“Wow.” I say it out loud by accident, but I am just shocked at the length of that sentence. “I mean, yeah, it’s a long story. It was my grandfather’s.” I play with the key ring waiting for him to decide what’s next.
He raises his head just slightly in understanding, his face suddenly breaking from indifference to what seems slightly sad.
“Alright well, I’m going to take off…” This time it’s him who offers a pause formyname.
“Claire.”
“Claire,” Jay repeats and the way my name suddenly sounds so foreign to me catches me off guard — in a good way.
“Take care.” He shoves his hands back into his pockets and turns towards the street. It’s only when he’s halfway down the driveway that I realize that he’s leaving and for some strange, masochistic reason, I don’t want him to. This man has said a total of twenty words to me and none of them have been particularly nice, yet I don’t want him to go.
He also has no ride.
“Jay!” I call out suddenly both sounding and feeling desperate. “Do you want a ride? Back to Monroe’s I mean?” I stand there like an eager puppy waiting for a treat.
“Nah, it’s cool.” Turning back to look at me he shakes his head and points his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s not far. I’ll walk.”
“Are you sure? I seriously don’t mind.”
He nods, “I’m sure,” then turns and continues leaving. He gets only a few more feet before I call after him again.
“Come on, don’t be silly. My mom would damn me to Hell if I didn’t drive you back. Please? For the sake of my soul?” Okay, seriously, now I’m begging.
I guess the third time’s the charm because, after a two-second pause that felt like an eternity, he starts walking towards my SUV. I run to the hook inside the garage that holds my parents’ keys and drop the Maverick’s. Reaching into my pocket, I offer him a satisfied smile before clicking the button on my own keys to unlock the doors. I get in first, then him, and when he reaches for his seatbelt, his shirt rises just enough to reveal the slightest sliver of the skin above his jeans. All of a sudden the heat outside is nothing compared to what I feel in here. Completely unaware of the effect he has on me, he clicks his buckle down and looks at me waiting for me to do the same. Again, with the eyes-piercing-my-soul thing!
I repeat the gesture, start the car, and crank the A.C. up to full blast.You’re being ridiculous,I think to myself.
Besides, it’s one mile.
How bad could it be?
5
Jamison
That was pretty bad. Claire drove me the four minutes it took to get from her dad’s house to Monroe’s and not a single word was spoken. The silence didn’t bother me much — I’m used to living with only my thoughts — but she was clearly uncomfortable. I, however, was uncomfortable for a different reason. Who is this girl? And why when I saw her sitting on that step was I flushed with such an unfamiliar feeling?
I could see her as I approached her house and the way she so casually pulled her long, loose waves on top of her head hypnotized me. Not to mention the way her shorts bunched when she stood, revealing her tan, toned thighs.
When she came to the window I could tell she was looking at her reflection. What she didn’t realize was that while she was looking at herself, I was looking at her too. She was stunning. Sweaty — but stunning. Her long eyelashes hooded her honey-colored eyes, and specs of freckles dusted just across the bridge of her nose. Her face was flushed and glistening, and I suddenly didn’t hate the blazing heat. When I lowered the window, the shock on her face was impossible to miss. She was not expecting me. And I definitely wasn’t expecting her.
When Zeke asked me earlier to drive the Maverick back to the owner, I couldn’t grab the keys fast enough. At that point, everyone knew my obsession with it. I personally went over the hotrod inside and out at least three times, making sure everything was as it should be. And it is. That car is fucking perfect. Rebuilt 302 CID V-8 engine, original undercarriage, chrome bumpers, high back Grabber black vinyl seats.It’s strong, resilient, special. The fact that someone could so easily throw it away completely blows my mind.
I followed Claire’s eyes as they trailed from my face down to my hands suddenly clutching the steering wheel as if it would fly away. Was she judging my tattoos? She wouldn’t be the first. Not that I give a shit what anyone else thinks. Only for some reason, I kind of do care whatshethinks. What the hell is that about?
I got out of the car and she started talking, rambling really, but all I noticed was how her full lips moved and the way she smelled sweet but mild. Like vanilla? Holy shit, something’s wrong with me.
Thank God I’ve mastered the art of masking my emotions so she couldn’t see the betrayal I felt by my thoughts. I answered with clipped responses, only expanding when I explained why I was there in place of Zeke. When I offered her the keys, I caught her looking at my tattoos again. Only it wasn’t judgment that I saw in her eyes. I think it was more like admiration.
It was only when she askedmyname that I felt the immediate urge to know hers — to label the anomaly that was somehow clouding my thoughts. I am not one to ever notice women. I mean, I notice them obviously, but I couldn't care less about approaching them. From what I’ve experienced, relationships lead to nothing but absolute misery. Love is the last thing I’m looking for. The last thing I’m capable of.
“Claire.”
I needed a cigarette immediately. I tried to head out, knowing I could probably smoke at least once in the time it would take to get back to Monroe’s, but she insisted on driving me. Honestly, as bad as I needed the nicotine relief, it was fucking hot out, and I could tell Claire was embarrassed by the amount of times she’d asked. Maybe she really was just nice, or maybe this was her charity work for the day, but either way, I put us both out of our misery and agreed to the ride.
And now we’re here. Parked in front of the garage, still sitting in silence. I don’t typically do small talk but I wish she would say something?Anything?Finally, she thanks me for bringing the car, and I exhale a breath Ididn’t realize I was holding. She looks at me expectantly, but I only nod because apparently, my voice box isn’t working anymore. I clear my throat and eventually convince my mouth to open.
“I appreciate the ride back.”
