author's note: thank you for continuing to tune in, I've been well, busy, but well. I hope you are doing great, please review, tell me what you think!
warning! lots of fluff in this chapter!
Waves of cobalt blue set the scene, keeping moods tuned to each car in the trailer, respectively. For Storm's persona, the atmosphere was benumbed. He needed it, or so Melise could tell. She was observant, and the fast lane attention wasn't a desire he had— at least, since his A-level status in the racing world took hold. Jackson liked things quiet.
Another miniscule peek his way revealed more she could piece together about the mysterious racer's personality. To some, his grey glance was astute, nothing else. His eyes were closed now, either resting or relaxing, she couldn't really tell. It was when Melise felt the frigid air conditioning through the trailer, with cold shivers that kept her waking up with a freeze, that she could guess he was likely just relaxing in silence. She sucked in a breath and released a soft and quiet burr in discomfort. His eyes opened briefly, and then he closed them, minding his own business once more.
The trailer was freezing. Also dynamic and interesting, yet the chill kept Melise from exploring with her eyes, falling tired with the air. She could do nothing but sleep at the end of this wild day. Nonetheless, her better judgement in a new place kept her aware with a dwindling alertness.
That was one of the differences between him and her— where Jackson's aesthetic kept him jaded and grounded, it made her weary and dreamy. A peaceful chi they could share.
Melise opened her eyes only a smidge, finding the sweet snooze had given way to a drowsy drunkenness. She could shake off the cold later, and outside was likely hot and humid anyway.
Rain drops tapping on the roof was pleasant. Things remained blurred under the misty lighting, and her eyes found themselves trailing from the ceiling down to him, still parked in front of the exit. Jackson was blear mass of grey and glowing azure. She was so tired and satisfied, it was long yearned for. This was a good kind of groggy, but a new environment proved little in keeping her nerves down, especially when he was right there.
A deep exhale from him, clearly on purpose, caught her attention. He shifted his cab slightly to his right, leaning on his dominant tire. He didn't move again, nor did his eyes open, still she could "feel" him keeping an eye on her.
Melise sunk into the carpet, tires sprawled. Despite the uncomfortable chill conditioning the air, she found her eyes half open, and a sweetened once over of Jackson to pass her time. He was mostly still, but slight, natural movement— rocking his tire in very subtle, slow left to right turns, kept him from looking like a stoic masterpiece. His mouth, she felt a warm chill wash over… There was an emotionless arch, he was handsome-ly put together. Sometimes, his mouth was pursed, but only for a moment, then he let it fall back to his usual, mature indifference.
"Do you want the trailer warmed up?" his sonorous voice vibrated her world. Melise bit her bottom lip, listening to the unmoved car in front. Jackson's voice had an enchantment on her as of lately.
"Why is it so frigid in here anyhow?"
He took a moment to exhale deeply as he opened his eyes, "Keeps me relaxed. I gotta chill someway." A light stretch of his axles followed.
Melise drowned in his voice, he was so down to earth now. If only Emla could see this… if only everyone.
"I guess you don't like the temperature, you twitch in your sleep," Jackson observed the rosy embarrassment suddenly etch her features.
She tittered a nervous laugh, waving her tires in dismissal, "I don't twitch!"
Jackson gave her a softened quizzical look, "Yeah, only when you're sleeping."
Melise chewed her bottom lip, looking away coyly, "Well, it's cold in here."
Storm turned his tires, resting his weight on one side. Continuous tapping of rain water on the roof gave Melise a serene reason to sigh. There was nothing that could interrupt them.
"We've still got time," Jackson replied coolly, "Did we ever have that talk? You know, the one we were supposed to have after my venue?"
Melise blinked and sighed, "You mean after your gala party? The one where I was dressed like…" she muffled her mouth with a tire as recalling the encounter and it's silly nature brought amusement. Jackson's half-closed eyes became somewhat pleased listening to Melise's sweet laughter. Good thing she considered that confrontation a fond memory now.
"Yeah, when you stuffed your mouth full of candies and tried to one-up me," he met her eyes with easy confidence, "All while wearing a Halloween costume." Jackson's expression, once laced with banter, became stoic, "Listen, sorry about that— you know, the fight we had. Not good for our image."
Melise slowly removed her tire from her mouth, astonished, "Oh, well, I'm also sorry, for causing a scene, showing up uninvited, and…" she sucked in her bottom lip, looking elsewhere as she thought of more unrelated insecurities.
"You didn't cause a scene, Peaches, rest assured. But thanks for being on good terms," Jackson remarked. Melise gave a single nod.
Briefly, she drew imaginary shapes into the thin, trailer carpet, listening to the silence ensuing. He could tell she was thinking. "Jack, you mentioned, 'our image'," the Honda looked him in the eyes, "What do you mean?"
Storm studied her, grey eyes moving slowly around her hood, "A few things. You and your photo gigs, you're representing IGNTR with that, so welcome to the team. Fighting is bad press or whatever they call it. And then there's this," he looked her up and down, "We've got something going on here."
Melise noted his wording, "we aren't friends much, are we?" she recalled their romantic escapades before.
"Friends don't kiss each other," Storm stated the obvious. Melise rubbed her lips together, some nervousness creeping in, "What do you think about, us?" she asked.
Jackson exhaled. He looked at a spectrum of indigo light fading and reappearing on the ceiling above Melise. The transition of 'IGNTR: Liquid Adrenaline' changed to '2.0' and looped.
"Not sure how you see it, but I think you'd be better off on the sidelines. Leave all this fast lane stuff behind."
Melise's hood crinkled in confusion, "You want me to give up?"
Storm's calm face didn't falter, "You and I both know you look better without mods or fakeup."
"I can make up my own style or image, or something! Nothing great ever came easy! I can do it! I know if I try hard enough!" the convertible protested. Jackson was quiet, he looked her over with poise, "So you finally decided to change, huh?"
Her demeanor softened, "What?"
"Finally blossoming… " his tires rolled towards her, and she blinked, soon feeling the softened, malleable metal of his cheek against hers. The trailer hadn't much space for two mature sized vehicles that wanted to be closer to one another, but his presence alone was enough of a prize for Melise. She cuddled closer, inhaling the fresh scent of his premium wash. She could forget about the chill like this, especially when it was slowly getting easier to be unnerved around him.
"You know…" Melise whispered, "you never answered my question."
"We're still talking about this?"
He felt her nod. Jackson sighed.
"Do you want to know what I think?" she mused quietly, "I think you want the success of the fast lane," she snuggled closer, softening her already soft voice, "but you want a girl in the slow lane."
Melise felt him exhale deeply, as if he was depressurizing. She was no fool when it came reading emotes. Jackson would likely never speak his aloud, but his ideals were clear.
She wouldn't pester him further, they both ought to be asleep by now. But Melise was a night owl, and this kind of peace in mind was going to be a good memory one day. She listened to the rain some more, briefly seeing shadows of palm trees grazing the windows. Sabal leaves rolled past small rivers in the cracks of asphalt, strung about in the windy downpour. Florida was subtropical, and these rainstorms were beautiful… at least to an outsider.
Jackson didn't care, he ignored it, was used to it, maybe…
"Does it rain like this in Los Angeles?"
He opened his eyes lazily, looking outside, "Huh?" Storm exhaled, "Uh, yeah… "
Melise held back a sweetened smirk as he closed his eyes again, falling into her fender. She softened her tone some more, noting his fatigue.
"Now you're sleepy? If you wanted to cuddle, you could've told me, Jack." she snuggled closer, and he murmured something she didn't have to understand. A champion needed his sleep, and so did she.
Cicadas buzzed their natural morning hymns, and a breeze rustled hibiscus bushes, casting a branch of shadows in the trailer. Melise was awake by now, and the woozy, drunkenness returned. She was ecstatic, heavily content.
Jackson felt her stir against his fender. Her cheek caressed his sharp angles next to his headlight, and she settled with a small, sleepy moan.
He'd been awake for the last half-hour, assessing his daily goals since Ray hadn't much gall in contacting him. The crew chief had stuff to do, setting the team's schedule and ordering in slicks for the 500. Jackson just needed to make it all count— simple.
That could wait another hour…
"Morning," his voice came in satisfaction. In some part of his mind, he wondered what he was doing with this convertible in his space. Months ago he would've never indulged in this sappy stuff, and the very thought of it would bore him, make him tired.
But she was right here, as close as no one was allowed to get, and she was soft too, like a pillow.
Melise didn't answer, yet stirred some more. Her tires rolled an inch, and she brushed her full lips on his, indulging further with a longing for kiss. She felt him exhale sharply, he was definitely caught off guard.
"Good morning," she sounded and tasted like sweet honey. The sunlight shining through the windows gave her rosy paint a sparkle, eyes glossy and amber. Jackson couldn't forget why he kept her around after that natural display. Yeah, those magazines and pictures didn't show the real essence she had.
Storm flexed his tires, the weight of the rubber displaced Melise, and she snuggled closer, "Are you trying to impress me?" he exhaled in relaxation.
"Is it working?" she asked coyly, looking out the window at the new sunshine, a contrast of last night's weather.
Jackson scoffed lightly, keeping his voice low, "I don't play mind games, so I think it's clear."
"You know," Melise kept her eyes peeled on the tropical atmosphere outside, "the sunlight makes this all feel like it's a dream."
Jackson blinked. The harsh gold rays of sun seeped into the trailer window. In the dead of the night, Gale must've hooked herself up and moved, because his trailer was parked in a garage. The building was a neat white, bricks and gardens. This was the IGNTR headquarters, and the realization of moving in the night without noticing was somewhat unsettling. Gale likely paid no notice to the extra car in the trailer, because Jackson wouldn't let anyone open the door on him without knocking first. His privacy was firmly stated in his contract.
He turned his attention back to the convertible— his VIP guest. She was glowing— literally. Her eyes began moving aimlessly as she surveyed the world outside the trailer with true wonder, obviously ready to leave. That thing she did, where she genuinely enjoyed life despite all the harsh things it threw at her. How rare were vehicles like that from this generation? Everyone wanted to be sad all the time, they were all boring. She wasn't even annoying about it— idealistic? Yeah, that seemed to describe her right. He needed some of that around— a medium to Ray's helicopter parenting and Gale's relaxed persona.
"It doesn't get hot and sunny where you're from?" Jackson was used to this heat, he wouldn't exchange his high performance tires for snow tires. Besides, snow would hug his los undercarriage, the though grossed him out.
"Of course it gets hot, but never really this sunny! all the puddles are already dried up." Melise looked at him, "I'm not from the North Pole, Jack."
The way she always breathed out his name with that soft voice of hers was unique to her, and her only.
"Will I get in trouble when I leave this place— where are we?" Melise peered at two tugs passing by, their signature black and cobalt uniforms brought curiosity out of her.
"At HQ," Jackson hit the release button, and the hatch lowered, allowing a glare of light across the ocean view to dance across his sleek paintjob. He reverse down the ramp slowly, turning and driving to the left of the trailer. Briefly, the mix of gold, black paint and humid haze over the ocean backdrop created a picture too perfect, too nostalgic. Jackson's place in the center briefly made the image look like a first class travel guide brochure.
Catching up with him, the Honda felt refreshed, her tank was low on nutrients, but she could get herself a pint of Valvoline a little later. She caught up to the racer— her racer. He waited while she lined up on his right side, closest to the trailer and slightly timid to be out in the open. The building was extra high tech. In fact, the sun light on an elaborate statue at the front shaped a hurricane, trimmed with indigo outlines that glowed. Melise recognized that symbol all too well. The walls were white brick, reflections of the world kept eyes out as windows were akin to giant mirrors. Something of architecture and physics twined as one, the structure extended into the earth, and down the rocky hillside. It reminded her of those unaffordable penthouses.
"Nice, huh?"
Jackson always did the rhetorical question thing, never caring for the answer the other car had to give. However, his tone was neutral and calm this time. Melise wasn't sure if he was expecting an answer.
"I suppose. The view is amazing though."
Jackson pressed his brakes, glancing to her, "Listen, tell me you're free tomorrow morning, I've got some places to show you."
Melise gathered her thoughts. She had business with Tony, and that ridiculous contraption of feathers and jewels to finish in her suite. In fact, she had to meet the pickup truck at her suite later today.
"I'll be free then," Melise smiled.
Jackson's usual and luxuriate expression took in her appealing features, "Good, I'll give you a call, set it all up."
"Do you want an escort out of here, or not?" Storm asked, pulling a U-turn to face her. Melise shook her hood, "No, I'll be fine, I'll just need my GPS."
Storm watched her, affirming the response. He checked her out as Melise's tires carried her away slowly. The main road was ahead, behind an arm gate and security booth. She definitely felt VIP here, it was a secure lot.
She and Jackson exchanged stares, but the racer was unmoving, his confidence was never wavered. Once again, they were separating, and this time was weirder than the last. Somewhere inside her wild imagination, Melise wished she hadn't spoiled herself so much, but there was still more to learn with him. She still wasn't sure where they stood, and part of that realization, coupled with the vulnerability of being so close to him, made her circuits run cold.
No, Jackson wasn't like that, that's what Emla wanted her to believe. Melise knew better, she knew him, and would repeat her defence again to reaffirm any silly insecurities.
"Drive safe," he remarked as she passed him. Her eyes twinkled and she smiled. The racer raised a lid with a signature very subtle, half-smile. Something about him said he was rooting for her— he knew she had endeavors too, and it warmed her heart.
Headed towards the gate, Melise peered in her mirrors, watching Jackson firmly idling still as she spoke to the agent. The matte black GT looked her over with a relaxed face, "License," he summarized quickly. Melise drove up where he could see her rear plate, "Stamp this pass with, and you're free to go."
The arm ascended slowly, and she caught sight of Jackson Storm's slow exit into the mirror-like facility.
What time did Tony insist on meeting? She couldn't remember, but her tasks at tire were clear. These next few days would go down in history, and Melise was ready to make it happen.