to, coming back from the sharp curve and speeding up as the final lap comes into view. "C'mon!"

Troy huffs, his sharp eyes stonily focused on the crowd of people who is still far away from them, marking the end of the race. El whimpers against her will when she feels the hum of the bike roar louder, gaining speed as Troy turns the handles to try to gain the upper hand. She can hear the crowd cheering loudly as they get nearer to the end, and she almost cries from relief as she spots Max's red hair and the tall dark boy that is Lucas next to her. She was beginning to feel at ease when all of the sudden, a bike stumbles a few spots behind them, the boy losing control of the handle and crashing down sharply on the ground.

With alert eyes, she watches as the bike falls on top of the couple, smashing them on the pavement and skidding away from them with loud metal-against-ground sounds. She gasps as she watches the girl roll around the floor, her head bleeding as she hits the ground multiple times, before she comes to a deadly stop.

"STOP! STOP!" El screams at Troy as she pulls her hands free from the belt, alerting the boy. "STOP!"

Mike frowns as El's frantic voice reaches his ears through the loud hum of his bike, the loud screaming of the crowd, and his own inner buzzing at the prospect of winning the race. He pulls on the brakes, a few feet away from the finish line but close enough so he can see his friend's faces as Max notices something's wrong with El.

"What the fuck?!" Troy snaps furiously as he stops a few feet away from the end of the racing line, El unbuckling her belt without a glance back at the boy.

She jumps down from the bike as she notices the girl isn't moving.

Abruptly, siren wails start echoing through the area, police red and blue lights coming through the entrances to the plaza, scaring the crowd away from the illegal races as they start running.

The boy who had crashed stumbles up, crawling towards his bike as a few people run to help the fallen couple. El looks around the mayhem and notices a few caught people, their hands in the air as police officers start running into the dispersing crowd.

Stacey springs away from Mike, running away as quickly as her heeled boots allow her, leaving him alone to stare around frenetically as he watches Lucas drag a screaming Max away, and the rest of his friends flying away from the scene. He ponders over racing away right now, or snatching El away as she runs to the fallen girl.

"Leave the bike and go help her, you asshole!" She screams at a boy who instead of helping the unmoving girl, begins to lift the yellow and battered bike from the ground, the owner lying next to it with gasps as blood runs down his face from a gash on his forehead.

"C'mon!" Troy yells at her as he looks around the chaos, but she ignores him and crouches down next to the girl. "C'mon, girl!"

"Don't move her!" She tells the few people who are around the girl as they start to grab her limp body. "Don't move her! Call an ambulance!" She hears Troy curse and then he's leaving, racing away and dodging police officers as they start to round up on them.

The people who were helping the girl sprint up, running away as an officer spots them, and El can only scream in fright as he grabs her arm, trying to pull her up as she eyes the hand cuffs in his belt, and she buckles against him to free herself. With a scream, she only succeeds in falling to the floor, the man leaning in to press her arms against her chest to pin her there as he fumbles around for the handcuffs, but suddenly he's kicked away from her.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, get on!" Mike urges her as he pulls up next to her, extending a hand out to help her up without getting off of his bike. A few photographers run around the scene, taking photos of the arrested racers, of the escapees and of the bikes, specifically, the license plates.

El hops on behind him, not caring if she pins his leather jacket down as she wraps her arms tightly around his middle. "Cover the plate, cover the plate!" He tells her urgently as he spots a photographer in their way, swerving a little to dodge his camera as El reaches behind her with an arm and flattens her palm against the bike's back plate. Mike blinks quickly as the flash of the camera blinds him momentarily, and he manages to dodge all officers even if they run to stop him.

He races away with El perched up behind him, her face against his back once they're out of the chaos, but an incoming police car presses on the breaks as the officer spots them, and Mike turns the handles to quicken their pace, speeding away as the car turns sharply, and begins to chase them.

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"Okay, hide here!" Mike urges her as they stop, miles away from the race scene, but closer to the bay.

She hops down from the bike, running to the brick waist-length wall that's built on the corner leading into the narrow road.

"I'll come back for you when I shake them off!" He yells over his shoulder as the sirens of the police car get nearer, and she jumps over the small wall before he races off, taking the bridge and pressing on the gas just in time for the red and blue lights coming in hot.

El lands on her stomach with a huff, wincing when her chest squishes a muddy substance, but she keeps quiet while she hears the wheels of the car crush some pebbles as they take the bridge too, chasing after the fast biker that has the lead.

She gulps in the air that she was holding, and then she stops trying to push herself up with her hands, noticing for the first time the fetid smell that her nostrils are receiving. Her eyes widen, her fingers clench and then she's wailing, sprinting up in one swift movement. "Ew, ew, ew, ew!" She grimaces, flinging her hands in the air in disgust as she feels her t-shirt stick to her chest because of the smelly dampness on it. She looks down and, even through the darkness, she can definitely make out the squished blobs of what she thinks is dog poop smeared all over her shirt.

She jumps over the wall, landing on the ground with a grunt, and starts wiping her hands frantically on the brick surface. The jagged texture rasps at her palms, but it helps to take off the smears of shit on them.

She hears a loud bark somewhere behind her, and with a yelp, she's jumping around the small wall again, landing on her knees and smearing the fucking poop all over the sleeves of her bomber jacket, hiding from the huge Rottweiler that had started running her way when it spotted her, no doubt the owner of the pile of literal crap she was laying on.

"Shit." She sighs heavily and resigned when her nose detects the awful smell again.

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The sound of his bike is softer this time, no longer racing away because of the dumb officers he had managed to lose. His eyes squint into the darkness, the bike slowing down to a stop under the lone lamppost on the other side of where he left her.

"El?"

Silence.

"El?" He says again, a fleeting thought of her being caught flicking through his mind.

"I'm here." He can hear her voice, but she's nowhere in sight.

"Where?" He frowns, looking around.

"Here." Her hand rises from behind the brick wall.

"What are you still doing down there? Get out, c'mon." His hands squeeze the handles on his bike, his eyes finding the scarf that managed to stay on his wrist the whole night.

"No," she still doesn't appear. "There's a huge scary dog out there."

"There's no dog here, El." He chuckles amusedly, looking around to prove his point.

"And I can't go out anyway."

"Why not?" He turns the bike off but keeps the light on, his eyes glued to the place her voice is coming from.

"…Because I'm embarrassed." She admits in a small voice.

He grins, killing the light in the process, the lamppost the only light source for his eyes now. "Alright, well, I'm leaving now then."

He roars the engine to life again, the loud sound nearly drowning her sudden panicky voice. "No! No! Wait!"

"What?" God, he really loves messing with her.

"…Promise me you won't laugh."

"I promise." His smile simmers down, but amusement is still all over his face as he waits for her to make her grand appearance.

Her fingers slide across the small wall, leading her palms to press on it as her smeared face finally pops out, along with the rest of her body as she jumps out of her hiding place. His amusement grows, his eyes ranking all over her in curiosity as he inspects the spots on her clothes and skin.

"What did you do, babe?" He really tries not to smile, trying to keep his promise of not laughing. "Are you covered in mud?" He straddles the bike with his feet on the ground to rise himself up, peering over the brick wall to see its other side.

"It's dog shit." She responds monotonously, lounging back with her elbows on the wall, looking way too cool for someone whose shirt was covered in animal feces.

"That's dog shit?!" Okay, he just broke their promise. "Oh my God, no way! This is too beautiful to be true!" He laughs, a huge (pun intended?) shit-eating grin splitting his face to show his pearly whites.

"I knew I couldn't trust you," she snaps, walking towards him. "Your promises are worth the same thing on me now." Shit.

"Hey, hey, hey," He grabs her arm, careful of not touching any smears on her jacket. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" He asks her, pushing her away from him, his face serious for a change.

"To get on the bike!" She frowns, staring at him with confused eyes as he crosses his arms across his chest.

"Are you crazy?" He stares back, his eyes dark and sparkling and he's so fucking handsome but such an ass at the same time, damnit! "You won't think I'm letting you on my bike while you're covered in shit."

"You're kidding." Her eyes widen even more than they naturally are, staring at him with a little bit of fear in them, but he's never left her behind, even when she was being a major Christ-the-redeemer-sized pain in the ass. So, being the amazing, courteous gentleman he is, he offers a solution.

"Look," he tells her as he gets off of his bike, removing his leather jacket. "I can lent you my jacket and you can cover up with it, but first you have to remove all those stinky clothes because there's no way in hell you're getting on my bike like that. C'mon."

She glares heatedly up at him, her cheeks flushed already, and she snatches the jacket from his extended hand, stalking away in angry stomps that make him laugh. "Oh, fuck!" He pinches his nostrils with laughter as she brushes past him, walking back to his bike and hoping on it while she stops a few feet behind, her back to him. "You smell disgusting!"

"Look Mike—"

"I like how that sounds…" He says thoughtfully, surprising himself when he finds it doesn't bother him when she calls him by his real name. "It's the first time you say my name."

"I swear if you turn around—", she cuts herself off as she slips her stained t-shirt off, careful of not smudging shit all over her face, and throws the garment on the ground, on top of her ruined jacket. "I'll jump on you and smear shit all over you and your bike. And I know how to keep my promises." Her skin erupts in goosebumps as her bare arms, stomach and chest are hit with the cold wind, her bra the only thing between her upper torso and the air. She turns her head as she unbuttons her pants, and is instantly exasperated when she catches him looking over his shoulder at her. "Don't look!"

"Oh, get over yourself," He turns his head quickly, a tiny smile appearing on his face at the thrill of getting caught. "I'm not interested in looking…" His hand reaches out to move one of the bike's mirrors lower, lower, there, just in time to catch her shimming out of her disgusting pants, the movement making her matching pink panties, god, slide down just enough for him to have a glimpse of the top of her butt cheeks.

"If you'd hurry up, I'd appreciate it." He simmers down while he takes in the silhouette of her body, fondly remembering the night they took a bath and he saw her for the first time. He takes in the curve of her waist, how it widens to meet her round hips and the shapely thighs, the long slim legs, and then his eyes go up her body again, taking in the thin straps of the pink bra around her shoulders that are suddenly covered with black fabric, and then he takes in how her ass still peeks through the hem of his jacket - god, his jacket—and then—and then she's turning around, her hands holding the leather close around her body; then her eyes find his through his side mirrors, and he can only advert his eyes as hers turn into a glare, fury clouding those Bambi orbs he's getting used to seeing.

"I told you not to look, you disgusting pig!" She thumps his back as she slips behind him on the bike, his shoulders shaking in laughter when, in spite of just chewing his ass, she automatically presses closer to him.

"Hey, I didn't turn around, did I?" He teases as he turns sideways so he can look at her face, finding her closer than he expected (still welcomed, though), and his eyes drop to her pouting mouth without his permission. "But I have to tell you," He really can't help himself. "You've got a great ass." He murmurs it, nearly bumping their noses together, feeling her breath almost mingling with his own, before she huffs, shoving his shoulder lightly.

"I would've loved smearing shit all over your face—"

"Shhh…" He interrupts her, holding a finger to his lips and then to hers, her eyebrows furrowing instantly, and if he really weren't hearing something, he would have taken more pleasure in the fact that she didn't remove his finger from her lips. "Do you hear that?"

"What?" She breathes against his finger, already distracted by him (Damnit, El!).

"There's the huge dog!" He raises his eyebrows, pointing at something over their shoulders, and that's when she hears the loud barking behind them. She turns around and gasps when she sees that Rottweiler from before running full speed towards them, its ears flopping against his head and he's nearing them.

"No! Run," She wraps her arms around him, squeezing him in fear as the dog gets closer. "Run! Let's go!"

He decides to mess with her a little more, revving the engine but not moving an inch from their place, enjoying the way she lifts her legs around his hips and tightens her arms around him, her frightened voice loud against his shoulder. "Alright, c'mon! Lift your legs or it'll bite you!"

"No! Mike, run!"

"It'll bite you!" The Rott is nearly at the back wheel when he finally pulls away, her scream mingling with his loud laughter as they race away from the angry dog that chases after them for a few feet before it gets bored.

It shouldn't feel this way. She thinks if she wasn't affected by his boyishness and handsomeness, she would absolutely hate him, like she claims she does. But if she's being honest (and with her own self, she has to), there's a part of her that never hated him; not even at the beginning and after the whole James thing.

When she holds him tightly as they race away into the night, as she feels his back contract with the deepness of his breathing, as she feels his head turn around a little to assure himself she's still secure, and as she feels herself be nothing but happy and serene and all kinds of words that can describe the amazing and calm feeling she's experiencing at that moment, she feels herself falling. She's not that obtuse to think it's love (he nearly drowned her, for fuck's sake!), but she's definitely attracted to him, she feels those damn butterflies her mother and Sara are always cooing about, she feels him pull at something inside of her, and that scares her.

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"Thanks for bringing me home." She tells him softly as she unwraps herself from him, leaning back enough to swing her legs off from the bike.

"So, I'll pick you up tomorrow?" He asks her, mostly joking as she begins to walk to the steps leading to the door of her house. "What time?"

"Sure," She turns around with a smile as he turns the bike off and hops off, walking up the steps to stand close to her. "And we can get chased by the police again."

"Of course." He agrees teasingly.

She gives him a final chuckle before she turns around with every intention of going inside her house, but he stops her with a tug on her arm. She turns around to teasingly tell him to fuck off already, but her words die on her throat the minute his eyes meet hers.

His gaze is dark and unmoving, his face intense. He tugs on her again to make her get down to the step he's on, their chests nearly brushing together. His hand trails down her arm to her wrist, and then he's holding her hand, the skin soft against his rougher palms. He brings her closer, her eyelids fluttering from his nearby position as their breaths now do mingle together. He watches her cheeks turn pink, splotches of crimson flushing her face and neck, and lower, made visible by her barely-existing outfit, and he starts to forget what the hell he was supposed to be saying when he decided to mess with her again. This girl… what is she doing to you, Mike?

Her scarf brushes the skin of her waist as he puts his hand there, under his leather jacket, and she will later admit to herself that in that moment she felt a gush of something somewhere, but for now, she settles with breathing harder, her lips parting as he gets impossibly closer.

"You were a very brave Siamese," he whispers in her ear, his hand now on her ribs and his thumb against the beginnings of her bra. "Are you going to report me?"

"Uh-hu." She replies breathily, words failing her as she lets herself enjoy the warmth and callousness of his hand against her soft skin, her stomach against his and his breath hitting her neck.

"Uh-hu?" He questions.

"Yeah."

"You sure?" His whispers are getting quieter, the moment growing even more intimate, and if she were in her right mind, she would've been a little afraid of someone catching them like this on the steps of her house; her wearing her underwear and his jacket, and him, a stranger (cute stranger, but still stranger for everyone else) standing there and nearly absorbing her into his pores. But she wasn't in her right mind at the moment, so who would judge her?

"You promise me?" He continues to whisper, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, which makes her skin erupt in goosebumps again, and she feels the pebbles inside her bra, and she can't help but close her eyes. He leaves her waist for her face, his fingers pushing her hair back to bare her ear and profile, leaving the place where her jaw meets her neck exposed. He leans down and presses his lips to the spot, her eyebrows furrowing in pleasure at once when she feels the warmth radiating from his mouth on her skin. His lips press against her jaw next, then to her cheek and then they trail little pecks to the corner of her mouth. Her lips hand open in anxious waiting and she wants something, anything to happen.

His heart is speeding up, his breathing loud like hers, and he feels arousal building up inside him just from the feel of her alone, vulnerable and soft and pretty and all kinds of beautiful, but he has to stop. He nuzzles their noses together, their foreheads against each other's, and he's tempted to give in into his urges and just let gravity do its job, moving half a centimeter to press their lips together in the hungry kiss they're both craving, but he's always been stronger than he gives himself credit for.

He leans back and watches her flushed face, her lips parted and dry, and her eyes closed while she waits for him to deliver, but he already feels the grin tugging on the corners of his lips and the rush of air that hits her mouth when he chuckles is enough to wake her up from her daze.

"Oh, El, El, El," he tsks, shaking his head as her mouth snaps closed and she glares at him, her pretty eyes full of fire (and not the good kind anymore). "I'm a pig, I'm an animal and an asshole, but you'd let me kiss you still." Her breathing turns labored again (and not the good kind either), her teeth clench and he can see the angry embarrassment ooze out of her. "You're inconsistent."

"And you're a dickhead!" She snaps heatedly, turning away from him and running up the steps in anger.

"You had your mouth open like a fish waiting for me to kiss you—"

She cuts his teasing with a good-earned slap, his head jerking to the side from the force behind it, and his cheek reddens instantly. "Oh..." He shakes his head once, brushing away the sting and he feels annoyed in an instant. "I want my jacket back now." He demands and that makes her stop.

He watches her shake his jacket off furiously, nearly tripping with it in her hastiness of taking it off, and then she throws it at him as hard as she can, hoping that it'll blow him away (impossible, but she can only hope) to the next street. How could she think she was falling for the asshole?

"Hey, fishy lips," His amusement is back, apparently, as she opens the door of her house. "Won't you kiss me goodnight?"

"Go to hell!" She hisses viciously, her lips pulled back in a snarl, and she slams the door closed behind her.

He chuckles to himself as he picks his fallen jacket from the ground, watching through the glass on the front door the way her hips move and her ass jiggles as she walks away into her house quickly.

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With careful and quiet footsteps, (stealthy like a ninja, Steve Harrington would've said) she walks across the hallway, pushing the door of her room open. She channels her inner bunny as she sprints on the floor, careful of not making the floor creak as she places her keys on her vanity and her shoes at the foot of her bed.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when a person abruptly sits up on her bed from under the covers. "El!" Max whispers harshly. El shushes her with a quick glance at her bedroom door, cursing herself for not closing it as Max reaches out to turn her bedside lamp on, illuminating the redhead's face. "I was worried out of my ass! Your mom came in and kissed me goodnight thinking I was you!" El breathes in, pressing her hands against her mouth in fear at the thought of her mother noticing her absence. "Why the hell are you naked?" Max frowns as she stands up, the covers tangling around her legs.

"It was M, right?" Both girls startle as Sara's head pops into her sister's room. "M took your clothes off." She giggles, bouncing her blonde eyebrows up and down as the pair of older girls shush her, making hand motions for her to enter the room and close the door behind her.

"Shut up! You're going to wake mom up!" El whisper-shouts at her, walking to pull her pajamas out from behind her pillow as Sara takes a seat on her bed, next to Max who's looking at her expectantly. "I'm going to shower."

She walks away from her sister and her best friend, walking inside her own bathroom and turning the lights on, glancing on the mirror to see the two girls staring at her.

"It smells like shit. Why does it smell like shit in here?" Sara asks Max, who sniffs the air and shrugs back at the blonde with a grimace.

El can't help but laugh, laugh and laugh even when both Max and Sara frown at her in the mirror.

That asshole.

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"Sorry," Mike says as he closes the door of her room behind him, taking his shirt off and slipping his shoes off as he eyes her back and the smoke coming from her. "I got held up by the police."

"That's bullshit," Stacey retorts as she stubs her cigarette on the ashtray by her bed, not bothering to look behind her as he slips on the other side of the bed. "I saw you go with that little stuck-up mouse." She blows the last of her smoke in his face as he kisses her shoulder, sneaking his hand around her black-panties-covered hip and rubbing circles on her stomach.

He lunges at her, taking her mouth in a lusty kiss as he flips her onto her back, pinning her arms over her head and grinding his hips with hers, taking his frustrations and previous arousal on her.

Stacey sighs in want, gripping his bicep as he kisses her neck, trailing her fingertips down his arm until she feels a soft material on his wrist. Mike distracts her with another kiss, rolling his tongue with hers as he keeps his eyes open, looking at El's scarf wrapped around his wrist, which prompts him to think of her throughout the night, not even caring if Stacey notices.

Little ugly-faced fishy.