11. Reese
11
REESE
According to Dane, the moment is never going to happen at the art gallery near campus, so I turned down Caleb’s suggestion to check out an exhibit there. But it didn’t happen at a used bookstore Caleb took me to after I got off of work, either.
The only thing that happened there? We recommended books to each other. At this point, I think the moment is hogwash.
“So,” Caleb says.
“So,” I say back to him, my voice trailing off as we exchange glances. Why. Is. It. So. Awkward?
There’s always this lull toward the end of our date. Like we’re uncertain of what to say or how to end the night. Or what to do with ourselves.
I know I’m partially to blame for how uncomfortable it is, my mind scrambling to figure out what to say to kill the silence, but I wish Caleb was more of a conversationalist, so I’m not the one leading most of our small conversations that meander and end just as quickly as they begin.
We exchange another glance before I look elsewhere as we walk, wondering what else we can discuss that wasn’t already covered during our date earlier.
I don’t think we can keep talking about his sisters’ gymnastics recital or my sister’s upcoming presentation for her business major. There are only so many times we can agree Lili’s going to crush it regardless of how good her group partner is. My sister has always been the type to take charge and bulldoze everything until she gets her way, which we’re both apparently aware of.
Abruptly, he steps to the side, allowing a mother to push her stroller past us. Gosh, he’s so sweet. But it’s not like I need the reminder when he’s carrying my bulky bag filled to the brim with used books I’ve purchased and escorting me back to my apartment.
Caleb’s eyes flicker to the busted gate, and a wary expression flits across his features. “Have you ever considered moving someplace else?”
“The rent here is super cheap.”
Mostly because the building is in dire need of renovations, but also because I’m willing to pay in cash. And I won’t sugarcoat it—my apartment is ridiculously small. My theory is that it was a storage room at one point. Lilian believes it was a custodial closet.
“And that’s why you aren’t living with your sister?”
“She’s staying at the sorority house?” I remind him. “And I’m not in a sorority?”
“Right.” He winces. This is a very titillating conversation. A pulse of heavy silence falls over us. “Do you want to join one?”
“ No ,” I blurt, then release a shaky laugh. “No offense.”
“None taken,” he says with a gentle grin.
“But it’s not for me,” I stammer and spare him another shaky laugh. I don’t want to offend him, seeing as how he actually likes his fraternity. “I can’t afford it. I don’t think it’s beneath me, because?—”
“It’s okay.” Caleb flashes me a reassuring smile. I decide to keep my mouth shut before I say anything else that makes me seem extremely inept.
We trek up the exterior stairs until we’re finally on my floor. The silence isn’t as unbearable. It’s kind of peaceful. Nice. But doubt fills me at the moment because I’m not sure if silence, even though it’s comfortable, is supposed to be a good thing or not.
I know I’m not an extrovert by any means, but I always figured that the perfect guy for me would be someone I could easily talk to. Where the conversation doesn’t have any interruptions or pauses. Where the conversation just flows .
Before I can internally agonize over this some more and wonder if I’m overthinking this, someone walks by us right then. Dark jacket. Hoodie up.
My hands instantly go clammy as I reach for my mace. I hate that it’s a gut reaction; that I’m easily rattled. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to shake it for the life of me. It’s an unsettling thought.
Exhaling deeply, I run through a bunch of mental exercises, reminding myself that I’m okay and trying to unlock my door with shaky fingers all at once.
If Caleb notices me silently freaking out, he doesn’t say a word about it. “You know,” he finally comments, nodding his chin at my apartment window. “Those bars are dangerous.”
“Oh.” I swallow thickly. “Well. They kind of make me feel better.”
“They can be a fire hazard,” he explains, shifting closer to examine the security bars.
“Oh,” I repeat, releasing a humorless chuckle. Is this really going to be the conversation we end the date with? “Well, let’s just hope the door’s still operable if this place were to burn down.”
Smiling weakly once I’ve keyed us in, I flick the light on as we step inside my tiny apartment.
“You live here by yourself?”
“Yeah. Sometimes, Lili crashes with me,” I confirm, “but, usually, it’s just me.”
“You’re really close to her,” he observes.
“I mean, we are sisters,” I joke, trying to alleviate the tension. He cracks a grin. “Obviously, we’d be close. I mean, you’re close with your sisters.”
I shut the door behind him, my frayed nerves calming down just a smidge after I triple-check the locks, only for my heart rate to go up again for a different reason when it occurs to me we’re both alone in my apartment. I smile nervously as he sets my bag on one of my kitchen barstools. Anticipation flares within me, along with a crapload of jitters.
I know I need to take initiative, so I mentally prepare myself to cross the floor, hook my arms around his neck, and pull him in for a scorching kiss of a lifetime. One that would end up with me yanking him to the bedroom where we do more than just make out.
Instead, I chicken out and ask the one thing that feels safe to bring up. “Water?”
“Sure.”
I reach for my filtered pitcher in the fridge and grab two mismatched glasses, filling them halfway before handing him the taller one. Taut silence ensues.
Come on ! My brain is both encouraging me and discouraging me. Make the move !
Don’t embarrass yourself !
Kiss him already !
Ugh. I twist my hair, count to three, and then count to three again. Maybe I’ll kiss him on the next count of three. Or maybe I should wait until he’s finished with his water to make a move.
“I should get going,” Caleb announces after a couple of moments have passed, setting his glass down on the kitchen counter. “I don’t want to be out too late.”
“Oh.” Something inside me wilts as he starts heading toward the door. “Are you sure?”
“That I don’t want to be out too late?” He gives me a teasing smile. “I’m pretty sure. I need to pick my sisters up from practice, anyway.”
As if I need another reminder of what a kindhearted guy he is. Ever since his dad got injured at work, Caleb’s been stepping up to help his family out. It’s another reason why scheduling dates has been tricky for us. He’s constantly busy.
“Let me walk you to the door,” I suggest, moving from the kitchen to the door in literally seven steps with my short legs. This apartment is ridiculously small.
He turns around the moment he’s standing under the doorframe. “I’ll see you later?” His curly hair falls over his eyes as he looks at me.
A beat passes. His gaze lingers. My face goes warm. Crap, is this supposed to be the moment ?
It’s now or never, my brain urges me. So I take the initiative, my heart pounding out of sheer nervousness.
I rock forward on my toes just as he says, “You have something on your nose.”
“Huh— Ow !”
“Oh fuck?—”
“I’m okay!” I wheeze, clutching my cheek as my face flares with mortification. I walked right into his hand.
“Do you need?—”
“I’m fine!” I back away from him before I can somehow injure myself again. “I’ll see you later!”
“I’m sorry?—”
“It’s all good. Don’t leave your sisters waiting for you.” I shoo him out the door, twist both sets of deadbolts, and triple-check them before I rush to my freezer to grab the frozen peas. Pressing the cold bag against my eye, I let out the weariest sigh I’ve ever mustered.
“What happened to your eye?” Peyton gasps, nearly dropping her grocery bags. She rushes over to me, her face flooded with genuine worry.
I cringe. Lilian’s sorority sisters have been asking me that all day long. After being stopped six times while heading to my morning class alone, I haven’t been keeping count since.
“I’ll take you up on your offer after all,” I tell Lili’s roommate, Karla. She beams in response.
“Great! I’ll be right back, Little Vann.” She darts upstairs, leaving me alone with Peyton and a couple of their other sorority sisters. I’m a little fuzzy on their names, and I don’t have their composite portrait right in front of me to know who’s who.
“Jesus.” Peyton drops into the seat beside me, leaning in close to examine the bruise. “Who did this?”
“Caleb,” I explain, wincing yet again when she gasps. “But it was an accident.” Something skeptical tightens the lines of Peyton’s face, and I hold back a sigh, launching into a quick recount of what happened the night before. “So you see, it was a total mess.”
“Huh,” she says, frowning.
“I don’t know why it’s so hard with him,” I admit glumly. Truthfully, if I hadn’t nearly blinded myself walking into his finger, I would have written the night off as another uneventful and super awkward date. Even snails move faster than this.
Oddly enough, it honestly felt easier with Dane. But then again, that was all acting. Roleplay. Maybe things aren’t supposed to be that easy when it’s real.
“Ta-da!” Karla returns, dropping the biggest makeup bag I’ve ever seen on the coffee table. I swear, every knickknack in the room rattles from the heavy thud. “It’s time for me to work my magic.”
I should’ve known something was suspect the moment Karla’s makeup brush veered to the other side of my face. She said it was to balance things out. Ha .
I still feel like a clown as I hop off the bus and head right, trudging past a bunch of repair shops and mechanics until I find myself standing in front of a nondescript garage.
A sudden knot of uncertainty forms in my stomach as I take in the fact that the door is down. He’s… not here. My cheeks blaze as the reality of the situation hits me.
Oh God. I came here for no reason. I should have done what everyone my age does and texted him to save myself all the trouble. Why did I come here ?
Retrieving my phone, I barely unlock it, when loud clunking noises startle me.
Like a deer in the headlights, I freeze. I barely grasp the fact that the door is rolling up. Or that he’s right there, standing just a few yards away. His hair looks extremely tousled, as if the gel has worn off. His white shirt is filthy and stained with grease. His biceps strain against the tight, short sleeves while he wipes the lengths of his fingers with a yellow cloth.
He doesn’t notice me gawping at him like a fish. He’s too preoccupied with the phone nestled between the side of his head and shoulder.
“Not happening.” He glances over at that very moment, and a stunned expression overtakes his face at the sight of me. Without saying goodbye, he shoves his cell into the front pocket of his denim jeans. “What are you doing here?”
Good question . “Your advice,” I grind out, “was awful .”
“Did you just come from your date to tell me this?” He squints at me as he sets the dirty rag down.
“No. I came straight from the sorority house… to tell you this.” I self-consciously touch my hair out of habit, then shift my weight onto one leg. “My date was last night.”
“I see.” He steps around a car I haven’t seen before and moves toward me.
“It didn’t go well,” I tack on wryly.
“ Awful tends to imply that.”
“I didn’t know you were a smartass, too.”
“Too?” His lips give a sudden twitch. “What else do you know about me?”
“You’re tall.”
“ Wow .” He props his elbow on the top of the vehicle and rests his chin against his palm, motioning for me to continue with his other hand. “Go on.”
“If you’re trying to fish for compliments?—”
“ You’re tall is a compliment?” he cuts me off, smirking.
I bristle. “I meant in the sense that I’m not going to give you any compliments, so please don’t expect any from me.”
His grin only deepens as he tosses a wink. “What else do you know about me?”
“You’re kind of crass.”
“Kind of?”
“ Very ,” I correct, folding my arms over my chest. “Very blunt. Somewhat abrasive. A bit rough around the edges.”
“Yeah, these aren’t compliments,” he says out loud with an exasperated, yet teasing shake of his head.
“Well, I did warn you,” I tell him. “But they’re a lot nicer than what I’ve heard about you.”
“That is?”
Shoot. I don’t think there’s a polite way to tell someone people think they’re seedy. Dangerous .
“Is this one new?” I gesture to the car he’s leaning against.
“Don’t change the subject, Reese’s Pieces. What have people been saying about me?”
“I mean, does it truly matter in the grand scheme of life what strangers think of you?” I ask, feigning nonchalance.
“Just let me hear it.” His playful smile is gone. The atmosphere becomes unnervingly quiet as he straightens his stance.
I feel inexplicably cornered, like a small animal snared in a trap with no way out, under his hardened gaze. My heart beats in my throat. Unease stabs into my chest.
With a hoarse inhalation, I rush out, “They say you’re dangerous; that you fight people for fun. You drink and smoke and gamble and sleep around…”
Dane blinks, and the muscle of his jaw flexes tight. “You don’t honestly believe any of that, do you?”
My lack of an immediate response darkens his frown before a perceptible shift occurs in his features. He looks so genuinely… hurt that my guilt feels insurmountable. Regret grabs at my heart. I never should have brought this up .
“Why the fuck would I fight people for fun?” He shoots me an incredulous look. “Do you think I had fun getting my ass handed to me that night?”
Okay, he has a point there. “What about the black eye?”
“Some punk tried to screw me over.” He exhales sharply, a crease forming between his brows. “I nearly got into an accident because he had his stupid friend try to cut me off while I was driving,” he clarifies when something guarded steals my expression. “Look. I won’t lie to you. I do get into fights, but it’s not for fun. And I do drink every now and then. But I don’t gamble and I don’t smoke. These aren’t my vices.”
“Okay.” I swallow roughly as I digest his words. “What are your vices?”
“I like to drive .”
“Clearly,” I say dryly, looking around the garage.
“I like to race .”
That definitely explains all the sports cars around us.
“I like to win .”
“Got it,” I say, registering the fact that Dane Kingsley is, to no one’s surprise, a huge car buff.
“And…”
“And?”
What else is there to say about cars? That he likes to fill up their tanks, too? Top off their wiper fluid? Change a tire?
“I like to fuck,” he says out of nowhere. Shamelessly, too.
My neck catches fire. As does the rest of my body. I stare at him, stunned, unable to process the words that just came out of his mouth.
A slow-breaking smirk materializes across his face. Oh . He’s messing with me. Unfortunately, I can’t think of a response, and my cheeks scorch even hotter underneath his amused attention, my neck feverish when he chuckles.
Rubbing my hands down the material of my sweater, I force myself to meet his eyes. “And where do you race?” I ask, trying but failing to keep my voice even.
“There’s this scenic route I take to clear my head,” Dane says, and I can’t help but notice him dodging my question. “I try to drive it once a week. Leads straight to the beach. You’ve ever been?”
“There are many beaches around here,” I remind him, and he husks out a dry laugh.
“I can show you.” He lovingly runs his hand over the top of another car. “Need to see if this beauty runs smoothly, anyway.”
“Sure,” I say with a shrug. It’s not like I have any other plans for today.
“Hop in, then.” He opens the passenger door for me, which causes the corner of my mouth to sneak up.
He’s dangerous , Lilian’s voice screams in my head.
And yet it’s not the familiar sense of trepidation surging through me. There’s a startling, wild thump to my heart as I climb into the passenger side of the coupe.
Immediately, I glance around and take in every little detail that catches my eye.
There’s no stereo. A few wires are poking out in the most random spots along the dashboard. The passenger door is missing the lever to crank the window down. The interior reeks of gasoline, so rich and strong that I wonder if I’ll get high off of it—if that’s even possible.
Before long, he slides into the driver’s seat. I peek over to watch him turn the ignition on. Abruptly, the entire vehicle rumbles beneath me as it comes to life, barely outmatched by the rush of adrenaline coursing through my every vein.
“Ready?”
“Yeah,” I mumble, checking once again to make sure my seatbelt is secured. It’s only a lap belt. Some part of me is concerned about what would happen if we were to get into an accident, but otherwise, I’m not nervous at all.
Planting his hand on the back of my seat, he expertly throws the car in reverse and backs out onto the driveway. For a moment, I’m breathless as unexpected, unanticipated excitement sparks inside me like a lit flare. It takes me several seconds to tear my gaze away from him and his calm and casual posture.
“I’ll be right back.” Leaving me alone in his idling muscle car, he goes to deal with locking his garage up. I observe the dashboard out of curiosity, instantaneously distracted when I see him extend his arm up in my periphery. His triceps dimple his back while he pulls the garage door down.
Inexplicably, my neck burns.
The moment he returns, he gives me a look as if he’s waiting for me to change my mind. When I don’t say anything, he shifts a lever into first gear. “Ready to see the scenic route?”
Wordlessly, I nod. It’s all I can manage. I’m just too excited. Too buzzy with anticipation over what awaits us.
The edges of his lips pull up into something playful. “I can show you where I go to fuck, too?—”
“Oh my God,” I hiss out, mortification crashing over me like ocean waves. “Just drive.”