SWNOVELS Pump Two: Chapter 11
to eat with some of her friends. I guess Micah actually followed up on catching up with her before he flies back to LA. He’s decided to invite a bunch of people to a small brunch so that he can say goodbye to everyone at the same time.
As usual, I’ve dropped my brother off at the skatepark and by doing so, I’m running fifteen minutes late. I quickly shoot Freya a text to let her know that I won’t be getting there on time, and she replies almost immediately.
Me: Running late but I think I can make it in 10
Freya: Np! Ordered you the french toast that you like
Freya: That ok?
Me: Ty! Will be there soon 🙂
“Crap,” I sigh, putting my car into drive. I step on the gas and with no traffic, I make it to the diner in exactly ten minutes. I almost forget to shift to park before rushing into the establishment. My eyes scan the tables for a recognizable face, and I immediately spot Freya waving at me.
“Hey! Sorry I’m late,” I huff when I reach her. Some of the guys have started eating, whilst others are still waiting for their food. I’m welcomed with several grunts and nods. I recognize a few guys from the party as I get comfortable in my seat at the end of the table.
I chat with Freya for a bit and then briefly acknowledge the guy sitting in front of me with a light smile. A waitress places down two plates of French Toast in front of us.
“Good taste.” I smile at his identical plate of food, wiping my utensils with some napkins before using them. His head is down and he doesn’t reply whilst he eats. In fact, he doesn’t even acknowledge me. A little rude, but whatever. I don’t mind because I’m too busy figuring out a way to eat this without making an absolute mess.
“You guys enjoying your food?” Freya asks. It’s just me and this dude sitting right at the end of the table, so her question is obviously directed at us.
“It’s great,” I reply, feeling the sickly syrup run down my throat.
“Mhm, the sweetness is a little overpowering, though.” I almost give myself whiplash with the speed at which I lift my head.
Sweetness.
I’d recognize that voice anywhere. I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth and completely scrutinize the guy in front of me until recognition fills my body. He’s looking at me, the corner of his mouth tilted up slightly like he’s trying not to laugh.
His eyes are identical to Devon’s. I could recognize that sharp, green gaze anywhere. Hell, it’s all I’ve seen peering out of the ski mask for weeks.
His lips are full and topped with a defined cupid’s bow. They sit under his strong nose, which only reinforces the sharp ridges on his face. Ridges I’ve mapped with my fingers each time I’ve had the opportunity to touch him.
He has a small, silver hoop earring that glints in the light. I remember feeling it at the party. The accessory only adds to his striking look, and it’s topped off with short, brown hair that’s buzzed close to his scalp—it looks like it has been cut recently and suits him perfectly.
Then, he tilts his head and looks at me lazily. That is totally Devon.
He’s stunning.
It’s taking everything in me not to crawl across the table just to get to him.
“Devon?”
“Violet.”
“What the—” I start.
“Oh yeah, sorry. I forgot to introduce you both. You probably met at Micah’s party. Violet, this is Devon. Devon, this is Violet,” Freya introduces. Met is the biggest understatement of the century. I press my lips together to keep my face neutral.
“Nice to meet you, Violet. We met briefly at the party, I think?” Devon responds. He holds out his hand for me to shake, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
His hand envelops mine. I try to make our handshake quick, but he squeezes my hand when I try to pull away—his grip tightening and holding on just a beat longer than what is considered customary. I struggle to speak. My heart pounds against my ribcage at a tempo so intense, I fear it might either flatline or explode and wipe out the entire diner.
“Hey,” I manage to choke out, my voice caught in a hushed exhale.
Freya introduces me to the rest of Micah’s friends, and I struggle to remember their names. It dawns on me that Kas is the guy with the huge bruise that I met upstairs at Micah’s. He gives me a small nod of recognition.
Trying to compose myself, I take another mouthful of French Toast. I’m purposely avoiding eye contact with Devon; I certainly wasn’t prepared for this moment to happen in the middle of a brunch with people around.
The whole situation is absurd, and the fact that I went a month without seeing Devon’s face, or knowing his name for half of that time seems ridiculous.
“You look confused,” Devon says, speaking up suddenly.
If I hadn’t already kissed those lips, I would question whether they even existed. Still in shock and staring at his face, I don’t respond.
“It’s me, Violet,” he reassures. “Ask me questions only I’d know the answers to.” He leans back completely unbothered and smiles expectantly at me. He knows that I know it’s him. I place my fork onto my plate and lean back in my chair.
“What pump do you always fill up at?” I ask.
“Pump two,” he responds immediately.
“What beverage do you buy at the gas station for—”
“Coffee.”
“What name did the angry customer call me before he left?” Devon hesitates, his eye twitching.
“No comment.”
We exchange a prolonged gaze, the hilarity of the situation sinking in as we stare at each other, trying to hold back our laughter.
I break out into a giggle. Freya halts her conversation with someone next to her to fixate on me as if I am out of my mind. Then, she glances at Devon who is attempting to conceal his laughter by stuffing his face with French Toast.
Everyone at the table remains oblivious to our interaction, except for Kas, who has a smile tugging at his lips. Freya seems puzzled by the exchange, then nods slowly as if confirming something with herself.
“Ohhh, the party,” she mouths, nodding excitedly.
Freya thinks that Devon is the same guy I hooked up with at the party and she is correct. I did fool around with Devon a lot during the party…and before the party…and after the party, too. I give her a shy smile, and she responds with a wink before diverting her attention to others at the table.
When I shift my gaze back to Devon, he’s looking at me with a smug grin. We consume our meals, our eyes meeting frequently as I take bites of my French Toast. There’s only a little bit of food left over. I’m too anxious to even attempt to finish it. Devon smiles at me, then clears his throat.
“I’m going for a smoke,” he announces. I’m confused for a moment because I thought he had quit smoking. When he stands up, he looks at me and jerks his head toward the back of the diner. Only then do I realize that he is giving me a signal to follow him.
“I’ll join you,” I state, rising abruptly from my seat.
Freya gives me a strange look because she knows I don’t smoke. I tilt my head discreetly toward Devon’s back as he strolls through the crowded diner. She nods in understanding, doing her usual excited jig.
Devon’s imposing figure is easy to track through the bustling diner crowd. I follow him past the restrooms, then out of a fire exit door where we end up facing each other in silence.
“So…” he begins.
“So…”
“You like what you see?” he teases, reaching out to grab a strand of my hair.
“Eh,” I respond, playfully rolling my eyes. He steps closer and yanks me into a kiss. I savor the feel of my palms on his face, and he squeezes me against him as if we might become one.
I don’t know what I was expecting after seeing his face. Maybe a lessened attraction? A horrid realization that I don’t like him now that I’ve seen his face?
What I feel is nothing different. In fact, I feel the exact same as I did when he kissed me every single time prior to this.
Just as explosive, just as exciting, and just as obsessed as I was when I first met him. When we break apart, I study his face in the sunlight. He has small freckles dotted across his nose. Cute.
“You scared the shit out of me, Violet. I thought you weren’t going to turn up, you would have foiled my plan,” he says as if he was some heinous villain—the way he refers to his face reveal as a plan is enough to make me roar with laughter.
“Did you plan this?” I ask, using my sleeve to dab at my watering eyes. “I’m impressed with the whole sweetness thing.”
“It’s not funny! I was genuinely stressed. I had it partly planned when I found out you were coming to brunch yesterday and decided to see how it would go,” he answers, shrugging his shoulders. “I ended up just saying nothing at the table until Freya randomly gave me the perfect opening.”
He was stressed out over this. Warmth flourishes in my abdomen at the thought of Devon losing his mind over me seeing his face and trying to plan it out.
“I honestly thought I would go crazy not seeing your face after the party,” I admit. “I was about to rip off the mask myself in the gas station after you teased me with it. You literally left me…dirty.” When he left the station after releasing all over my ass, I was confused, albeit furiously turned on. I wasn’t even mad that he stormed out after because I knew he’d be back. Devon always comes back.
“Sorry about that. I panicked if I’m being honest,” he says. He scratches his head, muscles stretching against his tee.
“I didn’t wash it off, in case you were wondering,” I whisper. Devon tips his head back and groans.
“You’re killing me, Violet. What have you done to me?”
“No, what have you done to me? I was perfectly okay to let you do things to me without seeing your face. Do you know how crazy that is?” The fire exit door opens suddenly. A chef bumbles out, briefly regarding us as he lights up a cigarette. Devon turns at the sound of the lighter, then quickly looks away from the nicotine-filled stick.
“Crazy to us, but even crazier to other people. Kas thought the mask thing was stupid.” Devon smirks. “He saw me trailing you through the whole of Micah’s party.”
“Mari pretty much said the same thing, she said I have a mask kink.” I whisper the last part of my sentence so the chef doesn’t hear. Devon bursts out laughing, resting his hand on his chest to calm himself.
“You do,” he agrees. I give him a weak glare and look away from him in embarrassment. “When I saved you from that customer, I was like your very own Batman.”
“Relax,” I snicker, looking toward the chef who is watching us skeptically with his cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “The mask was hot, so don’t be offended if I ask you to put it on again in the future.”
“I won’t,” he promises. “But it does make it easier to kiss you now.”
“This is the first time we’ve seen each other outside of, like, ten p.m. to seven a.m. too,” I point out.
We really restricted ourselves for the fun of it. I can’t help but wonder if the attraction and chemistry would have been the same if Devon had taken off his helmet and ski mask the first time we met.
Devon’s words about there being no alternate universe where the sex wouldn’t be good comes to mind. I don’t think there’s an alternate universe where we wouldn’t have some sort of chemistry.
“Do you think that we will be the same without the mask? I mean, the whole dynamic of our…thing was that I didn’t see your face.”
“Are you having regrets?” Devon asks me, concern marring his features. “Because I don’t think anything will change, Violet.”
“No, I’m not having any regrets. I was just curious about how you feel.” I pause momentarily. “Because I feel like it can only get better.”
Devon pulls me back into him and kisses me again, groaning into my mouth. The chef tuts loudly from behind us and stomps back into the diner.
“If it’s any consolation, I also think that it can only get better,” Devon replies.
We lose track of time and when we finally make it back to the table, some people have already left. Freya is laughing at something on her phone with Kas and Micah.
“Oh my god, you guys totally ruined some of my pictures. Devon, why are you pretending to choke Kas in the back of this one?” Freya shows Devon the photo as he sits down. He throws his head back in unrestrained laughter.
As he laughs, I can’t help but stare at his face. I only look away when Freya shoves her phone in front of me so I can look at the photos. Freya and I are smiling, our cheeks touching. In the back, you can see Kas looking pissed off with his arms crossed and Devon with two hands around his neck in a comedic choke.
Devon was behind me in those pictures the whole time?
My cheeks hurt with how wide I’m smiling. By the end of the brunch, I don’t think that smile has left my face. When it’s time to say our goodbyes, Devon walks me to my car and opens the door for me.
“I don’t want to say goodbye,” he says, watching as I settle into the driver’s seat.
“I’ll see you soon, right?” I ask, unsure of what to do now. I’m sure it’s self-explanatory that we’ll see each other soon.
“Oh yeah, that reminds me,” he starts. I look up at him, shielding my eyes from the sun. “Violet, can I get your number?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” I laugh, heat filling my cheeks. “Please, take my number.” I punch my number into his phone, and he rings me so I also have his. He then jumps into a glossy, black car and gives me a goofy wave which earns an eye roll from Kas.
Once they’re gone, I lean my head back against the car headrest and let the sun’s rays warm my face as I smile to myself.
It’s almost like a thick veil of uncertainty has finally been lifted, a reassurance that Devon and I are on the same page. I could reflect on insightful teachings about the value of personality over looks, but what truly stands out to me is Devon’s unwavering commitment to keeping his identity obscured for the sake of fun.
A premise so stupid that at this point, it’s more amusing than anything else.
Devon: On my way!
Me: Yay
I stare at Devon’s message as if I haven’t heard from him in years. It’s only been seven hours.
“Why are you just smiling at your phone? You haven’t scrolled for like thirty seconds.” Ash looks at me from his usual spot on the couch, his own phone playing some obnoxiously loud music on repeat.
“Just someone I like,” I say.
“A boy?”
“Yes, a boy.”
Despite Ash being much younger than me, he gets very protective when it comes to me dating. Probably because he despised my ex, who in his words—and much to his own amusement considering my artistic nature—was ‘more boring than watching my own paintings dry’.
“Is this the friend who rides the bike? You like him? I’d like to meet him, make sure he’s good enough for you,” Ash says, straightening from his slouched position.
“You probably will meet him, I think you’d get on well.” I’m already telling Ash that he’ll meet Devon and catch myself off guard with my confidence about Devon sticking around long enough to meet my family. Ash tries prying more questions out of me about my love life until we both hear Devon’s bike an hour later.
“Don’t—” I start, watching Ash get up from the sofa and sprint out of the house. I put on my shoes as fast as I can and follow him.
“What business do you have with my sister?” I hear him ask, his arms crossed over his chest. Devon takes off his helmet and mask which causes me to suck in an audible breath.
“Ash,” I warn, walking across the front yard.
“You her brother?” Devon asks, smirking over at me.
“Yeah, Ashton Lee.” Ash makes his voice a little lower than it usually is. I hide a giggle that works its way up my throat when I watch them shake hands. Devon looks at me with amusement, his tall frame completely swamping my brother’s much smaller stature.
“Nice to meet you Ashton Lee, I’m Devon Blackstone,” he drawls. I don’t think Ash hears him because he’s already distracted by Devon’s bike.
“Woah, cool,” Ash breathes. “I seriously can’t believe my goody-two-shoes sister rides on the back of this.”
“Hey!” I shout as I near both of them. “I’m not a goody-two-shoes.” They both gaze at me unbelievingly with an expression that says, ‘whatever helps you sleep at night’.
As my brother rubs his hand over the bike’s glossy exterior, his eagerness to ride it himself becomes apparent to me. Then, a question I could see him asking from miles away finally escapes his lips, “Can I ride?”
Ash and I raise our gazes to Devon. My brother’s eyes are silently pleading, while I cast a glowering stare, silently urging Devon to choose his answer carefully.
“When you’re older, sure. Violet tells me that you like skateboarding, so maybe you can do that for now.”
“Do you skateboard?” Ash asks as if this is the defining question of the century.
“Yeah, used to do it a lot when I was your age.” Ash beams and starts walking back to the house. Interrogation over. I really hope that my brother doesn’t become a cop.
“Have fun Violet, I like this guy!” he calls, slamming the front door shut.
“I’m pretty sure he was meant to judge if you were safe and potentially scare you off,” I say, placing the word ‘safe’ in an air quote.
“He did a pretty bad job of it.” Devon chuckles, passing me a backpack and placing a helmet on my head.
“He thinks you’re cool, so that’s probably enough for him. Where are we going anyway?” I drum my fingers on Devon’s shoulders as I sit behind him on the bike.
“I’m glad you’re more eager in person than texting.” His shoulders hunch forward, and he pretends to silently sob.
“What do you mean?! I was so excited to see your message,” I argue, swatting his back.
“You responded with ‘yay’. No smiley face, just ‘yay’. Jeez, it’s like you hate me.” Devon turns to face me with his visor up, eyes crinkling at the corners.
I shove him playfully. “You are so dramatic! Now, can you please tell me where we’re going? I’m so excited.” He bumps helmets with me, as if to substitute an affectionate peck on the cheek.
“I’m taking you on a date. A proper date.” Butterflies flutter in my lower stomach and I rest my head on his back whilst we ride for a while. Compared to the last time I was on his bike, I don’t look away from the road the entire time. I only squeal a little when Devon takes a sharp turn down a recognizable dirt path.
“Isn’t this where the cops chased us?” I ask, memories of the events that transpired here come flooding back to me.
“Yeah, but there’s a surprise at the end of the path.” We ride through the sparse trees and enter a large open area at the edge of a cliff that reveals a beautiful view of a valley below.
The engine stops, and the rustling trees along with Devon’s thudding steps are the only things heard across the forest. He takes the backpack from my shoulders and lays out a picnic blanket a short distance from the bike.
“Our first official date with no mask, this is monumental,” I state, finally managing to unbuckle the helmet. He pats the blanket next to him and I sit down. His outstretched legs cover most of the material.
“I look even better, right? Try not to jump my bones.” He smiles as I watch him pull out a familiar food box, taking off the lid to reveal my favorite golden pastry.
“Baklava, of course. Where do you get this from anyway?”
“Can’t tell you, I have a dealer,” he says, pretending to zip his lips.
“Seriously?” Devon ignores me and holds out a piece of the sweet dessert on the end of a fork, placing it into my mouth. I don’t moan this time. Devon notices because he lets out a low chuckle as I silently chew.
The view of the cliff with the sun setting behind it casts a warm glow over us. It somehow makes the dessert taste better than it did in the gas station.
“You do know that it’s not just your moans that turn me on. Not moaning would never stop me from wanting to completely devour you.” I struggle to swallow the Baklava after hearing Devon’s words, and I look into his heated gaze.
“I know.” I jump when the birds swooping and soaring in the sky over the valley squawk loudly, interrupting our otherwise peaceful picnic.
“Good, because as soon as you’ve finished eating, I’m going to completely ravage you,” he whispers.
“Here?” I ask mid-chew.
“Don’t ask stupid questions, Sweetness,” he warns. “We’ve done it in this forest before, and I’m more than happy to do it here again.” I’ve never eaten something so fast in my life because, true to his word, he ravages me. And just like the Baklava, it’s even better than before.