Spencer : Goosebumps

I am beyond excited. Ecstatic, if I may.

The newly rigged out '96 Mitsubishi Eclipse hummed patiently while I scoped out a lookout point with a stretch of parking bays, overlooking smoggy LA. There wasn't a person in sight, making it the ideal place to start improving my driving… er, racing skills. It was a far cry from my go-kart racing days.

More like, learn how to drive this thing, I chuckled to myself, feeling pure power surging through the engine as my black Converse tapped the accelerator. The whistling of the turbo gives me goosebumps every single time.

I silently congratulated myself for getting myself into this car… and situation…

I fiddled around with the sound system, stopping every so often after what I thought could be the perfect song for the day, but nothing seemed to still my racing heart. Low bass, excellent choice, but nah… Pumping beats, ooh, Armin van Buuren! Not today though… Open road song, Eve 6, hmmm… Mozart Symphony 40 in G minor … now that's what we're talking about!

I turned up the volume and took deep, steadying breaths, teasing the accelerator pedal lightly as I continued tapping it.

It was time.

Handbrake off, foot on clutch, hand on gear, I shifted into first and let go of the clutch. The transition was smooth as I pulled away; wheels spinning slightly, leaving a subtle layer of white smoke behind.

That's a couple of months off those tires, I thought cynically.

My heart beat hard against my chest as the tires found traction, the car picked up speed, and I shifted to second, double-clutching to keep the rev counter up high. Seconds later I was in third, then fourth – for a split second I lost concentration – and the car spun out.

It was both interesting and scary observing my surroundings in a 360 blur at quite a speed. When I finally got the car under control and managed to brake evenly, I hit the steering wheel in frustration.

"Shit!"

I still had a lot of practicing to do…

"Let me guess… Latte, no sugar, extra cold milk."

I tried not to stare – too much – at the very attractive brunette with chocolate brown eyes. I grabbed a stool by the counter and hopped on.

"Your coffee tastes awful, but yeah, I'll have one of those, thanks," I smiled. My stomach was doing flip-flops as I watched her make the most terrible coffee. But I didn't mind. I loved putting myself in these extremely awkward situations as long as I could just see this girl.

It was worth every second. Just a tad bit shorter than me, she showed off her tanned body by wearing a tight black tank top and loose cargos. Odd combination, but oh so beautiful on her.

Her dark brown curly hair wrapped loosely around her face, with a red streaked fringe falling over her eyes.

Yes, I observed – okay stared – as much as I could without leveling up to stalker status.

Wouldn't you?

Movement inside a back room in the small coffee shop caught my eye, and I forcefully diverted my attention to concentrate on a short brunette making her way to a mini fridge.

Kyla Davies, I mused. It didn't make sense at all to me how this beautiful goddess in front of me could be related to Kyla. They don't exactly share the same looks.

"Terrible Latte, extra cold milk," the brunette said, interrupting my thoughts. She pushed the coffee towards me and smiled.

Be cool, act cool, just be normal and say "thank you".

My own smile reached my blue eyes as I took note of the name scribbled on a napkin. Ashley… What a pretty name for such a pretty lady!

"So what brings you to this part of the neighborhood? You've been coming around for the past three weeks, putting up with shitty coffee every day," Ashley prompted, pulling me from my speechless stupor.

I chuckled. "It's not that bad." You're such a terrible liar!

Ashley laughed. "Could've fooled me. So what gives?"

Her raspy voice gave me goosebumps and rendered my brain even more useless than my vocal chords. I had to think fast to make up for my giddiness and my excuse of being here. "Driving lessons. Not too far from here." I nodded towards the red pickup standing outside. Really? Driving lessons? What are you, sixteen?

Ashley's eyes followed in the direction I was nodding, and then went wide. "You drive that thing? You don't seem like the type."

I blushed. She tried to put a label to me, already? My heart beat a tad bit faster than it did when I did that nauseating 360 spin twenty minutes ago. "And exactly what type do I seem like?" Stay cool, of course she's checked you out, you've been stalking her for three weeks.

Ashley seemed to think it over, and chose her words carefully. "Let's see… Pretty blonde, striking blue eyes, casual jeans, t-shirt, and," she leaned over the counter to look at my feet, "Converse shoes. And drinks terrible coffee." She chuckled. "I wouldn't pin you for a girl driving around in a pickup that belongs to a spares shop, you look more like a college freshman."

I felt terribly insulted. I frowned at Ashley, wondering if the brunette was maybe not as bright as she initially seemed. So who's been stereotyping now?

"I work over at Arthur's Raceway Stop. Help with the parts and go-karting," I corrected her.

"Oh," Ashley said, blushing. "I'm sorry, I'm not the best judge of character and – "

Our conversation was cut short as three modified cars pulled up while revving unnecessary. I turned around slightly and watched as two guys and a girl made their way into the shop. The girl instantly seemed upset and walked right up to me.

"Did you lose something here? Why do you come here every day?"

Green eyes stared down at my blue eyes. I refused to look away, instead I raised an eyebrow. Am I supposed to be scared?

I thought I'd said it out loud, but instead, Ashley's raspy voice filled the room.

"Madison, stop. She's just having coffee."

Madison scoffed. "Just having coffee? Or just hitting on my girl?"

Ashley sighed. "Madison, drop it, please?"

The green-eyed Latina girl didn't back down.

I clenched my jaw, and after a short internal battle between my childish ego and responsible self, I finally slid off the stool and walked outside. It was no use getting into a fight over nothing. Not that Ashley was nothing, but the last thing I needed now was trouble.

Madison ran after me. "Don't you walk away from me like that!" she yelled. Oh, watch me.

I reached the pickup and was about to fully open the driver side door, but Madison had caught up, and slammed the door shut. I turned around to face her, wondering what kind of expression was on my own face for her to scowl the way she did. I was just really a little shocked that this Latina girl thought she could come and threaten me. And maybe a little bit pissed off for ruining my moment with Ashley. To be honest, I was downright irate that she showed up in the first place.

"I was talking to you, bitch. Were you hitting on my girl?" Madison challenged me, her hand still on the door, effectively pinning me to the pickup. Oh God, lay down on the Tequila's lady. It's only 2PM!

I smirked despite the built up nausea in my throat after smelling the alcohol on Madison's breath . "What if I was?"

My cockiness earned me a slap in the face. Fuck! Didn't see that one coming!

I instantly lifted my arms in defense mode and gave Madison a good hard push. She stumbled backwards but her balance was good, and before I knew it she reached out again for another slap.

I was prepared this time, but merely blocked her attack and pushed her away again. Don't be too aggressive now, Spencer.

I was so focused on getting Madison away from me that I was completely caught off guard when the short but fierce Kyla Davies suddenly had a grip on my throat and pushed me back against the pickup. What the –

"She was in my face!" I exclaimed like the thirteen-year-old I just thought I was.

But this was not my mother stepping in to break up a fight between me and my siblings. A brief shiver of fear ran down my spine as I stared into cold, evil, brown eyes.

"I'm in your face," Kyla corrected me.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Madison took a chance to dish out another slap while Kyla still had her death-grip on my delicate throat, but was promptly pushed back.

"Madison! Relax! You embarrass me!" Kyla yelled. She turned back to me. "You don't belong here. I see you work over at Arthur's. Consider yourself fired. And don't set foot in my shop again," she threatened.

I swallowed hard, trying my best not to show how nervous I was as Kyla's grip tightened on my throat. Here it comes. She reached into my jean pocket with her free hand and fished out my wallet. She opened it and scanned over the driver's license. Just breathe. Act normal. Give your stupid smile like in that stupid photo.

"Spencer Wilson…Washington… Stay away from here, do you hear me?"

For the first time, my eyes left Kyla's, and I glanced around, noticing a handful of people watching us from across the street. Ashley seemed horrified at the scene unfolding in front of her. Then I stared at Madison, who looked ready to strike again, and finally my eyes landed back on Kyla, her stare indifferent, and frankly, quite scary for such a short woman.

Do people ever take you seriously when you're not so scary?

"Sure," I finally breathed out. Whatever, I'll be back tomorrow.

Kyla let go of me and I subsequently dropped to the ground. Wait, how – Kyla Davies had quite some muscle to keep me up for so long!

My wallet was thrown at me and a second later the Davies sisters and crazy Madison returned to the coffee shop, suddenly unfazed about the little incident.