She hits the gas and fumbles with the gear stick before eventually cruising past the Honda.
“You need to work on your conversational skills, Amy.” I glance at her. “Threeokaysin a row like that is pretty awkward. You need to be able to shoot the shit with passengers, you get me?” I sigh. “Try asking me whether I had a busy morning.”
“Busy morning?”
“That’s so sweet of you to ask!” I beam. “I got up at five thirty, ran a couple of miles. Then breakfast of champions before class.” I’m getting into the swing of this. “I went back to my place, grabbed a coffee with my roomies, and then met up with you.”
“Wow, for real?”
“Come on, Firebird. You can do better than that.”
“That’s amazing!” she squeals.
“Perfect. So—how about you? How was your morning?”
She shoots me a side-eye. “Do we have to tell the truth, or can we bullshit?”
“Honesty isalwaysthe best policy.”
“Okay.”
Yet another question she’s left unanswered, I realize.
Disgrace, dude.
Her driving, meanwhile… It’s interesting, to say the least.
I lean into the dashboard. “Notice anything that should concern you?”
“Nope,” she trills.
“You sure about that?”
“Why don’t you tell me,” she replies, louder now.
“You just turned the wrong way down a one-way street.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. I mean, see how that car is coming straight toward us?”
She slams down on the brakes and yanks on the gear stick, desperately trying to reverse and failing hard.
“You know how I was saying about Google Maps?”
“Shit!” she yells.
I open my mouth to offer up a few words of encouragement, but she rips off her seat belt and leaps out of the car before I even have time to think.Okaaay…
I sit there in silence as she paces back and forth in front of the Pontiac, and I have no idea what she’s muttering to herself right now, but it sounds intense.This girl is weird as hell.
We’re still just parked here in the middle of the road when the car that almost crashed into us crawls to a stop. The driver yells something at Amy through the window, and though I can’t make out the words, he’s pissed, I can tell. She rakes her hands through her hair and turns, slowly stepping closer, edging toward him, her shoulders rolling. I fling open my door, placing a foot on the ground, readying myself to spring into action as she presses her palms to the guy’s window ledge. He shrinks back in his seat, and I relax. Looks like she’s handling this. While she’s busy with her showdown, I take in her curves. The way she’s standing there like that with her back arched is pretty damn mouthwatering.
Don said not to go there, I remind myself. Even if sheislooking insanely f—DON SAID NOT TO GO THERE!
This is business—I need to remember that. And besides, there are plenty of other SHU girls to keep me busy. Though considering just how bad her driving is, it doesn’t look like she’ll be making the Campus Drivers team any time soon, which means I’ll probably be able to dive right in guilt-free.I mean, a one-way street? For real?
I keep my eyes on her. I can’t figure her out. It feels like every session stresses her out, when she usually oozes confidence. And theweirder thing is that I’m feeling inclined to go easy on her instead of just writing her off.
