Paula Stokes - The Art of Lainey

“How are you at fence climbing?” he asks.

“Not bad, actually. My brother and I used to practice flipping over our backyard fence when we were little.” Of course that’s only about half as high as this one. Then again, I was probably half as tall as I am now. “You’re taking me to the airport? For what? Some therapeutic graffitiing?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re still on probation, aren’t you?”

“Yup.” He sticks the toe of his boot in one of the diamond-shaped holes of the chain-link fence and begins to make his way to the top. The sun starts to rise, painting the sky a brilliant pinkish color.

I point at the sign. “You know this is illegal, right?”

“Yup. I’ve already been here once today. Would you trust me if I told you it was worth the risk?” Micah drops to the high grass on the other side of the fence.

I scale the fence gracefully and land next to him. I’m suddenly glad I’m in my sweats instead of whatever dress and heels combo I would have worn to the Wash U party. “I guess, but I’m not the one on probation.”

Micah wraps his hands around my neck and pretends to strangle me. “Just stop talking for five minutes, okay?”

He leads me across a dead runway, the cracks in the cement so deep they might go all the way to the center of the earth. We pass a pair of cargo hangars as we near the wall of the abandoned terminal. It looks like Micah’s already done his painting for the day. A pair of fading nooses have been repainted in bright blue, the words Hangman’s Joke suspended between them.

“Micah,” I say softly. I wonder why he does it, if it’s a symbolic way for him to keep his dad alive.

He shakes his head. “Not that. This.” He ducks down against the wall of the terminal and waits for me to do the same. We hug the cold metal as we creep our way around to the other side. There are a lot of trucks and trailers parked on the adjacent runway.

“What the—?” And then it hits me. These are movie trucks and trailers. “Flyboys?” I practically shriek.

Micah clamps a hand over my mouth. “Shhh, they’ll hear us.”

We sneak closer and duck down behind a baggage transport truck. Black-clad Hollywood types with laminated badges around their necks mill between the rounded silver trailers. A couple bald guys are busy opening a bunch of black cases. They start building a weird scaffolding of metallic ladders and round, fuzzy things that must be microphones. I swallow hard. It’s not even seven a.m. yet, probably too early for a big star like Caleb Waters to be filming. But I swear, if he saunters out of one of those trailers I will totally faint.

“I can’t believe this,” I whisper. “I can’t believe you found this. I can’t believe you brought me here.”

“It is a risk, I guess, bringing the girl I like to see the thirtysomething washed-up athlete of her dreams,” Micah says with a teasing grin. “But I figure if you observe us side by side, it’ll be obvious who is superior.”

“I’m serious, Micah. This is amazing. I wish Bianca could be here.” I fish my phone out of my pocket. “I’ve got to get pictures for her.”

“I’m serious too. That guy is old.”

“He is not that—” I stop. “Did you just call me the ‘girl you like’?”

Micah ruffles my unbrushed, un-flat-ironed hair, and warmth surges through me. “We can talk about that later.”

Part of me wants to talk about that right this second, but we’re only a few yards away from the crew and if they get any closer they might overhear us. I lean in and brush my lips against Micah’s cheek. “Seriously life-changing moment,” I whisper.

“I thought you might think so,” he whispers back.

I recognize a couple of the actors who play smaller roles in the movie. A truck tows a commercial plane down the runway—a smaller one with collapsible steps instead of a jet bridge. I start snapping pictures of everything. Bee is going to be sad that she missed this, but at least I can show her as much as possible. The actors take their places on the stairs leading up to the plane. And then I see him.

Caleb Waters.

He steps out of a trailer wearing aviator sunglasses and a pilot’s uniform. Immediately I turn my camera on him. Bianca is going to die.

The wind blows Caleb’s hair forward and I hear someone else yell for him to put his hat on. A woman in pointy glasses runs over with a blue pilot’s hat. A pair of big, burly guys without necks pace back and forth a few feet away. Bodyguards, no doubt.

I zoom in on my phone and snap a picture of Caleb in his full uniform.

And then it rings.

Oh no. My mom. It figures.

No Neck One and Two pivot in unison.

“Shit. Come on.” Micah’s wiry frame is already streaking from the transport vehicle back around to the far side of the terminal. Damn, he’s fast. He’s like a black blur. I take off after him.

I hear a shout. Looking over my shoulder I see the entire cast and crew staring. No Neck One and Two are running toward me. They’re a few yards behind me. Micah is almost halfway to the fence already.

“Stop right there,” No Neck One says. Boy, does he sound pissed.

I sprint toward the fence. Micah glances back over his shoulder.

“Keep going,” I holler. I’m so glad Bianca and I did all that running this summer. I’m flying. I put a few extra feet of distance between myself and the security detail.

Micah stops at the fence and turns to wait for me. “Come on. You can do it.”

I lengthen my stride. I don’t look back. I can’t. I keep plunging straight ahead, toward Micah. Toward freedom. He laces his fingers together and holds out his hands to give me a boost. I don’t think I need it but the gesture makes my heart tense up and then go weak. If Micah gets caught trespassing, he’ll be in violation of his probation. He risked everything to indulge me in some silly celebrity fantasy and now he’s risking everything again so I don’t get caught.

My right foot lands in Micah’s hands. I hear him grunt as I lift off and manage to grab the top of the fence. I twist my body around and fall to the ground on the other side. Micah’s halfway up the fence but the beefy guys have caught up to us. One of them has Micah by the ankle. He kicks out with his foot.

“Let him go!” I yell. I grab a stick from the edge of the trees and poke at No Neck Two who now has ahold of Micah’s jeans. The guy swears. Micah wriggles out of his grasp and falls to the ground beside me. We take off running, back through the trees and down the alley. All the way back to the parking lot of The Devil’s Doorstep where the Beast is parked.

I skid to a stop in front of the car. I’m hyperventilating, half from the run and half from the shock of almost getting caught.

“I thought we were going to get arrested,” Micah says. His hands are shaking so bad he can barely get the car doors open. We both slide into the Beast and press the door locks.

I slink down in my seat, even though the parking lot is still deserted. “I thought we were going to get pounded into a pulp! Those guys meant business.”

“Who the hell was calling you this early?”

“My mom, of course. We Mitchells have impeccable timing.”

“Is she going to be pissed that you didn’t answer?” he asks.

“Probably, but who cares? I saw Caleb freaking Waters. How cool is that?” I scroll through the photos on my phone. “And I’ve got pictures! Bianca is going to die when she sees these.”

“You two have issues,” Micah teases. “But I’m glad you enjoyed it since I almost had a heart attack.”

Smiling, I shush him just long enough to listen to my mom’s voice mail message.

“Lainey. Hi, I know you said you were at Kendall’s, and you probably just fell back to sleep, but I did a reading for you with my breakfast tea and the leaves indicated you might be in some kind of danger. I know you’re not a believer like me, but I just had to call once more and check on you. Please humor your mom and call me back when you get this.”

I quickly call her back.

“Lainey!” My mom sounds out of breath when she answers. “I’m so glad you’re all right. Are you still at Kendall’s?”

“Uh, I actually went by Denali and ran into Micah so we’re just talking right now.” I feel a twinge of guilt, even though technically everything I said was true. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Promise. Love you.” I turn to Micah as I slide my phone back into my purse. “You will not believe this,” I say. “You know how my mom reads tea leaves? She just did a reading for me and it indicated I was in danger.”

His jaw drops a little. “That is creepy.” He slides the key into the ignition and turns the Lainey playlist back on. It’s one of the Bottlegrate songs we heard at the concert. The frantic drumbeat perfectly matches my pounding heart.

“I know. That dude had you by your jeans . . .” My mind starts replaying the whole adventure like I’m watching a movie. A really amazing movie, where the lead actor is neither tall nor tan, but is still an insanely hot hero guy. I turn toward Micah. “Thank you. I still can’t believe you did that for me. You could’ve gotten in so much trouble.”

He shrugs. “Hey, big risks, big rewards, you know?”

I can’t stop staring at how the rising sun back-lights his slender form, at how his mohawk casts a funny shadow on the dashboard. I reach out for him without thinking, running one finger across his pierced eyebrow and then the back of my hand along his jaw. “What sort of rewards were you hoping for?” I ask softly.

Micah reaches up and curls his hand around mine. “This is enough.” His voice catches. “Seeing you so excited.”

My whole body goes weak. “What if it’s not enough for me?” My other hand cups his chin, a hint of beard stubble prickling against my fingertips. I lean toward him, aligning my face with his. My chest caves with each breath.

His whole body is radiating heat. Even though I’ve been kissed hundreds of times by Jason, somehow this moment feels different, as if no one has ever touched me. I let my eyes flutter closed. I know exactly how far Micah is away from me. I know exactly how many seconds it will take for our lips to meet.

Our foreheads touch first. The song ends and a new one comes on. “Wake Up Dreaming”—the song Amber’s band was playing the night I first wanted this to happen.

Micah reaches out and turns the volume all the way down.

“Leave it on,” I say.

He turns it halfway back up. The violins meld with the guitar. My heart does a somersault in my chest.

“I have to tell you something.” His words mix with my breath.

“Yeah?” My eyes are still closed.

“I never got back together with Amber, okay? I thought about it, but I realized I was just thinking the same as you—like why fight the natural order of things?”

“Trinity told you about that little conversation, huh?” I slide my hand around to cradle the back of his neck. So close. The music starts to build.

“She’s my sister. She tells me all kinds of stuff.” His cheek grazes mine. Our noses brush. “And then I didn’t want to rush into a rebound thing.”

“Me neither.” The violins and guitars swell to a crescendo. Once again, every beat is punctuated with the image of Micah and me kissing.

“But then I realized I’m not rushing, if I’ve wanted this for weeks.”

My heart feels huge in my chest. “Me too,” I say. And then: “Shh.”

“Sorry, I just want to make sure I don’t mess this up.”

My eyes flick open for a second. I grip Micah’s neck and pretend to strangle him. “Just stop talking for five minutes, okay?” I let my eyelids fall shut again. Without waiting for an answer, I close the distance between us.

I can feel Micah smile as our lips finally meet. Soft. Warm. He squeezes my fingers gently. His other hand tangles itself in my hair. My whole body trembles. I exhale hard against his chin.

“Damn, girl,” he murmurs, tightening his hold on me. His tongue tastes my lips and then finds the inside of my mouth.

I press myself toward him, willing him to kiss me harder. And he does. The Beast’s gearshift threatens to poke a hole in my hip, but I don’t care. The car starts to fade away. The whole world goes hazy. Micah lifts me over the center console until I’m half in his lap. We stay locked together until we both run out of breath.