Reckless - S01 E27

Story 1 week ago

Reckless - S01 E27

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 27

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[30 Mins Ago, No Sleep Garage]

7:30.

Too late.

But then…there’s the red carpet before the tango according to the programme he saw on the Mixer banner that was hung on top of the campus gate, so there might still be a little time to get ready.

Red carpet takes just few minutes—roughly thirty minutes, so he still has thirty minutes at his disposal.

He shut down the laptop, abandoning the programming he was about to venture into.

He rushed out of the garage, and despite the fact that he was only just getting down from a car trip which is very dangerous, he still got back in the car, and Matteo spranged up.

“Where are you going in a car again? You’re just gonna leave the car beside a road again you crap boy!”

Trevor rushed out of the garage restroom where he was peeing, and merely seeing the car driving out of the garage gave him goosebumps.

“You only just got down from a car ride! It’s dangerous to get on another!” He shouted.

But he was responded with the angry groaning of the car as Cove screeched violently out of the garage.

“He’s not going to the Mixer, is he?” Matteo muttered.

“Why so sudden?” Trevor stood on his tippy toes. “I’m worried about him. What if his head gets rowdy again like last time?”

“Last time can’t happen again, definitely.” Matteo assured, though he knows he shouldn’t be this absolute about it. Cove is indecipherable.

Cove’s veins were already shaking inside his bloodstream by the time he got to the studio apartment.

He came out of the car, his head screaming and his breaths running.

He rested his right hand on the car body, taking few shallow breaths as the sweat on his face frosted.

The drive from the garage to this place is five minutes, but it took him three minutes cos he was speeding like a criminal.

He dragged another shallow breath into his nostrils before going up the low staircase.

He pushed the door open, and the first place he went was the small clothes hanger.

By now, he’s already feeling the earthquake and hurricane in his head… all together.

He blocked it out with grunts, and he sweated more as he digged into the clothes on the hanger.

He yanked off his jean, hoodies, Trevor’s wears and everything till the hanger became naked, and now he’s staring at what he’s looking for beneath the weak oak wood.

A wrapped bloodred suit.

He didn’t buy it with his money.

Why would he buy a suit?

But last year when he became a university student in his former campus, Matteo bought this suit for him as a gift.

He had declined, saying he didn’t want a suit, but Trevor took it and stashed it here, and now the use is here in handy.

He threw the wrapped suit out of that crampy space,then his clothes hit the bed as he took them off and wrapped his towel on his waist, entering the bathroom for a shower.

He spent five minutes inside, he washed his hair too, and the water did a little help in reducing the quake in his skull, but that little help amounts to nothing.

When he came out of the bathroom, his head was quaking again.

His sweating persisted, and as he blowdried his hair, he was panting…

Till he was done.

He brushed the hair back in a slick-back style, gelling it a little, then he got a little work done on his thick brows, shaping it perfectly.

He grabbed a black undershirt and threw it on, then the suit followed.

He ripped the plaster from his jaw. The treatment is really potent cos the wound is gone now. It didn’t even leave the littlest scar.

Dressing up took fifteen minutes, and now he has seven minutes to drive to school if he’s gonna meet up.

He threw his buzzing phone in his suit inner pocket and rushed down the stairs same way he rushed up, and he literally jumped in the car.

His drive to the campus was a life and death situation.

Close to suicide.

He almost hit two girls.

He spent thirty minutes on the road —extra 23 minutes cos his eyes were blurry throughout, and his intestines felt like they were entwining.

When he arrived at the campus, he was still sweating bowlfuls, and he had to rest his frame on the car, taking deep breaths.

His chest felt like it’d balloon and burst anytime soon, and the world is still blurry to him.

Despite the fact that he’s now out of the car, he could still hear the sound of the engines roaring in his head, and it’s making him groan.

The noise in the surroundings of the hall did nothing to placate him.

Then the announcement came…

“IN THE ABSENCE OF THE CHOSEN KING, NEW TANGO KING DECIDED!”

“DORIAN WESLEY IS TO TAKE COVE’S PLACE ON THE DANCE!”

That was the kick he needed.

He gathered himself together and wiped sweat from his face.

Though he’s dying slowly inside, he made his way to the glaring apple entrance of the hall.

[Present Time]

Cove entered, dressed in a blood-red suit, hair swept back to make the bangs disappear. Eyebrows carefully shaped, eyes so still.

Gasps. Wide eyes. Gags.

Dorian and Stacy paused, but the music didn’t pause, and as Cove began moving to the dance floor, Zendaya’s heart broke.

Trinidad smiled. “The king is here.”

Dorian didn’t try to hide his surprise. It showed in the way his lashes blinked, but why would Cove show up here of all places?

Stacy’s brows are almost joining in the middle right now—anger.

Why would he come?

After standing her up cos yes he did stood her up. If Dorian didn’t fill in, then she’d have been disgraced, so why is he suddenly entering?

If guts were riches, then this guy would be a multimillionaire. His guts is overflowing like some fountain.

And the way his shoulders are high, the way his arrogance is still oozing off him even with his lateness.

It’s infuriating so much she wants to kick him off the earth surface.

Zendaya was panting without even realizing. Her chest is tight. She might get an heart attack at this rate.

Elmira and Roxy? The wideness of their eyes has refused to reduce.

The music is still playing, the mood is still thick, the atmosphere is still set.

Getting to the tango floor, Cove tendered his right hand.

It’s slightly bigger than Dorian’s, but Stacy didn’t have the patience to analyze that cos she’d rather die than take that hand this night.

Dorian waited for her move, and so is everyone in the hall.

Cove’s eyes are cloudy—dark rain clouds which saturated the red suit he’s rocking. His irises felt it too.

He wasn’t looking at Dorian. His eyes stayed glued on Stacy as he awaited her hand on his own.

But Stacy had other plans.

She separated herself from Dorian.

“The music, from the beginning!” She shouted , and the speakers obeyed her voice. It was immediate.

Oblivion began playing from the beginning, and the hall lights dimmed just enough for the chandelier crystals to glitter like suspended stars.

Dorian’s usual golden retriever energy was gone. What replaced it was something steadier. Hungrier.

The crowd sensed it instantly.

“May I?” he asked softly.

Stacy didn’t answer. She simply placed her hand in his, ignoring the existence of Cove completely.

The contact was electric.

Dorian’s fingers didn’t just hold hers—they slid between them, interlocking slowly, tightening as the first sharp note of the music sliced through the air.

Dorian’s other hand moved to her waist, firmly.

He drew her in with a single controlled pull.

Her body met his chest in a soft collision, the impact subtle, but enough to make her inhale sharply.

The crowd audibly reacted.

And this is the part where Cove’s hand went down. Like he didn’t just get abandoned and rejected on stage.

He walked out of the hall, and his head quake returned in folds.

Before he arrived back at his car, he was already seeing rainbow.

No—the whole galaxy.

Inside the hall, the first steps of the tango were slow and measured.

Dorian guided Stacy backward, his palm pressing gently at the curve of her lower back, fingertips splayed as if grounding her there.

Every time she stepped, the slit of her dress opened, her thigh brushing against his leg in deliberate passes.

Dorian pivoted, and their hips aligned for a suspended second before he rotated her under his arm.

As she turned, his fingers trailed from her hand down to her wrist—not releasing her completely.

He kept that thread of connection alive, and when he caught her again, it was closer.

Much closer.

Her chest rose and fell against his own as the tempo sharpened.

He guided her into a tight circle, his hand sliding from her waist to the curve of her hip to adjust her angle.

His thumb pressed lightly into the fabric, steadying her before the next sharp movement.

Gasps rippled through the students.

Dorian stepped forward.

Stacy stepped back.

Their legs crossed and uncrossed in quick, intricate patterns. At one beat, her thigh pressed fully against his own as she hooked her leg around his own briefly—not clinging, just anchoring before before releasing in a precise smooth glide.

The crowd roared.

Dorian spun her fast.

The rhinestones on her dress caught every light in the room, scattering flashes across the ceiling.

When he pulled her back in, his grip tightened slightly at her waist—not rough, but protective.

Possessive.

The music slowed, and he lifted her arm, guiding it around his shoulder instead of above her head.

Their bodies aligned completely now. No space between them.

The heat was undeniable. Her hand rested at the nape of his neck.

His hand slid lower along her back, stopping right above her hip as he dipped her slowly—just enough to tilt her world.

Their faces hovered inches apart.

The cheering of students blurred into background noise.

This is starting to look like a romance play—too real.

The music cut, and he lifted her smoothly back to standing, but didn’t step away immediately.

His hand lingered at her hip. Their fingers were still intertwined, foreheads almost touching.

And the crowd?

Absolute chaos.

Students screaming. Whistling. Phones raised. People standing on chairs, chanting both their names like they’d just won something bigger than a dance.

Because tonight?

Dorian Wesley didn’t just show up, he showed her exactly how it would feel to be chosen.

The cheers were still ringing when he lifted her from the dip.

But he didn’t let go.

His hand stayed at her waist. Hers lingered against his chest.

They were breathing the same air now—too close to pretend it was just performance.

He leaned in slowly, foreheads nearly touching.

The crowd quieted, sensing it.
His eyes dropped to her lips.

For one dangerous second, it looked like he was going to kiss her.

The tension thickened. A few students gasped.

He moved closer, then shifted at the last moment.

Instead of her mouth, he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to her forehead.

The crowd exploded.

When he pulled back, their foreheads rested together, noses almost brushing, breaths uneven.

And somehow, that drove everyone crazier.

This time, the remaining Glitz girls were finally able to scream what they’ve been holding in.

“I swear Dorian if you don’t let Stacy be your video vixen in your next music video, it’d be wasteful. This is so Fuçkin perfect!” Tasha shouted, her phone angled well.

“Whoa!” Tania clapped. “I never knew I’d love a tango performance in this life. Take all my money!”

“Yeah this is phenomenal I wanna cry! Stacy is so beautiful, help!” Kehlani sniffled.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Tasha laughed.

“But she’s beautiful let me hype please! And Dorian? That smile…they have to date after tonight I swear! If I have to apologize for what we did to his concert, then I will…he’s so burning hot!” Kehlani sniffled again.

“Glad I witnessed tonight!” Tania screamed elatedly.

• This is so gorgeous.

• I’d pay any amount to watch that performance again.

• The chemistry? It’s on steroids!

• Am I the only one who want them to date already?

• Me too! They’re so cute!

• I’m gonna cry, stop!

Amidst all the comments, Zendaya was nowhere to be heard.

She’s not in the hall anymore.

Elmira left the hall in anger. Seeing Dorian alone is infuriating, but seeing him win with Stacy of all people? She could die of anger.

“That was some sick Sh|t, I admit. The craziest tango performance I’ve ever witnessed,” Frank said.

“You’re not allowed to compliment any of them, Frank.” Remo said, staring at his phone and waiting for the text from Elmira.

And it came immediately.

Elmira: Now.

Remo smiled creepily, looking around to sight Kehlani, then he grabbed a ÇOçktail glass and began going to her.

Immediately he left, Scott felt pressed, so he went in search of a bathroom to do his business.

Now it’s just Frank and Max left in that angle.

“You’ve been wordless,” Frank noticed, facing Max.

“Elmira has some Sh|t up her sleeves, I can’t quite place it,” Max muttered, pouring wine in his glass.

“Are you scared of your hooker? Or you’re scared of your girlfriend?” Frank asked, drinking the wine.

“Scared of Kehlani?” Max rolled eyes. “It’s pity, I just pity her. She can’t live without me so she might just jump in a volcano or something.”

“Bad Boy!” Frank laughed, and their glasses clinked.

Outside the hall, the former king and queen picture has left the screen.

Now it’s the picture of Dorian and Stacy captured during the dance.

And this is exactly when they left the stage, with prestige. Stacy nearly fell cos her tall heels are killing.

Dorian quickly held her by the arm till they entered the hall free room.

“You ok?” He asked.

“I’m used to tall heels, but I’ve never danced tango in them before, so you could say I’m overstimulated,” she bit her lip unintentionally.

“Pull it off?” Dorian offered, and she immediately raised her right heel to pull off, but Dorian went down and pulled it off her instead.

She quickly held his shoulders.

“Did someone pay you to be a romance geek tonight?” She said with a wide smile.

“We just finished dancing tango, and it’s common knowledge that tango can’t work if there’s no chemistry between the partners, Stace,” he looked up.

“Aw,” she sounded teasingly.

He took off her second heel too, squinting. “Um…did your feet grow from childhood at all? Why the fûck is it so small? Even your hands felt so Fuçkin little during the dance,” His voice was mocking as he talked

“Small stature, small feet, small hands. It works that way, bullhead,” she slapped his shoulder, and he rose with a low, playful squirm.

Now he’s standing in front of her, holding her heels in his left hand. Stacy’s height felt folded in front of him, and he can count how many curls are in her hair right now, but that’s not the point, cos he’s staring into her eyes instead.

She stared back, her eyes holding something even she herself can’t pinpoint.

She opened her mouth…

“Um….”

“No don’t get awkward,” Dorian replied, and she chuckled hard.

“I promise it’s not awkwardness, but maybe you’re a bit hotter tonight?” She said straight.

“Oh… I’ve always been hot to you?” Dorian got serious.

“We need to talk, Rian,” Angela suddenly appeared, eating up their privacy.

“Angel…hey…” Dorian sighed.

“Like I said…we need to talk,” Angela remained planted there like stubborn grass root.

“I’m gonna go talk to her,” Dorian told Stacy.

“Take your time,” Stacy replied.

Angela gave her a scorching stare before following Dorian away.

Stacy rolled eyes. “Why was she giving me that evil eye?”

She pulled out her phone and went online to check what was happening.

She was hyper when she saw all attention on herself—and Dorian.

Every single major group, even the IG feeds of the students.

Stacy Montana.

Dorian Wesley.

Stacy Montana.

Dorian’s crew must have posted his dance pictures with her cos they’ve been uploaded on his page since twenty minutes ago when the dance was only just starting.

And the likes? The comments?

She was reading and smiling.

Tasha sent her pictures of her that she took on stage, and Stacy posted them immediately.

18 slides.

It’s like her followers have been waiting. One minute, 300+ comments, and she nearly screamed.

But in her comments, she realized she and Dorian aren’t the only people trending after all.

There’s a third name.

Covey Fabio.

• Duh, I personally think Cove would have done the dance better.

• Nah, he came late, his name isn’t even supposed to be mentioned.

• But I love his suit! It even matched Stacy’s dress!

• The brows! Why is no one talking about his brows? Whoever shaped it is from heaven! It’s perfect!

• Dorian is the new king, no Cove talks please!

• Cove is the original!

Stacy dropped her phone when she couldn’t go on with reading the comments anymore.

Now her mind went to him.

She might be angry when he came in earlier, but not enough to not notice the thin sweat on his temples.

He was sweating slightly, and his eyes were slightly red, too.

Now that she thinks about it, his palm was white like there’s no blood in it when he tendered it.

Is he ok?

Wait…why is she even worrying??

That boy? He might just enter this place right now and go… ‘Dullard Montana, your dance was sour!’

It’s not something he can’t do, so she has to stop getting worried.

She breathed in, standing up.

But genuinely…is he ok?

A message popped out on the group, and she gasped as she read.

There’s gonna be an after-party after this Mixer, and she’s just hearing?

More like clubbing.

“I can’t party in this dress,” she muttered.

She needs one of her slutty outfits, so she texted Anita to bring one over, but Anita isn’t replying.

She’s not picking calls too.

—