There was no account to tag.
“How do you not have Twitter?” I mumbled, tagging his bandmate instead.
I popped open the second bottle of champagne and waited.
10
#heyhannah
LINCOLN STARR HENDRIX
A girl was sittingon the Chevy’s hood, in my hoodie and double fisting champagne bottles. A cop car rolled up behind the truck in front of us, flashing its lights.
Toby slowed the Range Rover. “What the…?”
“Just let me out here.”
“You sure, bro?” he asked, sliding behind the cop car.
I jumped out, a few passing joggers paused to linger and find out what was going on.
“Miss,” the cop said, walking toward her and adjusting his heavy belt. “What’s going on here? I got a call—”
“You can’t arrest me,” she said, my keys hanging from her pointer finger. “They’re not in the ignition.”
“Sir,” I said, walking faster toward them. “This is my truck.”
The cop turned. He had a perfectly trimmed, thick black mustache above his lip like it had been thrown there. It looked fake. “This is your truck?”
“I left her here for just a second. She’s good.” I ducked through my opened truck window and leaned in. My hands were shaking from the rage, which caused the proof of insurance and registration and bag of weed to tumble out of the glove box. I snatched the papers up and shoved the bag of dope back inside, slammed it shut.
I handed the papers to the cop along with my ID. “I’m sober. Let me just take her home.”
The cop looked up from my paperwork. “Hendrix,” he said, handing it back to me. “House of Sparrows, right?” he laughed, and she rolled her eyes. The cop tapped his belt, more at ease. “If everything’s good here, then …”
“Unsatisfied, but good,” she said, flicking her eyes to me.
“We had a long night, and I just want to get her home,” I explained.
The cop nodded and wished us a good day before leaving.
I stood in front of her in joggers, a torn white tee, and a fire burning in my eyes. I was sure if she wasn’t drinking, she could feel it breathe hot on her spine. The two of us were silent until the cop drove away.
Once he was gone, I blew out a breath from puffed cheeks and returned my gaze to her.
Her smooth bronze legs splaying over my black hood gave off the illusion that she was glowing. Gold shimmered from between her thighs. If I wasn’t so pissed, I’d think about giving her the satisfaction she was looking for. “Get off my hood, Hannah.”
At some point, I was going to run out of H names.
She ignored the low blow and didn’t make a move to slide off. Instead, she took another swig from the champagne bottle. Onlookers kept their bottleneck speed, creating unnecessary traffic.
“I don’t pump my own gas, and you’re out.” She shrugged with a playful smile, then jumped off the truck and leaned her tailbone against the grill. “Looks like both rides failed me in less than six hours.” She raised her brows, took another swig from the bottle. The knot of hair on the top of her head bobbed.
“You waited until after my boy left to tell me this?”
“Gas station is only a few blocks away.”
I looked around, swiped the bottle from her hand. “Cut the crap. Why did you take my truck?”
