The Girl Who Played With Fire

AUTHOR'S NOTE: All characters in this story are eighteen or older. Craig is a 45-year-old single man. He is blue-collar and has never been to college. Kim is 18 years old and has just completed high school. She lives with her parents and is attending community college this fall. The events depicted in this story begin during the summer after she graduates from high school.

Further Note: I was trying to write fan fiction. It was based on a popular book about a teenage student who falls in love with an older teacher. There is a scene in the book where she and two teenage friends are at a bowling alley hanging out when a middle blue-collar man approaches them. In the course of the conversation, he offers a drink out of his cocktail. Only the main character takes a drink. The scene ends there but I always thought about what would happen if she accepted a ride home from him. From that, I tried to develop a storyline between her and the man whom I called Craig. Getting tired of that story, I started an origin story for Craig. It turned out to be a three-part ark. This is the first part. It's a slow burn with more sexual tension than sex but sometimes that's funner.

Craig leaned back against the rough bark of an old oak tree, nursing a beer as the party buzzed around him. The air was thick with the smell of cheap cigarettes and barbecue, mingling with the faint perfume of wildflowers carried on the night breeze. The backyard was dimly lit, illuminated by a few strings of mismatched fairy lights and the glow of a fire pit in the center of the gathering. Laughter and music overlapped, a chaotic symphony of voices and clinking bottles.

He wasn't much for parties anymore--hadn't been for years--but a buddy had dragged him along, and he figured it wouldn't hurt to show his face. The crowd was younger than he'd expected, in that mid-twenties phase where everything is possible and hangovers were mild. He'd already noticed a few glances thrown his way--half curious, half dismissive. He didn't belong here, and he knew it.

That's when he saw her.

She was small, almost lost in the crowd, her long black hair like a river of ink spilling down her back. She stood off to the side, her dark olive skin glowing faintly in the firelight, her shoulders hunched as if trying to make herself invisible. She looked nervous, out of place, like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck that wasn't slowing down.

Craig frowned, taking another sip of his beer as he watched her from across the yard. She was too young to be here--he could see that as plain as day. Her oversized sweater and scuffed sneakers didn't match the flashier outfits of the other girls, and she clutched a plastic cup like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the ground.

The guy beside her leaned in too close, his voice low and insistent, his hand brushing her arm. She flinched, taking a small step back, her gaze darting around the yard like she was looking for an escape.

Craig straightened, his beer forgotten as he pushed off the tree and made his way toward her. He wasn't sure why--maybe it was the look in her eyes, or the way she seemed to shrink into herself every time someone came too close. Either way, his boots crunched softly on the gravel as he closed the distance.

"Hey," he said, his voice low and even as he stopped a few feet away from her. The guy talking to her glanced up, his expression darkening at the interruption, but Craig didn't spare him a second look. His focus was on the girl, who stared up at him with wide, startled eyes.

"You okay?" he asked, his tone gentle but firm.

She hesitated, her gaze flicking between him and the guy before nodding quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Craig raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "Doesn't look like it."

The guy scowled, muttering something under his breath before slinking off, leaving the girl standing there with her cup. She looked up at Craig again, her expression a mix of relief and uncertainty.

"Thanks," she said softly, her voice barely audible over the noise of the party.

He nodded, leaning slightly to the side so he wasn't towering over her. "Name's Craig. You got one?"

"Kim," she replied, her grip on the cup tightening.

"Kim," he repeated, letting the name roll off his tongue. "You shouldn't be here, you know."

She shrugged, a small, almost defiant gesture. "I'm fine."

Craig studied her for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Yeah, sure you are. Are you hungry? There's food over by the fire."

Her lips parted, and for a moment, she looked like she might argue. Then she nodded, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "Yeah, okay."

"Come on," he said, tilting his head toward the fire pit. As they walked, he made sure to keep his pace slow, his steps steady. Kim didn't say much, but he caught her sneaking glances at him out of the corner of his eye. She didn't know him, but she didn't flinch away either. That was a start.

Craig watched as Kim nibbled on a hotdog he'd managed to snag from the food table, her small frame perched on the edge of a folding chair by the fire. Her nervousness had faded slightly, and now she was smiling--tentative, but genuine. He'd kept the conversation light, asking about school, her favorite music, and anything else that got her to open up.

"You like Fleetwood Mac?" he asked, tilting his head as the crackling firelight danced across her face.

Kim's eyes lit up, and she nodded quickly. "Yeah, I do. My dad listens to them all the time. 'Dreams' is probably my favorite."

Craig chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Good choice. Can't go wrong with the classics. You ever see them live?"

Kim shook her head, her long hair swaying with the motion. "No. I don't really go to concerts. My parents are pretty strict. And besides I was too young."

Craig raised an eyebrow, his grin softening. "Strict enough to keep you out of parties like this?"

Her smile faltered, and she looked down at her hands, which were folded tightly in her lap. "Yeah," she admitted after a moment. "But I wanted to try something different, you know? Just for once."

"Nothing wrong with that," Craig said gently. "But these kinds of places... they're not always as fun as they look."

Kim glanced up at him, her dark eyes searching his face. "I guess not," she said quietly, her voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and understanding.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of the party fading into the background. Craig found himself surprisingly at ease around her, her quiet honesty a refreshing change from the usual chaos he encountered.

After a while, Kim shifted in her seat, setting her cup down on the ground. "I should probably go home," she said, her voice hesitant but firm.

Craig straightened, nodding. "Where's your ride?"

Kim hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. "I, um... I walked here."

Craig frowned, his protective instincts kicking in. "Walked? At night? That's not safe."

She shrugged, looking sheepish. "It's not that far."

"I'll take you," Craig said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Kim hesitated, her eyes meeting his. For a moment, he thought she might say no, but then she nodded. "Okay," she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

They left the party quietly, slipping away from the noise and chaos. Craig opened the passenger door of his truck for her, waiting until she was settled before climbing in himself. The drive was calm, the hum of the engine filling the space between them as Kim gave him directions.

When they pulled up to a modest, middle-class house, Craig glanced at the porch light glowing softly in the darkness. "This it?" he asked.

Kim nodded, gathering her things. "Yeah. Thanks for the ride."

Before she could open the door, Craig touched her arm lightly, his hand warm and steady. "Hey," he said, his voice honest and low. "I had a good time tonight. You're good company."

Kim blinked, her cheeks flushing slightly as she smiled. "Thanks," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Here," Craig said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. "Let's exchange numbers. That way, if you ever end up at another party like this, you've got someone to call."

Kim hesitated for only a second before taking his phone and typing in her number. She handed it back to him, her smile growing as she looked up at him. "Thanks, Craig. For everything."

Craig nodded, watching as she climbed out of the truck and walked up the driveway. She turned back once, waving before disappearing inside. Craig sat there for a moment, the faint glow of her porch light casting long shadows on his face.

As he pulled away, he couldn't shake the feeling that this wouldn't be the last time their paths crossed.

The first text came a few days after the party. Craig was working on his truck, hands smeared with grease and his mind focused on the stubborn engine that refused to cooperate, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He wiped his hands on a rag and pulled it out, frowning slightly at the unfamiliar number.

Kim: Hey Craig, it's Kim. Just wanted to say thanks again for the other night. Hope you're doing okay.

He stared at the screen for a moment, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. He liked Kim--she was sweet, vulnerable, and had a good head on her shoulders. But she was also young, too young, and he wasn't about to lead her down a road that would only end badly. After a moment, he shoved the phone back in his pocket and returned to his truck.

By the time he finished his work, two more messages were waiting.

Kim: I hope I'm not bothering you!

Kim: If you're busy, no problem. Just wanted to say hi.

Craig sighed, running a hand through his short-cropped hair. He could almost see her, biting her lip as she stared at her phone, second-guessing every word. He typed out a quick response, keeping it simple.

Craig: Not busy. How are you?

The reply came almost instantly.

Kim: Good! Just school stuff. Boring lol. What about you?

Craig chuckled, shaking his head as he replied.

Craig: Fixing my truck. Nothing exciting here either.

For the rest of the day, the texts trickled in--small, harmless updates from Kim about her classes, her friends, and even a picture of her cat. Craig kept his responses brief, friendly but distant, hoping she'd lose interest. But by the end of the week, the messages were coming multiple times a day.

Kim: Saw someone at school today wearing the same jacket you had at the party. But it didn't look as good on him.

Kim: You were right about Fleetwood Mac. I've been listening to them all week. Love 'Rhiannon.'

Kim: Do you think I could learn to fix cars like you? Maybe you could teach me sometime?

Craig sighed as he scrolled through the texts. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy hearing from her--Kim was sweet, and her messages had a way of making him smile despite himself. But he could see where this was going, even if she didn't realize it yet. She was chasing something she didn't fully understand, and he wasn't sure how to handle it.

He tapped out another reply, keeping his tone light but careful.

Craig: Fixing cars isn't as fun as it looks. Just a lot of grease and frustration.

Kim's reply came within seconds.

Kim: Yeah, but you make it look cool. :)

Craig exhaled slowly, staring at the screen. She was smitten, no doubt about it. And the way she talked to him, the way she found reasons to text him about anything and everything... she was pursuing him. Whether she realized it or not, Kim was working her way into his life, one small message at a time.

He set his phone down, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked out the window. He liked her, sure. But he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do about it.

The next day Craig was sitting on his worn couch, a ball game playing quietly on the TV, when his phone buzzed. He reached for it absentmindedly, expecting another short update from Kim about her day or a song she'd been listening to. What he saw stopped him cold.

It was a picture--a selfie Kim had sent with a simple caption: Going to a party tomorrow night. How do you think I look?

She was standing in front of a mirror, her long black hair spilling over her shoulders, framing a face that looked different from the shy girl he'd met. Her dark eyes held a flicker of confidence, or maybe it was something else--a deliberate question in the way she looked at the camera. Gone were the oversized sweater and scuffed sneakers. Instead, she wore a pair of tight jeans that hugged her ass and a fitted T-shirt that showed, for the first time, that she had breasts--real nice breasts.

Craig sat back, his thumb hovering over the screen as he stared at the picture. He hadn't noticed at the party, but then again, she'd been doing everything she could to shrink into herself, to disappear. This was different. This was Kim stepping forward, daring to be seen. And damn it, she was beautiful, even hot, but that wasn't a thought he wanted to entertain.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. What was he supposed to say to that? He'd kept things friendly, careful not to cross any lines, but this felt like a challenge--an unspoken invitation. Did she even realize what she was doing, or was this just a teenager trying to figure out her place in the world?

His phone buzzed again.

Kim: Too much? Or not enough? Lol.

Craig shook his head, muttering under his breath. He needed to handle this carefully, not just for her sake but for his own. He typed out a reply, pausing before hitting send.

Craig: You look good, Kim. Just be careful at that party, alright?

The dots appeared on the screen, showing her typing, and he waited, his stomach tightening.

Kim: Thanks, Craig. I'll be fine. You always worry about me, huh? ;)

Craig sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. She had no idea what she was doing to him--how complicated this all was. He liked her, sure, but this... this was something else. And the worst part? He didn't know if he wanted to stop it.

He set his phone down and turned his attention back to the game, but the picture lingered in his mind, a mix of pride and confusion swirling in his chest. Kim was growing up--finding herself--and whether he liked it or not, she seemed determined to include him in the process.

Later that evening Craig sat at his usual spot at the bar, nursing a bourbon as the low hum of voices and the occasional burst of laughter filled the smoky air. The biker bar was his sanctuary--a gritty, no-frills place where he didn't have to think too hard. He leaned back in his chair, the warm burn of the drink settling in his chest as he let the weight of the week roll off his shoulders.

His phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at it, expecting a notification about the game or maybe a message from one of his buddies. Instead, it was a text from Kim.

Kim: Were you serious about giving me a ride if I needed it?

Craig frowned, sitting up straighter. He'd told her as much, but he hadn't expected her to take him up on it. He quickly typed a reply.

Craig: Of course. Where are you?

The dots appeared immediately, and then her response came through.

Kim: Outside Oak Street Park. Can you come now?

Craig glanced at the clock on the bar's wall. It was just past midnight. He tossed a few bills onto the counter, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. The night air was cool and crisp as he climbed into his truck, the engine rumbling to life. Oak Street Park wasn't far, but the unease in his gut made the drive feel longer than it was.

When he pulled up to the park, he saw her sitting on a bench near a flickering streetlamp. She looked small, even smaller than usual, her arms wrapped around herself as if trying to hold herself together. Craig parked the truck and stepped out, his boots crunching against the gravel as he approached.

"Kim?" he called softly, and she looked up.

Her long black hair was damp and tangled, sticking to her face and shoulders in disarray. Her dark olive skin glowed faintly under the streetlamp, but it was her lips that caught his attention--red and swollen, like she'd been biting them or... something else. Her T was torn so it hung off her shoulder exposing the curve of her left breast. Her wide, dark eyes met his, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face before she quickly looked away.

"Hey," she said, her voice shaky. "Thanks for coming."

Craig frowned, crouching slightly to meet her eyes. "What happened?" he asked, his tone firm but gentle.

Kim shook her head, pulling her knees closer to her chest. "It's nothing. Just... a bad night."

Craig studied her, his jaw tightening. It was clear that whatever had happened wasn't nothing. Her disheveled appearance, the faint tremble in her voice--it all pointed to something more. But she wasn't ready to talk, and he wasn't about to push her.

"Come on," he said, standing and holding out a hand. "Let's get you out of here."

Kim hesitated for a moment before placing her small hand in his. Her fingers were cold, and he squeezed them gently, guiding her to the truck. She climbed in silently, pulling his jacket around her shoulders as he started the engine.

They drove in silence, the faint hum of the engine the only sound between them. Craig glanced at her occasionally, his concern growing with every mile. She stared out the window, her hair falling over her face, hiding whatever she was feeling.

When they reached her house, Craig put the truck in the park but didn't move to open the door. "Kim," he said softly, turning to look at her. "If you ever need to talk... you know you can, right?"

She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know."

He reached out, his hand brushing her arm briefly. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Kim managed a small smile, her eyes still shadowed. "Thanks, Craig. For everything."

She climbed out of the truck and walked up the driveway, her shoulders hunched against the night air. Craig watched until she disappeared inside, his gut churning with questions he wasn't sure he wanted the answers to.

As he drove away, he couldn't shake the image of her--damp hair, puffy lips, her torn T, and that haunted look in her eyes. Something had happened, and whether she told him or not, he knew he wouldn't stop worrying until he figured out what it was.

Craig spent most of the next day trying to push thoughts of Kim out of his head, but it was like trying to forget a song stuck on repeat. Every time he thought he'd managed to focus on the truck he was fixing or the errands he needed to run, her face crept back into his mind--those wide, dark eyes, that small smile of gratitude, the way her damp hair framed her features under the pale streetlamp and the exposed curve of her breast.

He sighed, wiping grease off his hands and leaning against his workbench. Kim's vulnerability had been palpable the night before, her small frame curled up on that bench like she was trying to disappear. And yet, even in her disarray, she was stunning. He thought about the way the curve of her breasts and ass had surprised him in the picture she'd sent, the sudden realization that she was no longer just a shy, awkward girl. She was blossoming into something else entirely--someone bold enough to reach out to him, to trust him.

He shook his head, frustrated. What was he even doing thinking about her like this? She was young--too young. But no matter how much he tried to reason with himself, the image of her lingered, stirring something deep and unsettling within him.

He paced the garage, trying to distract himself, but darker thoughts began to creep in. What was he supposed to do with her? She clearly looked up to him, maybe even more than he'd realized. Was that his role in her life now--to be someone she trusted, someone she relied on? Or was she hoping for something else entirely? And if she was... what did that make him?