“Mine too. You want one?”
“I want something.”
“Well, then. Why don’t I turn around and drop you off. I’ve even got a coupon you can use.”
“Oryou can take me back to your place and we can split your buns.”
It’s tiny. Some may say insignificant. But the slight crinkle I see at the curve of James’s lips feels like everything. “You really do think you’re something, don’t you?”
No.
“Cocky hockey players are so hot right now. I’m just giving the people what they want.” When we slow to a halt at the next light, James seems to be at war with himself, hands tapping on the steering wheel, his head turning my way, gaze coasting up and down from chest to waist, then snapping back only to repeat the same pattern. I can’t blame him. My red short-shorts are riding high.
“I’m not taking you to my old apartment,” he says randomly. “That can’t happen. You have to know that.”
“Hey, I’m not the brightest, you said it yourself.”
“That’s not…” His tapping ceases, fingers instead gripping the wheel as though he’s going to rip it from the dash. “It’s wrong of me to mock your intelligence. From what I understand, you have a STEM-heavy course load and you’re excelling.”
Not any more. “Duh, of course I’m excelling. I wear glasses. I’m obviously a nerdy brainiac.” James lets his gaze shift to my eyes, his own narrowing. It’s fleeting, but electrifying.
“Even at this age, you still get that nonsense? Please tell me such childish taunts don’t bother you.”
“Of course they don’t.” I aim to disguise my defensiveness but if James’ expression is anything to go by, I failed.
“Good. Because it’s ridiculous to let such stereotypical, superficial things define us.”
“What, superficial things like sexy swimmers’ bodies, with pretty pink nipples?”
Collapsing forward, he lets his head fall against the steering wheel. “Yes. Things like that.” There’s a hint of a blush rising from the collar of his polo, and I am mad for it. It’s so much fun watching him squirm that I don’t mind the silence that descends as we take off again.
He must though, as without looking, he reaches for the touchscreen media display and taps randomly at the screen. Despite my best efforts, I know so little about him that the prospect of learning something as insignificant as the music he plays in his car is almost enough to give me a semi. Until some lame-ass country music fills the void.
“Please tell me you’re not some secret gay redneck, because if that’s the case, you can let me out here.”
Several horns blare from behind us as James slams on the breaks, bringing us to a screeching halt. Before I can react he’s leaning over me, fingers brushing the bare skin of my thighs as he reaches to open the door.
“On your way then.”
“So it’s true? You’re one of them? A red voting redneck?” Jame’s lips purse and his cheeks puff. I think he’s going to blow and not in the way I’d hoped.
“Mr. Malkovich. Weren’t we just speaking about the dangers in believing stereotypes? Not that I need to explain myself to you … again … but this is Mickey Guyton. A beautiful young country artist, who happens to be an outspoken liberal. Like me. Even if she wasn’t, I would never accuse her, or anyone, of bigotry based on their music genre alone.” With a nod, he motions towards the door. “Good night.”
“But—”
“Good. Night.” His cheeks are red now, but it’s not caused by modesty. Stubbornly, I grip the edge of my seat. If he wants me out, he has to toss me out.
“No. I’m not going anywhere. For starters, I don’t know where we are. What if it’s not safe? How would you live with yourself if I was to be murdered?”
“We’re a block from school and you’re fast. I’m sure you can out run any killer that happens to be roaming Chestnut Hill this time of night.”
“What if I trip?”
“Well, you better check your laces and make sure that you don’t.”
“What if—” Before I can think of another lame reason to not get out of this car, my phone rings in my pocket. Saved by the bell. Holding my right arm out, index finger raised, I grab my phone with my left, accidentally switching it to speaker as I do.
“Cory,” Cherry screams. “What the hell is wrong with you? Who the fuck runs out on their crying mother?” Suddenly, James and I’s roles are reversed. I can’t get out of the car fast enough and he’s gripping my arm to keep me in. “Did you know? Have you known all along?”
