Flock (The Ravenhood)

This is owning it.

And it’s my decision.

At some point in time in a person’s life, they have the choice to search for their forever or let themselves off the leash.

One more glide of my eyes down my body lets me know what choice I’m making tonight.

Down the rabbit hole I go.

I slip into my second skin and rub scented lotion on it before pulling out dark washed jeans and an off the shoulder tee from my closet. I brush bronzer on and sweep thick black mascara over my lashes before lining and filling my lips a shimmering blood red.

Then I shoot off a text.

Maybe I’m not in college just yet, but it’s clear that my education has started early.

I PULL UP TO THE garage to see several cars backed into the parking lot, and hordes of guys huddled around them, most faces unfamiliar, but their shared ink is unmistakable. The shop is pitch dark, locked up tight, the bay doors closed. Sean walks over as soon as I pull up. When I step out, I see his eyes heat when he takes me in.

“Fuck, baby, you look, goddamn,” he turns away from me, shielding me with his body to block me from the others and I slip my arms around his chest, pulling him into me.

“Miss me?”

He turns and peers down at me, my hand locking around his back. “I wanted to give you space and fuck me, it was ha

rd. But it’s going to be even harder tonight.” His tone is filled with insinuation, which stirs my memory and I feel my cheeks heat.

He’s dressed in his usual attire, jeans, a T-shirt, his hair picked through, delicious. “You good?” He asks with genuine concern, as strong arms haul me tighter to him.

“I’m good.” I see him visibly relax with my reply.

“Yeah?” One side of his beautiful mouth lifts. “Made peace with the devil inside?”

“Trying to.”

He rubs his thumb along the edge of my lips. “Had to wear that fucking lipstick, huh?”

“You like?”

“You’re going to pay for that later, come on.” Loosening my grip on him, he grabs my hand and leads me toward the crowd.

“What’s going on?” I ask, just as we break through a line of tall, tattooed men, some of the faces familiar.

“Waiting on Dom to leave,” Tyler answers, giving me a dimple and a lift of his chin. Of all of the crew, Tyler and I have grown the closest. We have a lot in common and recently bonded over our shared love for all things nineties, while he helped me up my pool game.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Russell chimes in. “’Sup, Cee.”

“Hey, Russell.” The warm reception from them helps my shaky confidence and I embrace it for what it is. They seem to have accepted me as one of their own, and it’s a foreign but welcome feeling.

“Hey, you.” Layla appears, breaking through the line and bumps into my shoulder. “Been a minute.”

“Hey, Layla,” I say, my gaze back on Sean who’s looking at me in a way that feeds my soul. A look that says we’re still us, and that’s truly what matters most to me. It’s still very much beyond my comprehension that he could be liberal with me and still look at me the way he does. In a hypocritical way, my romantic heart is disappointed he would, that he did. But so far, he’s practiced to the letter what he’s preached. He liberated me that day because he wanted me to have what I wanted. And that’s a different way, maybe Sean’s way of showing affection.

Not only that, it turns him on.

A scenario I never saw myself living in.

But I am, and my heart starts to kick up as we gaze on at each other as though we’re the only two people in the parking lot.