Fear and Amusement

Peony's never been one for sneaking out and tonight's not any different. She's just extending the scope of her sleepover with the girls. At least that's what she's going to call it, even though none of them want to come with Peony to her next venue.

"Why are you wearing that wig again, P? Run me through your thought process."

"Just to make sure no one who knows my dad is going to tell on me, Bel." The sheltered girl swiftly reasons, an orange mop of hair concealing her own, the bangs of the heinous thing is awkwardly straight, a fact Peony found absolutely hilarious and her friends found absolutely humiliating.

Nonetheless, the shameless girl twirls in front of the large mirror on the wall of her friend's room, not a hint of hesitation on her face as she adds finishing touches to her outfit, her checkered mini skirt and white tank top fairly stylish. No thought of removing the, for the lack of better words, fucking ugly wig seems to cross her mind.

Valerie and Isabel share a look, something akin to disappointment.

"I don't think anyone in the illegal underground street racing ring knows your dad personally, P." Isabel, her more softspoken friend, cozies up inside her purple dinosaur onesie, eyes dancing around her happy-go-lucky friend's outfit with uncertainty. It's pretty great, as expected from the secretly fashionable girl, up until the wig.

"Or recognize you in the dark ass tunnels." Val adds, sarcasm heavy on her tongue.

"We shouldn't underestimate my dad's connections, my sweetest, most darling cutie patootie sugarcakes. I can't risk it, dark or not."

Valerie visibly retracts at the pet names, tongue sticking out in disgust, and Peony snickers, satisfied by the reaction.

"Why not just, you know, not go? Like a normal person. Angela's not even. Wouldn't that be intruding?"

"She has a point, P." Isabel agrees, to Peony's disappointment.

"That's because Angela's babysitting her little brother. The circumstances just aren't in her favor. And hey! I was personally invited too, you guys were literally there!" Peony falls on the mattress the two are lying on, rolling around it to emphasize her annoyance, her betrayal, her absolute hurt.

"She wouldn't have went regardless. She doesn't really like Cain that much." Val adds.

"What?" Peony sits up, eyebrows scrunhed up. "This isn't about that Cain guy. My gals, it's underground street racing! It's a once in a lifetime chance before we're subjected to a mundane and grating life and eventually die a sad and lonely death."

"Overdramatic much?" Valerie's frown sinks deeper, unimpressed.

"Whatever. You hags can rot in here while I enjoy myself." Peony props herself up, standing up and approaching the room's window, big enough to sneak an entire person in, or in this case, out.

"How are you even gonna get there, stupid?"

"Bike, duh. There's a reason why we're in your house, Val, and not Bel's." Peony retorts as if it's the most obvious statement in the world. Isabel looks worried as she steps out of the window pane.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, you're going to get killed."

Peony's eyes narrow at Val. "Now you're the one being overdramatic."

"Angela would be very worried if she was here, P."

"Well, Angela's not here and I'm leaving because you two are bullying me." The temporarily orange-haired girl pouts, about to take a few steps away from the house when she's stopped by a grip on her wrist.

"I am genuinely concerned for your safety. Are you sure about this?" Valerie asks and Peony almost shivers from the seriousness in her voice, the coldness in her eyes. Protective, her friend had always been.

"Yeah. I got this baby with me." She pulls out something from her purse, an inch of silver gleaming under the bedroom's low lights.

Valerie's eyes snap to her face, the dissatisfaction on her face turning into a smile. "You're a crazy bitch."

Peony kisses her friend on the cheek. "That's why you love me. Thanks for the concern, V."

---

The moment the strange sheltered girl steps away from the crowd in an oversized puffer jacket, the orange wig on top of her head glaringly cheap, Cain just knows, by instinct, that everything is about to go to shit. The girl's enthusiasm hurts even more than the absence of a certain blonde—Amanda or something, he can't seem to remember with everything going on. Her big smile and wave almost sends him wheezing in pain.

A bunch of flashy cars are being shown off. The race is fortunately saved for later while the crowds are still getting fired up, cheers and whoops thrown around from every corner of the tunnel. Cain dreads the idea of having to stay with his schoolmate before to drive off and far away from the starting line in another race. Fuck, he really can't afford to lose because of a sour mood.

Luckily, Hugh steps in at the right moment.

"Hugh, buddy! I was just about the introduce you to this pretty lady here, uhh..."

The peculiar girl gives him a disappointed look, eyes straring dead into her soul. He would've been intimidated if not for the obnoxious mop of orange that's supposed to serve as her hair. He still doesn't understand why it's there.

"Peony, it's Peony. It's nice making your acquaintance, Hugh!" She shakes Hugh's hand much too excitedly, causing the usually stoic man to shoot Cain a look—one of primal fear. 'This girl is a weirdo.'

'Exactly,' Cain manages to express back, only by pursing his lips and raising his eyebrows. His eyes shift towards her head for a momemt, Hugh's gaze following his, and that's when the realization really sinks in.

'Oh fuck, fuck you.' Hugh responds, having to physically restrain a sigh from leaving his lungs.

"I'm going to have to leave you to Hugh here, need to hype myself up for the next round and all. Why don't you show her around, bud? Introduce her to some of the folk here?"

Peony's eyes widen in wonder, and Cain catches it before it can turn into a full-blown disaster. "Oh shit, you drive? Can I ride with you—"

Before the girl can finish her sentence, Cain is already seven steps away from the pair, his hand waving high up in the air as he starts approaching the crowd.

"Don't have too much fun you two!" He teases, and in response, Hugh shoots him one of his lethal glares. If looks could kill, the heartthrob would be six feet under by now, which he'd much rather be, truth be told. He'd take being dead over dealing with the bullshit he's dealing with at the moment.

Some part of his mind still can't believe that the little miss Alice he was so sure he had under his claws stood him up. Even worse, she sent the Mad Hatter to fuck his evening over, as if not showing up isn't embarrassing enough for the infamous heartthrob.

It's just one girl. He reminds himself, nothing significant to beat himself up over.

Moving through the crowd, he grabs one of the girls he's sure he's hooked up with in the past and she doesn't waste a moment before eagerly following him to a secluded corner in the tunnel.

---

"You city people are fucking weirdos, I swear to god." The girl tries to say, coherent words impossible to form as another burst of laughter leaves her mouth.

The two hit it off surprisingly well. It's awkward at first, sure, but after talking about the band on Hugh's t-shirt, they quickly fall into a rabbit hole of conversation without noticing, topic flying flawlessly from favorite bread spreads (Peony finds out that Hugh has a particular distate towards peanut butter, the first and only person she can finally agree with on the topic), to siblings, to hilariously awkward first times.

"Says the one wearing that wig."

Peony snorts, adjusting the horrendous thing as she feels it slip off from the amount of movement she's done while laughing. "You like it? I wore it to fuck with Cain, mostly."

"You're smarter than I initially thought, country bumpkin." The athlete compliments, smile alluring behind the rim of his beer bottle. He places it down eventually. His eyes sparkle as she glares at him harmlessly, enjoyment never once faltering from her face.

He gets a rise out of Peony's reactions everytime he uses the nickname, her chest always huffing up in offense, fists forming into tiny balls. "I'm not a country bumpkin! Our town isn't that small!"

"Town," He repeats the word with a cheeky amount of emphasis, follows it with the right amount of sarcasm. "Sure."

"I'm gonna beat you up." She starts throwing hands, albeit playfully and if Hugh's being honest, he can barely feel her hits on his chest.

He stops her, still, holds her hands in his bigger pair. Because he refuses to lose in their made-up wrestling match. "With these adorable fists? I'd like to see you try."

Hugh realizes the implications of his words, feels the warmth of Peony's fingers in his. His heart can't take it and he pulls away, flustered from the little interaction.

His mind races, desperate to divert their attention to somewhere else. Chage the topic, perhaps?

"What do you think of Cain so far?" He asks, wincing once he realizes that he'd rather not talk about his idiotic best friend. Girls always seem to find him attractive and Hugh knows it'll sting once Peony, the first girl he's genuinely been invested in, admits it.

"Angela said he likes to make everything a dick swinging competition." She surprises him with her response, even more so once he looks back into her eyes, the amount of empathy reflecting in them knocking the air out of his lungs. She always seems to understand what he's trying to do.

It eases Hugh partially, his shoulders rising and falling as he starts chuckling again for the nth time that night. "She's not too far off. But I asked about what you think."

"Hm." She thinks for far too long, and Hugh waits for the punch the entire time. "I think his dick's too tiny to swing."

The laughter that leaves his lips is almost shameful—boisterous, loud, without a care in the world. Much like how the girl makes him feel.

"We really need to talk more." He says, nearly in tears.

"I wouldn't be so opposed to the idea. Maybe I can find some time for you in my schedule." Peony replies, playful as always.

Hugh pretends he has a notepad in his hands. Or a planner. Or whatever would be appropriate in their imaginary scenario. "Hm. Are you open to every other Thursday 4:15 to 4:35 in the afternoon?"

"Can I negotiate with every first Wednesday of the month, 1:30 to 1:45?"

"Only fifteen minutes every once a month? You wound me."

Peony's attention is stolen from him for a moment as the crowd's screams get noticeably louder, the cars that are actually participating in the race start entering. The cheers get defeaning. And the white lights of the tunnel are replaced with an array of neon in the dark.

Hugh can almost hear the gears in Peony's head turning. She looks towards him, eyes foxier than he's ever seen them be in the entire night. "Hehe, maybe I'll consider giving you more time if you helped me out with something."