16 Young Americans
Young Americans
“Oh my God!” With a high-pitched squeal, I tip my face skyward, stretch my arms wide, and spin under the streetlight until my head swims. “I can’t believe I did that!”
Dash grabs my hand and darts his gaze over his shoulder as he tows me toward the car. “We need to get out of here. Someone might’ve seen us take that photo.”
“Noooo! I wanna celebrate.” Riding my endorphin high, I lock my muscles and bring us both to a stop in the middle of the road. “I don’t ever want this feeling to end!”
Dash tugs my hand, but I tug back, pulling hard enough to knock him off balance. He crashes into me, and I mold my palms to his chest.
His lips part, and he gazes down at me, dazed and out of breath. “What feeling?”
Up close, I can see the flecks of gold in his brown iris. I lick my lips, and his pupils dilate.
“This one.” I brush a strand of hair from his forehead.
His next breath catches in his throat, and he steps closer, his nose brushing mine. “What does it feel like?”
“ Dash . . . ” My pulse skitters.
Coming to Blacksburg was supposed to be about my mom, but standing under the glow of the streetlight with Dash’s eyes focused on my lips, all I want is for him to kiss me.
He dips his head, bringing his mouth close enough I can almost taste his lips.
My mind blanks as every rational thought evaporates like morning dew in the midday sun.
Instinct takes over, and I close my eyes and part my lips.
My internal voice goes deathly silent while I wait for his mouth to collide with mine.
With less than half a millimeter separating us, he groans and steps back. “We need to go.”
My eyes snap open, my emotions shuffling through confusion, grief, and anger in the time it takes to catch my breath. “Did ... did I?”
“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head as he walks off. “I can’t.”
With a frustrated whimper, I set off after him. “Dash, wait!”
“We need to get back on the road.” He picks up his pace. “The Holiday Inn in Lexington has a supercharger. We can top off the battery while we sleep. I don’t know about you, but I’m so exhausted I can’t think straight.”
“Did I do something wrong?” I catch up to him on the sidewalk.
“Of course not.” Refusing to look at me, he frowns and wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead.
“It’s getting late, that’s all. If we’re gonna make it to New York in time for the fireworks tomorrow, we need to get going.
You might be able to stay awake all night, but I need sleep every now and then. ”
“I could ...” I release a breath, and the words tumble out. “I could drive. To Lexington. So you can sleep for a little while.”
“I don’t think so.” Dash laughs darkly, his mask of cool disinterest firmly in place. “I’ve seen you drive.”
“Hey!” I reach for him.
He darts away, and I stomp my foot on the cracked concrete like a toddler.
“Don’t judge me based on what happened with that shitty Chevy! I’m usually a really good driver.”
He pivots, flashing a cold grin as he walks backward down the sidewalk. “Tell that to the armadillo.”
His barb stops me in my tracks, and I scramble for a witty comeback. “You ... you can’t blame me for the armadillo suicide rate in Tennessee!”
He shrugs and turns toward the Tesla, reaching the car in a few long strides, forcing me to jog to catch up. “I don’t want to sound like a dick, but you know how much this car is worth. I trust the autopilot more than I trust you.”
The brutal insult catches me off guard, and I flinch.
He unlocks the car and hands me Mom’s photo. “Get in.”
Stunned silent, I stare at him, unmoving and growing angrier by the second. What the hell just happened?
Dash leans out of the car, glaring at me from behind his stupid black-framed glasses. “Are you coming?”
A dozen snarky comebacks swim through my head, but none of them float to the surface.
Every one of them makes me sound desperate and immature, so I swallow them down and climb in.
And to think, I wanted to kiss this guy.
Well, I won’t make that mistake again. Screw him and his sinfully beautiful face.
I stew in my seat, wondering how the hell I’d misread his signals.
Dash lets out a loud sigh. “Don’t be mad.”
“Oh, I’m not mad,” I snap, already plotting my revenge. “Why would I be mad? I’m just peachy. Didn’t really want to drive anyway. Looking forward to catching up on my sleep.” I grab my pillow from the back seat and punch it a few times.
“Yeah.” He chuckles. “You don’t sound mad at all.”
“Because I’m not.” I wedge the pillow between my head and my shoulder, then lean against the doorframe. “Now, would you please be quiet so I can fall asleep?”
“You got it.” Dash switches on the radio and lowers the volume to a low buzz.
“ One day you’ll meet the perfect boy, Zoey, and you’ll fall in love.
” Mom dries my tears, brushes my hair back from my face, and presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
“And you won’t even remember the boy who broke your heart in second grade, or any of the reasons why you liked him in the first place.
Because that new boy will be everything you didn’t even know you wanted. ”
A door slams, startling me awake, and I blink against the orange glow of morning.
With the sun barely clear of the horizon, the inside of the car is already as hot as a pizza oven—and, apparently, I’m the pizza.
I lift my head from my sweaty pillow, sending pins and needles through my arm as blood rushes from my shoulder to my fingertips.
My muscles scream as I unlock the tension gripping them in place.
Even my jaw somehow glued itself shut as if I slept with a mouth full of honey .
.. and woke up to the taste of old gym socks.
“Dash?” A quick peek at the empty driver’s seat answers my question.
For a guy who didn’t trust me behind the wheel of his car, he sure didn’t mind locking me inside like an abandoned shih tzu. He could’ve at least cracked a window for me.
Outside, an older man connects his black Tesla to the supercharger. Across the parking lot, several people exit the Holiday Inn Express. I guess we arrived in Lexington while I slept. If I only knew where my infuriating travel partner disappeared to.
Afraid I’ll set off his fancy car alarm if I open the door for air, I dig for my phone to text him instead.
I get as far as the lock screen before discovering dozens of missed calls, most of them from Damian.
Hell isn’t nearly cold enough for me to call him back, so I scroll through the rest of the list. G-Lo’s name pops up several times, along with several texts from both her and Jeanie, and at least one missed FaceTime request. With Dash who-knows-where doing who-knows-what, I decide to check in with my grandmother while I have the chance.
“Thank goodness you’re alive.” She doesn’t sound nearly as concerned as she’d have me believe. “Jeanie was about to call the FBI.”
“I could’ve used a little FBI intervention, or at least the local sheriff, in Cookeville yesterday.
Between the pissed-off farmer, the drug dealer, and the motorcycle gang—” G-Lo cackles into my ear, so I hold the phone at a distance until her laughter dies down.
“I’m glad you’re amused. I almost died three times! ”
“Don’t pout. I knew you were fine. Jeanie traced your phone to Blacksburg last night.”
“Jeanie what?” I gasp.
“She said she added your phone to her friend searcher app before you left. To be safe.”
I’m too impressed to be angry.
“Modern technology.” G-Lo snorts. “So, Blacksburg?”
I drop my gaze to my lap and pick at the loose thread on my jeans. “We stopped at Sammy’s.”
“Did you find it?”
I glance down at the photo peeking out of my tote. “I did.”
The line goes quiet for so long I check the connection.
“We had such a good time that night,” she whispers. “Your mom surprised me. I had no idea she could sing.”
“I wish they’d taken a video instead of a picture.”
“Me, too, honey. Me, too.”
I bite back a grin, my pulse racing from the memory. “We stole it.”
“The picture?”
“Dash helped me climb onto a table and ...” Giddy excitement washes over me all over again. “I can’t believe I did that.”
“It sounds like you’re having a wonderful adventure.”
“I am. I even kinda-sorta learned to drive a stick shift, not that I’ll be trying that again anytime soon. But ...” I choke back a sob as the desperate desire to hear Mom’s voice washes over me.
“Zoey, what’s wrong?” G-Lo asks.
“I just ...” The last thing I want is to ask my grandmother for advice about guys, but it’s either her or Jeanie, and I’d sooner die than ask my sister. “I think I really screwed up last night.”
“By stealing a picture? Oh, honey, I’ve done far worse—”
“No. Not that. I thought ...” I touch my lips, the impression left by Dash’s finger still seared in my memory, the taste of his hot breath still lingering.
“I was so sure he was going to kiss me, but at the last second, he pulled away and got ... mad? We both said some pretty harsh words, and we ... we haven’t spoken since.
” I let out a slow breath, resting my head against the glass.
“I have no idea what I did wrong. Maybe it’s for the best. We’re from completely different worlds.
But God, I really wanted him to kiss me. ”
“Is he . . . ?” She trails off.
“Gay? No. I already grilled him on the way to Memphis. Unless he’s lying, he’s straight.
And he certainly seemed interested.” My thoughts drift back to our almost kiss, and heat floods my cheeks.
“Until he wasn’t. And now ...” I can’t help wondering if peeing my pants repulsed him. Damian sure as hell would’ve been.
“What did he say when you told him you dumped the douche canoe?”
A bead of sweat slides down my temple, and I wipe it with the back of my hand. “I-I didn’t.”
Her breath hitches. “You didn’t tell him?”
“No.” I squeeze my eyes shut and slump into my seat. “I didn’t want him to think ... it doesn’t matter now.”
“Maybe that’s why he didn’t kiss you.”
“You’re right.” I blow out a breath. I may not know much about Dash Hammond, but I’m pretty sure he’s not the kind of guy who would steal another guy’s girlfriend. “I’m so stupid.”
“What are you waiting for?”
I scrub a hand down my sweaty face. “If I tell him now, he’ll think it’s because he didn’t kiss me.”
“Isn’t it, though?” G-Lo laughs. “Give him a little credit. He may be relieved to find out you’re unattached.”
“But what if he’s not?”
“Not what?”
“Relieved? Interested?” I glance at Dash’s worn copy of On the Road and groan. “Why would a college graduate, who drives a damn Tesla and reads Kerouac for fun , be interested in a small-town girl with nothing but a high school diploma and zero life experience?”
“Why would he agree to drive you halfway across the country if he wasn’t at least intrigued?”
“I don’t know.” My attention drifts as I search the distance for a familiar face. “Maybe you’re right.”
“You know, your mother had a steamy little romance the summer we took our trip.”
My jaw drops. “She did?”
“Didn’t you read her diary?”
“I haven’t made it that far. I’m sort of reading along based on where she wrote each entry. So I can feel like I’m right there with her.”
“Oh, honey.” G-Lo clears her throat. “Why don’t you skip ahead a little? Maybe it’ll give you some fresh ideas. Follow her lead. Drag that boy into a tent for some—”
Dash peers through the driver’s side window, and I jump.
“Gotta go! Call you when we get to New York.” I end the call before she can finish her thought.
“Boyfriend?” Dash climbs in with a drink carrier and two white paper bags. His messy hair is even more disheveled than normal after spending the night in the car.
I shake my head. “My G-Lo.”
He nods, his smoldering gaze drifting to my lips.
My mouth goes dry, and I swallow reflexively, squirming under his scrutiny. What a confusing creature he is. “W-What’s in the bags?”
My question breaks the spell, my lips seemingly forgotten as Dash’s eyes light up. He places the bags between us, last night’s anger melting in the morning sun. “I got doughnuts. I wasn’t sure which kind you like, so I got one of everything.”
“Wow. Thank you.” Once again, his thoughtfulness catches me off guard.
His head bobs, his cheeks flushing crimson. “And coffee. I figured we both needed a healthy dose of caffeine.”
“Oh, thank God!”
Grinning, he hands me my cup.
I bring the coffee to my lips and release a groan as I inhale the fragrant steam.
“I added exactly three sugars and one and a half creamers,” he says.
Pausing mid sip, I raise my eyes and lock my gaze on his. “How’d you know?”
Dash smirks. “I’ve spent the better part of three days with you. I think I know how you like your coffee by now.”
An uncomfortable tightness grips my chest, and tears prick my eyes. “Damian would never ...”
Confirming my earlier suspicions, he scowls and shifts his attention to the world outside his window.
The man is too honorable to put the moves on someone he thinks is spoken for.
I bet he’d never skip his girlfriend’s mom’s funeral, either.
He’s Damian’s polar opposite. Just one more reason to like him.
Dash moves into my peripheral vision, and my quick intake of breath catches his attention.
“It’s just coffee, Zoey.” He fidgets with one of the white bags, his face turning even redder as he hands it to me.
“And doughnuts,” I remind him.
My gaze drifts to his lips as I contemplate taking G-Lo’s advice. Now would be the perfect time to tell him I broke up with Damian.
“Hey, Dash?”
He lowers his coffee and meets my gaze. “Yes?”
The confession rests on the tip of my tongue for several seconds, but instead of coming clean, I panic. As badly as I want to kiss him, I can’t right now. I haven’t brushed my teeth since yesterday. “Uh, thanks for breakfast.”
“You’re welcome.” A deep furrow settles between his brows, as if he’s trying to read my mind. “You okay?”
“Fine. Great. Starving.” I reach into the bag and pull out the first doughnut my fingers touch—a cream-filled, chocolate-frosted delicacy—and sink my teeth in with a groan.