Author's Note: I tend to think through each chapter diligently as I'm piecing them together, but I also try not to ramble on. I hope continue giving each of you something to look forward to during each update. This story is supposed to be slow, I think it's a good way to capture the feeling.

Melise's name is pronounced like 'Elise/Elease' with an 'Mmm' in the beginning. The pronunciation and dialect of the 'Mel' syllable can be said like 'MEL' or 'MAL', depending on how one see's fit.

'meh-LEE-s'

'mah-LEE-s

I doubt Melise would run anyone over if they pronounce it either or.

Chapter 12 : 'Simple Things'

"Beg pardon?"

"You heard me," Jackson replied, he pointed at 'Peaches' again, "her."

Quincy stared her down one last time. The convertible was minding her business, eyes wandering the gathering inside. She was next to Shannon Spokes, the well-known RSN reporter, who was conversing with a Civic, also donning the RSN logo beside his fender. The two were chit-chatting, leaving the girl out of the conversation.

The forklift bee-lined through fans and racers alike, past a smirking SUV bartender, and to the lonely convertible.

When she caught sight of Quincy, Melise immediately felt nervous. Despite the darkened environment on the roof venue, she wouldn't miss those bold letters of '2.0' on sleek black metal. She remained composed, keeping her eyes on him, as he returned a smile to her.

"Greetings, Miss," Quincy began, attempting to sound like a savvy businessman.

"Hello..." she reversed slowly, eyes trained on him. Fans lined up behind the red rope turned their attention to the exchange between the two.

"I'm here to give you the deal of a lifetime," the forklift continued, grinning, "to personally meet Piston Cup champion, Jackson Storm!" Quincy became confused upon seeing the girl's windshield form an alarmed expression. She had already made up her mind.

A few fans began hollering, wishing for the chance to even get this close to the race car.

Melise was not expecting this attention. The last thing on her mind was conversing with the same guy whose engine revving was as loud as a jet plane, and saw her fall in the fountain bed.

In fact, the matter wasn't just awkward-ness associated with seeing Mister Storm, but among being socially awkward and in front of cameras... and Jackson Storm was staring at her, and random cars were all around the place- and Jackson Storm was staring at her, and there were no more meatballs, and Jackson Storm was staring at her.

"I have to go," Melise whispered suddenly, her eyes following the hallway as she made a turn away from Quincy. She began cruising away, Shannon waved 'bye' to her, then continued her lively chat with the other reporter, indifferent to the events she missed.

"Hey! Wait!" Quincy shouted from the red roped entrance, "Storm doesn't bite, and he's not as dumb as a dump truck!"

Jackson, watching the display from outside, sported a confused look on his hood. He couldn't hear a thing over the loud fans left and right chasing racers, but he heard Quincy's nonsense when 'Peaches' rolled away.

The racer's expression cooled down to it's natural state, and Jackson surveyed the roof. Among the sunset setting behind skyscrapers as tall as the hotel– or taller in the distance, he noticed a back exit, probably a discreet exit for racers.

Storm accelerated through the exit doors, scanning the new room he was in. Some forklifts pushed a cart of fancy beverages into the venue, passing the racer with a smile. The room looked like the interior of a empty banquet hall. Jackson left the room quickly, soon finding the hallway leading to the red-ribbon entrance. He didn't bother turning around to address the hooting fans caged behind the rope, watching him in the distance. If this hotel had fountains, he knew where to go.

When Melise reached the bottom of the intricate ramp, the main floor, she began to cool down. Taking a breath, she sucked in her bottom lip, and closed her eyes. Hopefully those fans at the door would get the 'Deal of A Lifetime'.

Melise began reversing, and felt her bumper crash into the metal of another car. Her oil pressure skyrocketed.

"Uh, hey," a familiar, yet instinctively annoying voice answered, "you alright?"

Melise accelerate and turned quickly, facing him head on. It was Tony, his pals awkwardly staring on as they rolled forward towards the two. They must've finally arrived at the hotel.

"Sorry, and..." Melise began, trailing off as she caught sight of a field outside of the windows along the wall behind the twin ramps. The colors were almost invisible behind the huge curtain flowing in front of the panels. On the grass outside colorful floodlights glimmering through hues on the color spectrum. It looked, fascinating.

It was also a great hiding place.

Her eyes turned back to the car in front of her, his face looked star struck as he, and his friends stared at something that must've been by the ramp, perhaps the giant royal purple curtain between them. Melise cruised past the boys, and headed outside the main entrance.

Watching the traffic pass on the road, she headed through the lot, and around to the side of the building, where she saw those capturing lights. It took a cruise through some dark overhangs before luminous solar lamps lit up the scenery. Melise's eyes lit up, it wasn't a field, it was a garden or a park of some kind. She cruised forward, soon finding a cruise-way cutting between the patches of grass changing colors.

Passing each lamp, Melise studied the designs of abstract glass-blown patterns, each different colors- some many colors.

The light was a simple white bulb that faded on and off in unison with the others, giving an illusion of colorful fireflies adorning the darkness of the park.

Reaching the middle of the park, Melise noticed a large structure, appearing to have a roof, it took a moment before she realized it was a gazebo.

"Why didn't they have the venue here," she murmured to herself, catching sight of the purple and pink fading colors of the sun on the horizon from the inside of the gazebo.

Jackson kept his headlights off, they weren't much use besides disturbance of the sanctity of the place. He watched her, from the distance of the cruise-way and the gazebo she found herself inside. Her eyes twinkled as she watched the sunset. When a steady breeze whisped by, she blinked and pursed her lips as some stray leaves passed over her hood.

She looked happy– that genuine happiness some cars were lucky to have. Some cars loved getting wasted, others loved racing, then there was her, she was happy... in a garden? Jackson's eyes became narrow and squinted. 'Peaches' was interesting.

"You know," Jackson said aloud, his expression a small smirk, "I've never had a fan run away from the grand opportunity of meeting me."

Melise turned, startled. Her headlights flash on shining light on Jackson Storm beside the gazebo, watching her.

"Hey," he said simply. Her face relaxed, and she accepted his presence.

"I'm not really much of a fan..." she trailed off, realizing her patronizing words.

"I mean, I just don't follow rac-"

"It's no problem," Jackson replied catching on to her innocent comment. He kept his short comfortable distance from her.

With the uncomfortable silence growing, Melise looked back to the purple glow of the last pieces of sunlight in the distance.

"What was your name again?" He suddenly asked, his eyes trained on her.

"Melise," she answered, smiling gently.

"Huh, right." Storm answered, his face still resonating little emotion past the smirk he had earlier. She looked away, back into the distance.

"The sun looks pretty," Melise said quietly, Jackson raised a lid and glanced up, seeing the night sky and some stars. He turned back down to her, seeing a zoned out look on her front end. "I meant, night!"

Melise began waving her tires in defense. "The sunset! The garden, or park... I mean... I should stop talking." she murmured. Jackson's face showcased a world of amusement and confusion. He smirked when she hung her hood in embarrassment.

"You mean the solar lights? Outdated decorations to market this place?"

"I think they're nice," she replied quietly, sucking in her bottom lip. Jackson gave her a indifferent frown.

"First a fountain, now a garden," the race car's rising voice cut the ambience of the environment, "you know, it's getting weird." The last part of Jackson's sentence coming out in a flat statement.

"What's your purpose here?" He asked.

Melise stared back, her face completely neutral. "I work for the Piston Cup Series, as an oil runner." she answered, thinking through how lame the titled sounded off the tongue. "I don't really get to see these things," she stretched her tire to emphasize the beauty of the garden.

"An oil girl?" Storm replied, squinting and thinking it through. Melise smiled when she saw his emotions coming out.

"An oil handler if you want to give it another name. We carry oil to the pit crews, then the racers use it."

Jackson nodded his hood, understanding, the stern look back on his hood.

"So you're to thank for my oil arriving on time during each pit." his voice sounded like he was surprised she had done it, "hm..".

"Your friend said you were giving away the VIP package to me," Melise giggled, "what was that about?"

"He's a crew member, and you're getting it," Jackson answered simply, "You' got ten minutes up close with a real winner."

He rolled forward, his wheels rolling over the chips of decaying wood onto the gazebo's flooring. Melise reversed slightly, keeping the space between them.

"Right fender, or left?" Storm asked, as she presented him a confused look upon her hood.

"Wha?" She studied him briefly, noticing he was a lot bigger than he looked few feet away. Storm's tires were twice the size of hers, his frame, more sharp and sturdy than she had witnessed on the older racers. His cool expression made him seem more mature and stoic.

"I'd get you a picture, but there's no one else here." Jackson came closer and began scribbling on her left fender.

He admired his work briefly before reversing off the gazebo. His eyes trained on hers as his smile remained in place.

"You're missing your party... again..." Melise said, sounding melancholic.

"I'm heading back there now," Jackson replied, his tone sounding bored with the thought, he didn't dwell further. Melise figured his life was hectic, he must've been tired of screaming fans.

"You shouldn't stay out here alone," the racer said as he began driving back to the hotel on the cruise-way. The blue on his sides less luminous than the solar lights around him. He abruptly turned on his headlights.

"I don't like parties either," Melise murmured, she heard Jackson slow down, and looked up to see his expression seemed surprised. He looked like he had heard something interesting for the first time in his life. His face soon became it's usual cool look after some blinking.

He soon drove off, his engine hums fading away as he seemingly to drove slower. Melise's hood kept a look of surprised confusion, did she say something strange? She thought over the sentence, finding no flaws in her grammar.

This was the second time around, but thankfully, it turned out better than the first time she encountered Mr. Storm. He almost seemed relaxed, but he had to be around other cars often as a professional race car, perhaps it was just him. He seemed real.

Melise decided to hang around the garden once more, why was it always these peaceful places? First the fountains, now a park, perhaps a lagoon was next.

At least she had a souvenir for her grandfather: her left fender.

I know the story seems to be hitting dead ends, I assure you there is a plot set out. It's quite long.