The car slowly backs up, and then it's time to go forward. I keep my game face on, and put my foot on the brake and promptly stall the truck mere few seconds after my brief back out victory. The engine hops and then splutters until it is completely dead.
My cheeks heat as I suck my lips between my teeth and I refuse to look over at Weston. The vehicle starts to slightly shake, and I just know that asshole is laughing at me. I know it, and honestly, if I wasn’t so hell bent on proving him wrong, I would laugh, too. But he’s still kind of on my shit list.
“Well, I’ll give you a point for moving us a whole five feet. I was willing to bet that you were going to kill it by throwing it into reverse.”
Well, that makes two of us, but he doesn’t need to know that. “In my defense, it’s been twelve years since I’ve even thought about a manualvehicle. So, I was bound to be a little rusty.” I readjust in my seat, shaking off my minor failure.
If I can survive New York as a naive eighteen-year-old, I can remember how to drive a stick shift. Trying again, I try to run through all the steps. At this point, I’m just winging it. He could have at least given me time to sneak watch a YouTube video or something.
When I put it into drive again, we move forward, but my joy is once again short-lived as I kill the engine, again. Unable to hold back my frustration, I grunt in annoyance.
“What am I doing wrong?” I throw my hands in the air as frustration runs through me like a pack of wild horses.
“Well, first of all, the golden rule of driving a manual is to not let it know you’re mad or afraid, the engine can smell that from a mile away and will shut down at any sign of incompetence.”
“You think I'm incompetent?” I rear my head to look him dead in the eyes, and the flash of panic I see there shouldn’t bring me as much joy as it does.
“Honey, I am going to need you to take a few deep breaths before we continue today's lesson. I’d like to live to see my next birthday, and you’re madder than a cat in a bathtub.”
“I’m not mad, I’m just…” My words trail off because I'm not sure what I am at this given moment. A little stressed, a little unsure of myself as it feels like I’m already failing at my first solo project, everything around me seems to be making it harder, and to make matters worse, Weston looks so damn good today it’s making it hard to concentrate on anything, much less the fact that I have a fiancé waiting for me back home.
“Frustrated to the point of annoyance, I've seen that look in your eye before. How about I drive for a little bit, and I walk you through whatI’m doing, and you can get a refresher course. I promise not to even tease you about killing the truck twice in a thirty-second time frame.”
The independent New Yorker in me wants to tell him that I don’t need his help, but I do. I need a car that I can move more than two feet without it sputtering to a stop. And the sad sap in me loves that he still knows me like the back of his hand.
“Fine.” My voice comes out in a bite, so he knows I’m not happy about it. My hands fumble with the square seatbelt lock, but the stupid thing is stuck, and no matter how hard I press down on the center of it, it doesn’t come undone.
Weston comes around to my side and opens the door; the half smirk on his face quickly disappears when he sees me seething. “Here, let me help.”
His large body comes across mine, and I think I forget to breathe for a second. Surrounded by his woodsy scent, it’s hard to think straight. It smells like comfort, strength, and the home that I’ve been searching for since the day I left. I take a deep breath through my nostrils and feel my body’s tension melt away. His scent and touch ignite a piece of me that I thought had withered away. I used to love when he would do things for me; it was never because he didn’t think that I could. I was always more than able; it was because he wanted to do everything in his power to make my life easier. And here he is doing it again.
“I forgot to tell you, it jams.” The sound of the seat belt releasing is almost inaudible over the thundering of my heart. He pulls back, and my eyes track his every movement. His hand stays propped up on my other side, and now we’re face to face. Close enough for me to count the flecks in his eyes. They’re like little pools of shimmering moss that I could get lost in. I think I am lost in them. He seems lost, too.
My eyes track down to his full lips. Lips that part as soon as he realizes where my attention is. I shouldn’t be doing this. Just because he’s making me feel safe and cared for like he did last time doesn’t mean I should fall right back into the trap. He left me, and he hasn’t given any indication that he still has any feelings left for me at all besides the type of love that comes from having someone around for a long time. The staring contest we’re engaged in right now is certainly blurring some boundaries, and I have a fiancé waiting for me back at home. Clearing my throat, I look down. “Noted.”
The mood in the truck changes in an instant, and he pulls back, giving me space. The brightness that was just there is now shaded with furrowed brows.
I get in the passenger side of the truck and click my seatbelt, unsure of how to shake the awkwardness in the cab. “So, I’m assuming I am doing something wrong with the clutch?”
“Yeah, you can’t just take your foot off it all at once, or you kill the fluid that gives engine power, and as we get faster, you’re going to have to shift to higher gears.” He looks over to me, all evidence of his prior frustration is now gone, and he’s ready to be my teacher.
He spends an hour walking me through and making sure I can walk him through. I have to ditch the passenger seat so I can get in the middle and see what the gauges are reading, so I can prove to him I know when to shift.
Fire burns through me where our legs touch. Thank goodness I chose today to wear dress pants. It could be all in my head, but I swear I almost feel a little bit of pressure coming from him where our legs meet. Like he’s trying to be closer. Which is bad. What’s even worse is I feel myself leaning into it, too. Looking over to the dash just to get another hit of his intoxicating smell.
It didn’t even take me a whole month before the ice I froze around myself began to thaw out. I can feel it happening, the softer piece of myself coming back out. “Okay, I think I’m ready to try again.” Mostly, I need to get out of this truck and away from him, even if it’s just for a couple of seconds.
“You’ve got this. There’s no shame in asking questions, either.” He’s having more grace right now than I would if the situation were reversed, so I have to give him some credit for that. On top of all the other nice things he’s been doing. Would it kill him to be rude once or twice so I could keep the fire of my rage nice and hot?
The gravel crunches under the tires as he pulls us off to the side. Thank goodness we are on an old abandoned dirt road, and it’s doubtful there will be any traffic coming our way anytime soon.
Weston stays by the door after he hops out and closes it behind me while I get seated in the driver’s seat. Like a coward, I avoid his gaze, needing these few seconds to not feel like I’m being suffocated by the man he is, the man he has become since he left me.
To both of our surprise, I get the truck going just fine and manage to shift it into higher gears, no problem. He points me to a road with a steeper incline so I can get some practice. Living in the mountains, I will need it, especially in this old, rusty thing. “I knew you could do it.”
Taking my eyes off the road, I level him with a stern look. “I’m fairly confident you’re lying to me, but thanks anyway.
The shit eating grin on his face confirms my suspicions and sends a wave of warmth through me. I turn my head back to the road, thinking way too hard about how badly I want to be around him again. Because right now? I think I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. But this time, I don’t want to give him the power to take that away.
