13. Reese
13
REESE
The drive back to my apartment is awkward and tense. I almost want to duck and roll out of the muscle car and walk home on foot, but one glance at the complicated door handle lets me know I’m going to have trouble trying to open it again.
Instead, I settle for gnawing on my bottom lip. I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that I had a mini panic attack, the fact that I’m genuinely embarrassed about my scar being seen in broad daylight, or the fact that Dane Kingsley was there to witness it.
“This never happened,” I say, my words a scratch above a whisper.
I know it’s not healthy to live in denial, but it’s free. Not only that, it’s been the best coping mechanism for me. Pretending nothing’s wrong has been the best course of action because I don’t have to think about it, and more importantly, it gets people off my back.
To them, you’re either one hundred percent better or you’re not. And when they think I’m not fine, they believe I’m broken. I’m not in a bad place as I was two years ago. I’m a good seventy or eighty percent most of the time these days. It hasn’t dipped under sixty since I left the state of New Mexico behind me.
When people want me to talk about the night I was attacked, it truly digs up old wounds and ruins the semblance of a new normal I’ve created for myself. I appreciate the concern, but I can’t move on with my life if people keep expecting me to revisit the past.
“What never happened?” Dane asks after a beat, voice casual.
The tension seeps out of my shoulders. I sigh with relief. Some part of me expected him not to let this go, given how stubborn he’s proven to be.
“Reese’s Pieces,” he says, and I’m still too embarrassed to look at him. I keep my attention elsewhere, peering intently at the side-view mirror beside me. “There’s nothing wrong with scars.”
“Dane.”
“I got plenty.”
That gets me to glance his way. Genuine worry knits my brow together and sends my heart to a skidding halt. “That doesn’t make me feel better. It only makes me more concerned.”
Without taking his eyes off the road, he snickers. “Are you worried about me, Reese?”
“I am,” I answer truthfully.
“If it makes you feel better, it’s only when some fucker takes me by surprise?—”
“That does not make me feel better,” I gasp hotly.
“—or when they gang up on me.”
I drag in a deep breath as I gape at him. “That,” I strangle out, “does not make me feel better at all.”
He chuckles. “I’m just saying, I got plenty of them.”
“Yeah, but…”
“But what?”
Giving him a slow perusal, I don’t see any scars on his body—on any inch of his exposed skin—at the very moment. There’s nothing I can make out besides how toned and muscular his arms are underneath the dim streetlight. My neck prickles with sudden heat.
“I’m going to have to take my shirt off?—”
“Excuse me?” I gasp, and my neck heats even more.
“—if you want to see my scars.”
“Oh.” My face is scorching hot with so much embarrassment that I almost duck my head to avert my gaze. I clear my throat. A flutter of nerves remains low in my belly. “I’m fine. You don’t have to take off your shirt. And I’ve already seen your scars… kind of.”
“When?”
“The night I helped you.”
“You still owe me dinner for that,” Dane says, his expression serious. “Can’t believe you made me take my shirt off without buying me dinner first.”
Bewildered, I gawp at him again, watching a wolfish grin tug at the edges of his lips. “You want me to take you out to dinner?”
“What? Are you afraid to be seen out in public with me?”
“I was literally just at the beach with you,” I remind him.
“It’s all right, Reese.” He shakes his head, clutching his chest as if he’s been wounded. “If you’re afraid to be seen out in public with me?—”
“I’m not afraid to be seen out in public with you,” I protest, and his smirk widens.
“Then you plan on taking me out to dinner tomorrow?”
I stare at him, blinking slowly. Did he just hoodwink me ? Against my better judgment, I say, “I’m free next Saturday if you want to get sushi.”
“When you say sushi,” Dane cuts in, “do you mean high-grade sushi or mediocre sushi?”
“Reasonably priced sushi.”
He expels a snort. “What is reasonably priced sushi to you? Because I’m not risking food poisoning from gas station sushi.”
I make an offended noise. Is he for real? “Who would eat gas station sushi? I would not subject us to that.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
I glare as he rumbles with laughter, a sound so warm and rich that it’s downright lethal. I’m so genuinely floored by the heady notes and the way his mouth tips up at the corners that my heart gives a soft flutter.
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll pick you up next Saturday, and you can point out which gas station?—”
I reach over to poke him in the ribs.
“Point out which restaurant ,” he amends, “you want to go to. And”—he pulls up to the curb beside my building and kills the engine—“put on something you want to wear. You don’t have to hide your scar around me.”
With that, he looks directly at me, and the sincerity in his gaze causes my chest to squeeze tight in a wordless answer.
“I…” I bite my bottom lip as I struggle to open the passenger door. The damn pesky handle . “Thank you for driving me home.”
“I mean it, Reese. You don’t have to hide yourself from me.”
My cheeks go warm while I step out into the chilly autumn night, and I offer him a reluctant nod. “Bye , Dane. Thanks for everything.” Then I frown when I realize he’s getting out as well. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going to walk you back to your apartment.”
“Really? Why?”
“What do you mean why?” A small divot forms between his brows. “Have you seen the area you live in?”
Despite my gratefulness for his offer, I huff out a scoff as I start walking toward my place. Is there a sign on my back telling people to give me crap about where I’m living?
“Well, where do you live that’s so fancy?” I ask him. “Antarctica?”
His lips quirk into a thoroughly amused smirk. “Las Marinas.”
Oh God, that’s fancy. No, that’s beyond fancy. Las Marinas is a wealthy, affluent beach town, one I’ve only taken the bus to once with Lili during the summer before my freshman year started. I know how expensive that place is. Coffee in that city is in the double digits.
“It’s not as nice as Las Marinas,” I hedge, “but it's not that bad here. But, um, thanks for the concern.”
“No problem, Reese.”
As we climb up the stairs, I find myself really, really, really hyperaware of him and the proximity of his body to mine. The sway of his arm. The flex of his biceps. The gentle rise and fall of his strong chest with his every breath.
Peeking up, I lock eyes with him, instantaneously aware of the fact he caught me stealing glances. For some reason, I can’t look away. A lump begins to take shape in my throat with each second that passes while I hold his gaze.
“Thanks again,” I whisper. “For everything today.”
“It’s no problem.” His mouth slants up at the corner. “I mean it, Reese. You don’t have to hide yourself from me.”
I break eye contact and glance at my shoes, stiffly bobbing my head as I reach for my keys. “I got it.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.” With a weak smile, I enter my apartment and quickly turn to face him. He remains standing on the other side of the doorway, and my pulse rushes in my ears when it occurs to me that I don’t want to stop hanging out with him. Not yet. Besides my freakout… today’s been one of the nicest days I’ve had in, well, forever .
Before I can say anything, Dane hikes his chin. “I’ll see you Saturday for gas station sushi.”
“Uh-huh.” Rolling my eyes ever so slowly, I bite back my amusement when I catch him smirking. “Can’t wait for all the gas station sushi we’ll be having.”
His grin widens. My breath is momentarily arrested. “See ya then, Reese.” With a final nod, he shoves his hands into his pockets and makes his departure.
Watching him go, I wait for him to disappear down the stairs before I shut the door and try to make sense of my wildly beating heart.