Summary: Aleigha is a good girl gone bad. She’s going to try to keep both parts of herself.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, Pixelberry studios does!
Author’s Note: This flew off my fingers and is one of my favorite ideas I’ve had. I love good girl gone bad Aleigha. Ingrid starts as the narrator briefly, but MC will be the narrator for almost all the rest.
Tagging: @desiree-0816 because she is my ROD encourager. Also @brightpinkpeppercorn and @princessstellaris because 100 years ago (June or July) when I wrote a Logan x MC fic they were so kind to comment and ask to be put on a tag list!
Songs: Middle Child, Miss America, Motiv8 by J. Cole
Ingrid
“Where are you going?” Ingrid asked as Aleigha as she flat-ironed her hair one last time. Ingrid took in her roommate’s zebra Yeezy Boost’s, prison orange pants with a cutout where she could see Aleigha’s black lace panties, black bandeau showing severe underboob, and thick orange choker.
“Out,” Aleigha said as she applied some nude lipstick.
“What on earth are you wearing? You look like a traffic cone,” Ingrid shoved a bite of takeout into her mouth.
“A hot traffic cone?” Aleigha stuck out her tongue as she touched up her mascara.
More like a hot mess, Ingrid thought. Out loud she said, “You’ll have no shortage of guys who want to fuck you, that’s for sure.”
“Good. That means they’ll underestimate me.”
“Aleigha, where are you going?” Ingrid insisted. Who was Aleigha talking about that would underestimate her? Ingrid never knew what Aleigha was talking about, but especially not when she was being so cryptic.
“Out.”
Ingrid blew out an exasperated breath at her roommate. All throughout the summer, Aleigha would take off for hours upon end, and she had no idea where she went. Whenever Ingrid would text her, she would get a ‘Message Not Delivered’ response. But, as long as Aleigha kept her side of the room clean and didn’t wake her up when she came home late, Ingrid didn’t really care where Aleigha was going and what she was doing with her time.
Maybe she should have cared a little more.
Aleigha
Aleigha left her dorm in what she knew was the most revealing outfit she could possibly have worn. It had taken her months to find the underground racing connections in Boston, but with a well-placed bet on the MLB All-Star game, she won one name.
With that one name, she had been able to prove she was a damn good driver. She outsmarted more experienced drivers, outpaced faster cars, and took down whole crews. Tonight was her first night attending an actual sideshow since LA. It was her first night competing as the solo driver ever.
She got into her firetruck red car, and batted, in order, the dice hanging from her rearview window, the sparkplug necklace next to it, and the cactus ornament on her dash. After one last glance, she put LA out of her mind.
Every day she thought about getting a new paint job. She knew it wouldn’t change anything about anyone finding her, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She’d dyed her hair blonde, she’d gotten blue-colored contacts, she’d gotten a phoenix sleeve tattoo. But changing her car was something she wasn’t ready to do.
She flicked on her stereo, turning up J. Cole’s The Fall Off album, losing herself in the beat and the poetry. She loved driving in races, the precision, the strategy, the adrenaline all made her feel alive. Aleigha was a student, always studying the best outcomes and the best means to the desire end. And so, she was well-suited to racing. But, she loved letting go and just driving for fun. Like right now.
10 minutes later, she pulled up at the location. As she got out and stood out in front of her car, she knew that all her hard work had paid off. Not to get into Langston, instead, to get into this sideshow. She was finally home.
After a couple hours of interacting with people, talking about her car and her experience in Boston, trying to get anyone to take her on their crew, the races finally started. She had made it into the second to last one, the headliner was some out of towner everyone referred to as “The Troublemaker”. The irony of that being Logan’s nickname for her was not lost on her, but when she asked what he drove, she was told he drove some model she’d never heard of, not a Devore GT.
“Why do you care, Babe? It’s not him you’ll be going home with at the end of the night,” a burly man in a wifebeater said, leaning down toward her.
Internally, she cringed, but externally, she winked and said, “I know I’ll need some consoling if the Troublemaker beats me tonight. You’ll be on the list, big guy.”
He grinned, a big toothless grin, and finally walked away. She shuddered, then got into her car to drive it up to the start. As she fiddled with her radio, trying to get the volume on the right number, her playlist in the right order, and her ornaments in the right position, she heard other cars pull up next to her. Deciding to ignore them, she looked up at the girl holding the flag and wearing the same outfit she was, basically, and waited for the signal.
I’m counting my bullets
I’m loading my clips
I’m writing down names
I’m making a list
I’m checking it twice and I’m getting ‘em hit
The real ones been dyin’
The fake ones is lit
This game is off balance
I’m back on my shit
The Bentley is dirty
My sneakers is dirty
But that’s how I like it
She took in a deep breath, and then the flag went down. In an instant she had thrown her car into gear and jumped to a fast start. She maneuvered out in front of her competitors and was flying down the track.
Even if it was a bit flawed, her strategy was start ahead and stay ahead. She knew her car was not as fast as others, so sometimes she wouldn’t be able to win with that strategy, but if she fooled people into thinking she couldn’t maintain it and she did, she’d be fine. She banked on everyone underestimating her and thinking she was naïve. So she leaned into it a lot.
And the fact that she timed her playlist to the track she was driving required her to start ahead and stay ahead.
A glance in her rearview told her a car was keeping up right behind her. She knew that trying to block out this one car would probably mean that someone else would pass her. So she let him pull alongside her. She didn’t dare look, but she knew it had to be The Troublemaker.
They stayed that way around curves and corners and past the halfway mark and all the way to the final straightaway. She knew he was going to be very precise when he turned on his NOS, so she would have to be on her A game.
She held until she knew she heard her cue to release.
Fuck the man, Uncle Sam I won’t sell your crack
I won’t fight your wars, I won’t wear your hat
I’mma pass your classes, I’mma learn your craft
I’mma fuck your daughters, I’mma burn your flag
As soon as she heard it, she released the valve. She shot out in front of the person next to her and knew he had done it a second too late. She knew she had won. All she had to do was hold her car straight.
When she crossed the line a few moments ahead of the other driver, she sighed in relief. It was nice to have beaten someone who was pretty renowned at her first sideshow. She grinned and cranked her music, listening to her last few bars.
Too many times I swallowed my pride
I'm crackin' a smile, I'm dyin' inside
My demons are close, I'm tryin' to hide
I'm poppin' a pill, I'm feelin' alive
She was lost in the lyrics when she heard a knock on her window. Looking out, she saw the sideshow organizer looking in at her.
“You getting out,” he glanced down at his list and read her name, “Lennon St. James?”
“Yes. One second,” she turned to her glovebox and pulled out an orange hat, just to cover herself a little more and make herself even less recognizable.
She walked over to claim her prize money, getting second looks from all the people who had spoken to her earlier and told her they didn’t have room for her in their crew. A couple of men whistled at her still, but now looked like they had a healthy fear of her.
Aleigha took the cash the organizer held out to her, then turned to head back to her car. She was bumped by whoever the second-place finisher was on his way to get the cash on her way back. It knocked her off center and she fell to the ground, disgusted.
“Hey!” she shouted, glancing up into a familiar pair of chocolate brown eyes.
“You know, there are easier ways to get my attention.”
that rod chapter,,, wow,,,,, logan i love you so much i would do anything for u.
the way he’s so ready to sacrifice everything for us says so much. i love him :pensive:
the way i switched up from colt so fast fjhdhgdgjg .
mona UWU i love her SM and omg INGRID! making up w ingrid was top 2 moments of rod and let me tell u it Wasn’t 2! her lowkey jab at being valedictorian JFHDJDHDJD i loved !
gosh i love every li sm other than colt,, colt is slowly disappearing from my mind ffhgdjhgdhgg
