𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 is your average do-good lawyer on the rise to fame as a representative of young victims. Except her motivations aren't all that innocent. Rayne's only goal is to run from her past, to leave confrontation for the courtroom, no...
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𝗥ayne pushed her phone into her back pocket while fixing her posture, and standing up straighter at the same time. There was something off about the guy in front of her – and the fact that he needed her for something. Goosebumps lined her arms and legs as her anxiety set in; she was uncomfortable. The biggest issue with herself was how she reacts to men. With that – she could never tell if their actions were innocent or creepy nor could she properly perceive one. It's not until she saw how they acted; did she ever feel calm in the presence of a man. She could thank her trauma – for that.
Still, she had never seen this man before. To ask for her attention, concerned her.
"Are you going to tell me what or ...?" she started, realizing he wasn't going to initiate the conversation.
He rubbed his neck awkwardly, his face flushing in what was probably embarrassment, "Yeah I'm sorry," he stuttered, clearing his throat, "—I just had a question. I hope I didn't scare you or anything by saying you could help me even though we don't know each other – you're just the only one standing here so..." he rambled on.
Rayne let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in; relax. It's an innocent interaction.
"Okay, ask away?"
"This might sound weird, but my mom just flew in from New York today and she knows like nothing about the area and to be honest, she's a news freak so she's always looking at the issues over here and like obviously they're not good," he laughed to himself, shaking his hair, "—anyways, I wanted to come to this cupcake place to sway her opinion with sweets, and I know this place has good reviews, but in all honesty I've never been here and so—" he took a deep breath, "do you know if the strawberry cupcakes are any good??"
Rayne couldn't figure which emotion she felt, never mind which one rendered on her face. Due to that, she stood looking at him flatly for a moment, processing the difference in vibe she got from him. His eyes grew softer with each syllable. He just looked like a happy man, interested in buying his mother some cupcakes to be more supportive of his living arrangements. She allowed a smile to grow on her face as he rubbed his neck in embarrassment again. His cheeks were pink and his knuckles were practically white as they were gripping the skateboard tightly.
"The strawberry is probably my favorite after the vanilla. They're very good," she said happily.
"Really?! Awesome!" he exclaimed, turning towards the display box. His free hand spread across the glass and it was only then did she realize how bruised they were. The skin on of his knuckles were practically ripped off, swollen, and looked scabbed over. His hands themselves were rough and covered in scars.
Injuries like that don't happen from skateboarding ... do they?
She had no knowledge on the sport, but still ... something about him seemed ... off.
