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Sweet Sweat, and Other Lies
🕑 Added 2025-02-01 23:42:37 +0000 UTCLucy tossed a pack of gum, a bottle of water, and a suspicious-looking package of Endless Drive: Odorless Perspiration Formula onto the gas station counter. The cashier, a lanky guy with a faded name tag that just read “Mike,” scanned the items with all the enthusiasm of a man who had long since stopped questioning people’s purchases.
Then she added the condoms.
Mike glanced up, his eyes flicking between the supplements and the box before raising an eyebrow. “Well, at least you’re planning ahead.”
Lucy smirked, leaning one elbow on the counter. “What can I say? I like to be considerate.” She tapped the canister. “You ever heard of these?”
Mike flipped it over, scanning the label. “Yeah. Truckers swear by ‘em. Supposed to make your sweat smell like vanilla or some crap.”
“Uh-huh. And do they work?”
He shrugged. “I mean, I had a guy come in last week saying his armpits smelled like birthday cake. But that coulda just been the power of suggestion.”
Lucy snorted. “So, best case, I smell like a candle aisle. Worst case, I just paid ten bucks to be scammed.”
“Pretty much.” Mike slid her change across the counter. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
She pocketed the coins and grabbed her bag. “Just some sap who thinks I’m a good idea.”
Mike chuckled. “Well, hope he appreciates the effort. Or at least the placebo effect.”
Lucy grinned as she pushed open the door, the night air hitting her like a fresh start. Placebo effect or not, tonight was about to get interesting.
Lucy swung into the driver’s seat, tossing the gas station bag onto the passenger side. The box of condoms peeked out from under the receipt, half-crushed by the box of questionable supplements. She smirked to herself. Vanilla-scented sweat. If nothing else, Davie would get a kick out of it.
The car rumbled to life, headlights cutting through the dark stretch of road ahead. A familiar bassline spilled from the speakers—something old, something moody, something she used to blast through cheap headphones in high school. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, keeping time with the song, her mind half on the lyrics, half on the night ahead.
She wasn’t nervous. Not really.
It was just… Davie had this way of looking at her, like she was something rare and important, and she wasn’t sure she’d done anything to deserve that. It wasn’t just about tonight, either. He wasn’t the type to treat sex like some casual, throwaway thing, which meant—whether he said it outright or not—this wasn’t just about fun for him.
And she liked fun.
That was the problem.
She sighed, rolling down the window. Cool air rushed in, tangling in her hair. She focused on the road, on the neon signs blurring past. The date itself would be easy. It always was. They’d eat, they’d talk, she’d make him laugh, he’d do that thing where he softened at the edges and said something almost too sincere, and she’d pretend she didn’t feel it settling somewhere deep in her chest.
That was the cycle. Keep it light. Keep it moving.
The streetlights stretched thin over the pavement as she turned onto Davie’s block. His place wasn’t fancy, but it was his—a little too neat for her taste, a little too careful, like he was always bracing for someone to judge him for it. Though, living with his Mother, that expectation was likely justified.
She parked, grabbed the bag, and climbed out. Before she could knock, the door swung open. Davie stood there, sleeves rolled up, hair a little messy, looking every bit the picture of someone who had been overthinking.
Lucy grinned, stepping inside like she owned the place. “I come bearing gifts,” she announced, tossing the canister at him.
Davie caught it, squinting at the label. “‘Endless Drive’? What is this?”
“Trucker sweat magic,” she said, kicking off her boots. “You take it, and boom—your body odor smells like a fancy candle.”
Davie huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he turned the bottle over. “And you bought this because…?”
Lucy flopped onto his couch, stretching out like a cat. “Because I make excellent financial decisions, obviously.”
He was still reading the label, eyebrows drawn together. That was the thing about Davie—he never just humored her. He really considered things, even the stupidest ones.
“Vanilla,” he murmured, almost to himself.
Lucy smirked. “What, you into that? You wanna smell like a bakery?”
He set the bottle down, finally looking at her. That warm, easy look that always knocked her a little off balance. “I dunno. If you like vanilla, maybe I should.”
The way he said it—completely sincere, no teasing—made something tighten in her chest.
She waved a hand, dismissive. “Nah. Keep your regular, tragic boy smell. I like it just fine.”
Davie smiled, small but real. “Good to know.”
Lucy rolled her eyes, but her stomach did this weird, stupid flip. She ignored it, because that was the rule. Keep it light. Keep it moving.
And yet, when he sat down beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, she thought—just for a second—that maybe tonight would be different. Maybe, just once, she could stop playing it safe.
Davie reached for the remote, but his eyes flicked to the gas station bag still sitting on the coffee table. “What else did you buy?”
Lucy smirked, stretching her arms over her head. “Oh, you know. The essentials.”
She grabbed the bag and casually flipped it over, letting the rest of her purchases spill onto the table—pack of gum, bottle of water, and, sitting right in the middle like it belonged there, the box of condoms.
Davie’s hand, halfway to the remote, froze.
Lucy watched his reaction, her head tilting slightly. He didn’t panic—he never did—but she caught the way his throat bobbed, the way his fingers flexed before he forced them still.
He cleared his throat. “Planning ahead, huh?”
She shrugged, stretching her legs out so her feet nudged against his. “Like I said. Essentials.”
Davie exhaled a quiet laugh, but his ears were pink. He picked up the water bottle instead, twisting the cap off like it was the most interesting thing in the room.
Lucy leaned back, resting her weight on her palms. “You nervous?”
His gaze flicked up, meeting hers. “No.” A beat. “Are you?”
She grinned. “Please.”
Davie shook his head, but he was smiling now, fingers drumming against the water bottle. “Right. Forgot who I was talking to.”
Lucy kicked his shin lightly. “Damn right.”
For a moment, the only sound was the low hum of whatever playlist Davie had left running in the background. Something soft, some indie band with too many vowels in their name.
Then he set the water down and leaned back, mirroring her posture. “So what’s the plan? We just sit here and pretend neither of us noticed you dropped a box of condoms on the table?”
Lucy snorted. “I mean, we could.
Davie huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Or…”
“Or,” Lucy echoed, raising an eyebrow.
He glanced at her, then at the table, then back again—like he was weighing something. Then he exhaled, shifting to face her fully.
“Or,” he said again, quieter this time, “we could order pizza instead of goin' out. Mom's not gonna be home till midnight-”
Lucy felt the words settle between them, something warm threading through the air. She didn’t look away. Didn’t joke. Just let the moment sit.
Then, after a second, she grinned. “Well, when you put it like that…”
Davie rolled his eyes, but he was already reaching for her.
And just like that, the space between them disappeared.
Lucy didn’t hesitate. She never did. Her fingers curled into the collar of Davie’s shirt, pulling him closer with the kind of confidence that made his breath catch. She felt the way he tensed at first, just for a second, like he was still processing that this was actually happening. Then his hands settled on her waist, careful at first, then firm.
The kiss wasn’t rushed, but it wasn’t shy either. It was warm, steady—like a conversation they’d been circling for a long time but never quite landed on.
When they finally broke apart, Davie exhaled a quiet laugh, his forehead resting against hers. “Wow.”
Lucy smirked. “That bad, huh?”
He shook his head. “No. Just… you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Me?”
Davie smiled, soft but certain. “Yeah.”
For a second, she just looked at him. His hair was a little messy, his expression open in that way that made her chest feel too small for the feeling creeping in.
Then she nudged him back against the couch, settling against him like she belonged there.
“Alright, vanilla boy,” she murmured, fingers tracing the hem of his sleeve. “Let’s see what all that nervous energy gets us.”
He huffed a laugh, arms instinctively wrapping around her. “You’re unreal, you know that?”
Lucy grinned, letting her lips brush against his jaw. “I try.”
The rest of the night unraveled in pieces—lazy kisses, quiet laughter, the hum of the stereo filling the spaces in between. No rush. No pressure. Just them, existing in their own little world, uninterrupted.
And for once, Lucy didn’t feel the need to run.
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