HOOKED ON HER

STEPHANIE'S POV

Chills rise up my spine as Momma spins around quickly and locks the door. She pulls on the handle for good measure, making sure the lock is secure.

Nervously, I grab ahold of my suitcase tighter and wrap my arms aroundme. A breeze blows past, making my body shiver.

I don't know if it is the nightaround us, or all that we are attempting to escape, but suddenly a knot begins to form in my stomach and fear rises all around me as I stand on the front porch and wait for my next instruction.

"I won't stay here to be made a fool," Momma grumbles in her thick Georgia accent as she stashes the key in her pocket and turns to face me. Her eyes soften for a moment as she sees me and takes in the look in my eye.

Gently, she reaches up and cups the side of my face. She smiles tenderly for a moment and somehow just that gesture alone eases some of my fear.

"It is just you and me Stephie," she whispers in the night before quickly turning and looking around her as if scared that someone might hear.

My ear hears a noise in the background and we both jump. Birds take flightout of a nearby tree and I watch as they coast through the sky far away from here and I frown knowing that we are about to do the same and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

Soon, everything I ever knew will all be gone. Every place and every person I have ever met will be but a distant far awaymemory. Tears prick my eyes as I turn back and look at my mother.

The tenderness in her stare is now gone, and she grabs my hand tightly, pulling me down the steps from the run-down shotgun house I grew up in and out onto the gravel road.

"Come on baby," she insists, as she tugs my hand harder forcing me tofollow along faster. "I know you don't understand now, but one day you will."

Her words, though worrisome, somehow start to make everything a little more okay.

Momma is the only thing I have. Over the years growing up, I tried to make friends at school; every time I did, they didn't last long. No one wants their daughter associating with white trash. At least that is what I heard one of my short-lived friend's mother say when I was just ten.

The one night I was fortunate enough to attend my only sleepover I have ever been to in the 15 years I have unfortunately been alive.

When I was younger, it was easier to ignore even though I always heard parents whisper when I would come to school. Holes in my sneakers, stains on my dress, I was oblivious to it all. Until the night I finally got up the nerve to beg Momma to let me go to Tracy's party.

Ten years old is young, but old enough to learn the lesson of where I belong, and I didn't belong on the other side of the tracks, no matter how hard I tried.

Momma tugs my hand tighter as we make our way out to the road. Holding my hand is a gesture she hasn't forced since I was little, but tonight she is hell-bent on not letting me go as if she is worried that I am old enough to make up my own mind and fight. Fight to stay behind, in a world where I am not wanted.

And even though the thought occurred to me, I would be lost without Momma. The only choice is to follow. After a few more minutes, I force my hand away and she turns to look at me over her shoulder but never breaks stride.

Once she sees I am not turning around, that I am still following, she smiles and faces forward. We walk in silence as I try and piece together everything that led to Momma's sudden decision to flee. To leave everything behind in the middle of the night. I can't help but think whatever it is has to be worse than I could imagine.

Momma is a strong woman. She always stood up for me and always took my side when kids would tease me or when bullies follow me home. I could never imagine a reason why she would run. She always had more courage than anyone I ever knew and faced everything in life head-on.

She's been fighting for almost as long as I can remember. Soon after Daddy died when I was five, Momma got sick and has been in and out of the doctors since.

I take care of her, and her once full of life exterior has faded to frail and a sad shadow of the woman she once was. Still, I know the woman in front of me never backs down without a fight. So what is making her run now?

We come to a bus stop down the road from the house and Momma takes amoment to drop her suitcase and wrap her coat around her. She begins to cough, a nasty raspy cough, as she pulls her pack of cigarettes from her pocket and lights one.

"Momma," I scold. "You shouldn't be smoking. I thought you quit?"

She takes a large inhale off of her smoke and slowly lets it out. The white cloud mixes with the cool damp evening air and hangs in it as she turns to look at me.

"Just one baby," she pleads. "My nerves are shot." She backs away and tries to smooth out her appearance as she fumbles with her hands, straightening her shirt.

"I mean to look at me you'd swear I was more nervous than a whore in church on Easter Sunday."She laughs, but I can't help but frown as I see her shaking hand come up before she takes another drag off her cigarette. I've seen Momma many ways before, but never as upset as this.

Standing, staring at her for a moment, I watch her as she takes drag after drag from her smoke nervously and looks around us.

A knot forms in the pit of my stomach and I can't help but wonder why. So many questions in my mind begin with that word, and I fear I will never have any of the answers. But Momma has never steered me wrong before, having been the only one I've ever had to rely on, to never leave my side my entire life.

I push those thoughts, the questions, the unknowns, the fear to the back of my mind as I stand next to her in the gravel and wait, scared, nervous, anxious, trying to understand and wrap my brain around just where we are going and what that means for my future.

I hear the tires of the bus come down the road before I even have to look. Headlights shine down the street in front of us as I watch Momma throw her smoke to the floor and snuff it out.

When the bus comes to a stop, I look up just as the large doors swing open and a man who looks like he has been up for four days straight stares back down at the two of us.

"Where you headed?" He asks, as he eyes Momma up and down before licking his lips.

I can't deny Momma has always been a looker, but the gesture makes me shiver and I swallow over a nervous lump in my throat as he turns to look at me and a glimmer flashes in his eyes before a sick grin spreads across his face.

"Anywhere but here," Momma says as she tugs on my hand and we both quickly grab our suitcases. Once each, the only thing Momma would allow us both to take.

She climbs the step in front of me and I follow timidly. Every step up the metal surface a finality of sorts, taking me away from all that I have ever called home. I watch sadly as she hands the man two tickets before we pass by to find our seats.

"Next stop is Colorado." The man says as me and Momma walk towardsthe back of the slightly empty cab. "From there you can catch another ride further West, if you want."

Momma nods, even though the man can't see her, as we make our way to the last row. The doors close as I slump down into my seat and worry my bottom lip between my teeth as I look out the window to my world slowly slipping away.

"Don't look back, baby." I hear Momma say to me. I close my eyes as tears threaten to fall before looking over at her.

"Nothing good ever came from looking back." She smiles at me and pulls me close.

I rest my head on her shoulder as the bus jerks and bounces us down the gravel road, away from home and towards the unknown.

Something even with all the teasing, bullying, and lonely days and nights I never wanted.

AUSTIN'S POV

8 years later

"A bet is a bet, Aust!" Chase, my college roommate, taunts me as we step out of the truck and he slams the door to the cab making me realize the finality of the situation.

"I knew your ass wouldn't follow through. Chicken shit!"

I roll my eyes and square my shoulders. I've been called a lot of things in my life, but never chicken. I don't back down from anything, even if I was well over the limit last night at the bar after which I agreed to his bet that because with a sober mind, I would have known better enough to never take.

"What makes you think I am chickening out," I throw back, as the warm southern California sun warms my back. I stretch my arms over my head to buy time and look his way.

His smug ass smile almost pushes me to my limit and I have to stifle the laugh that wishes to escape. He thinks I am not going to go through with this, but hell, it is only hair. It will grow back.

"What," he teases as he takes a few steps towards the shops entrance. "Afraid the ladies won't fall at your feet if you chop it off? You're like damn Uncle Jim from that stupid 90s sitcom. Just think of all the money your ass will save on conditioner."

I laugh at him as I slowly follow his lead. "Easy for you to say," I joke, even though if I am being honest with myself I am a little fucking nervous.

"The ladies all fall to your feet, regardless. I don't remember a time when you didn't have a different girl every day of the week warming your bed."

"Fall to their feet, knees, whatever works," Chase says as he winks and pulls open the door leading to the salon.

I laugh as the cool burst of air from inside hits me as I walk across the threshold.

Coming to stand at my side, Chase and I wait before walking in any further. The smell of hair products assaults my senses and I watch as women everywhere run back and forth. Their clients sit in chairs in front of large mirrors.

There is at least three sitting in the waiting room for appointments and my eye quickly scans the room taking in the scene in front of me where at least 10 booths are already occupied.

"Well shit," Chase says as he takes a few steps forward to the counter.

"I didn't think we'd have to wait. Why the hell is this place busy on a Monday at 2:30 in the afternoon."

I follow him up to the counter slowly, wishing I could kick myself in my ass for being a fool last night and thinking I could out hit Chase on the field.

When we were done at the local bar closest to campus at Long Beach State, we strolled our drunk asses over to the ball park and broke in. Chase might not play the game, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have one hell of a swing.

It took me over an hour to realize he wasn't nearly as drunk as my stupid ass. By the time he bet me he could knock more balls out of the park than me, and if he won I had to shave my head, I was already too cocky to care.

Hell if I am not paying for it right now though, in more ways than one. This shop and my slightly throbbing head are evident of that.

"I'm sorry someone will be right with you," an irritated worker says as she comes behind the front counter, grabs a supply, and then storms back off towards her booth.

Chase leans against the counter and lets out a harsh sigh. "I'd be a whole lot better if you were the one helping me, Sweetheart." He whistles after her, which gets her to stop in her tracks and swing around to meet his stare.

She glares at him at first, until he smiles, and then she is damn putty in his hands. Her shy stare makes me roll my eyes as she flirts back by smiling, a God ass stupid smile that only means one thing – I'm yours if you want me – before she flips her hair over her shoulder, stands up straighter to push her barely B cup boobs in his line of sight and takes a couple steps backwards.

"If you're not in a hurry, I can help you next," she purrs, before turning around and starting her walk back to her booth. "I'm just about done..." she looks over her shoulder and stares at Chase.

"And I have a break between clients coming up." She gives him a wink and I have to fight the urge to laugh at her over the top gesture to let him know just exactly what she has on her mind.

When she finally breaks his stare and goes back to her work, Chase's low laugh rings through my ears. "God, you know Aust!" He says, grabbing a hold of my shoulder and making me look him in the eyes.

"Sometimes, it is just too damn easy. I like a woman who makes me work for it."

Something flashes across his features, a recognition of sorts, but I forget I even see it flash in his eyes when a girl suddenly appears walking out of the back room located to the right of the front counter.

She stumbles and drops one of the items she is carrying. Her dark hair cascades over her face, and my eyes immediately search to see more.

As if pulled on a damn wire, I round the counter and come to her side. Kneeling to the floor, I help her pick-up her items as my eyes search to see her own.

She pulls a few strands of hair behind her ear and finally looks up through her adorable as f**k glasses and shyly smiles.

Innocent. Genuine .Pure.

The look she gives me grabs to a place inside and sparks something back to life that I haven't felt in years. Thirteen or fourteen to be exact.

And I find myself needing to feel a little more of just exactly what she gives me as I kneel beside her. Something that has been so void in my life for over a damn decade.

The feeling, knowledge, fucking truth that there is still authentic, natural, and perfectly wholesome people left in this world.

AUSTIN'S POV

"Thank you," she whispers, as her blue eyes find mine briefly before she stands and begins to stare back at the floor in front of us. She hugs the items to her chest and I stand back up straight before looking down to notice her small frame.

Petite, but with curves in the right places. A perfect fucking figure eight I would love to run my hands around.

Slowly, leisurely, as I memorized every damn mouth watering inch of her skin. "It was my pleasure," I say as I take a step closer.

My senses are on overload and I can't help the unnerving feeling that my soul knows hers. I know I have never seen her before. Shit I would remember a girl as beautiful as her.

Hell, I would remember the feeling of just being next to her. Like every cell in my body is on high alert, needing to feel more, know more, and never ever let her out of my sight.

"Stephanie!" The same irritated girl from earlier yells behind me. The woman in question in front of me, who I now know is Stephanie, jumps and a small piece of my heart jolts with her.

"Where have you been?" She snaps as I turn to look in her direction and watch as she angrily begins cutting her clients hair.

"We have customers who have been waiting!" She looks to Chase and gives him that same sex-kitten smile, and I can't help but want to say something, anything to knock it off her damn face.

"I'm sorry," Stephanie says, as she scurries around me and makes her way back towards the counter. She sets down her items as I walk back to my spot on the opposite side. Her small hand comes up and I watch as her pointer finger pushes her glasses back up her adorable nose.

Without looking up at us, she clicks the computer to life and frowns a little having been reprimanded by who I can only guess is her boss.

"What can I do for you?" She asks shyly.

"My boy here needs a shave," Chase said as he watches her through a slightly confused stare. It isn't often that woman don't look up and fall all over him like her boss earlier. I can tell he doesn't know how to take it that Stephanie isn't even slightly phased by his presence.

Finally her stare breaks from her screen and she locks eyes with me. My breath hitches in my throat and my hands begin to sweat a little from the way her stare makes me feel.

More alive than I have ever felt before, and damn nervous as hell. Something I pride myself on never feeling when it comes to members of the opposite sex.

"We don't do that here," she stutters, obviously very puzzled.

"But there is a barbershop..."

"His head," Chase interjects. She looks to him quickly. "You do have hair clippers here, don't you?" He teases and I watch as she flinches, his comment making her eyes sad with the way he just basically made her feel like an idiot.

Instinctively, my hand comes up and I knock his dumb ass on the back of his head. He glares at me before rubbing the spot I just smacked.

The asshole! Maybe he is not as, dare I say, in tune with the girl across the counter as I am. That thought alone, and the fact that I just met the girl and I'm so drawn to her, immediately makes me shift on my feet.

I've never been this crazed. Never felt this immediate pull. I've heard about it, but hell I thought this kind of crap was reserved for Hallmark bullshit my step mother watches around Christmas time. And f**k, as nervous as that thought makes me, I can't deny there is a high, a euphoria, a need to drown in this damn feeling longer.

Even more unnerving is the decision in my head that is already made up. The one telling me I will do anything to let myself because damn it, there is something about her that makes me want more.

To understand her more.

To protect her and the cute naive way she is trying to hide behind those sexy librarian glasses. Her shyness, it makes me want to shelter her and make her see what I see when I look at her.

Something she obviously doesn't feel inside as she hides behind the counter and the glasses that shield her breathtaking eyes from the world.

F**k me, she is drop dead gorgeous. I can't help but stare as I stand across the counter from her and take her all in, from the top of her long dark brown hair to her red painted toes.

I feel myself lean over the counter and notice everyone look up at me, except her, like I am bat shit crazy as my second head, the one controlled by testosterone, makes my eyes slowly roam up her frame.

But to hell with them, because I've never had an experience like this before and like any new drug, you have to go with the flow and enjoy the ride. And this girl, and the high I get while I am around her, it is slowly sucking me in the longer I am in her presence.

I want to know her.

See her, all of her. If she'll just fucking let me.

The woman from earlier walks up to the counter and gives my new obsession a heated look.

"Do we have a problem here?" She asks angrily and obviously annoyed before glancing up at Chase and I.

"Nothing you can't help fix," he says, leaning further across the counter.

"How about that break?"The woman glances at me before meeting Chase's stare once more.

"What about your friend?"

"Lost a bet, needs his head shaved. Nothing this girl can't do," he says, gesturing towards Stephanie.

"Stephanie is still in training," the woman snaps back. "I'm afraid.."

"Oh come on," Chase persists.

"You don't need training to shave a head! Hell, I'd do it myself if I had the clippers. Let the trainee do it, and me and you can... take a walk." He winks.