Chapter 2 #2
Iz was the first of us to obtain his permit, and his gift was in fact his dad’s Camaro.
He shouldn’t be here, but from the sound of it, he totally is.
I dash out of my room, practically flying down the stairs.
Pausing by the full-length mirror, I take a quick look to make sure I’m presentable.
My neon green bikini top sits securely, my hair is braided in a neat cascade down my back, and my frayed camo shorts add just the right touch of summer.
A dab of sunscreen on my nose adds a playful hint to the look.
Gathering my composure, I stride to the door and fling it open, my smile bright and unwavering.
There he is, sitting in the driver’s side of his Camaro, giving me the most beautiful smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling, enhancing the golden hue of them that always seems to mirror warm honey.
His onyx hair is tousled from the drive, giving him a look that’s part rebellious teenager, part model.
With a casual wave, he beckons me over, triggering both anticipation and nerves that make me slightly dizzy.
My feet move of their own accord, taking me closer to him and that cool black Camaro.
“Let’s go, Trouble,” Iz yells from inside the Camaro. The butterflies in my stomach take flight with the sound of my new nickname, Trouble. Still not sure why, but I can’t say I hate it. He promised one day he would explain why, when the time is right.
“Nice. You finally got it running?” I say excitedly, running out the door and towards him.
He smiles, his hand running down the dashboard. “We did. She’s beautiful.”
I nod in agreement. Opening the door, I slide into the passenger seat. “This is amazing, Iz.”
His smile grows wider, and his eyes sparkle. “You’re the first one to get in. Well, besides me. You’re the first.”
My heart clenches at his words. I’m the first, not Alexa, not Sledge, but me. Our eyes remain locked on each other before his red flip phone buzzes inside the cupholder.
“We gotta go. Sledge is getting impatient,” he says, almost apologetically.
“And you know how moody he gets when he waits for too long.” We both mumble in unison.
My body sinks into the leather seat. With the windows down and “Island in the Sun” by Weezer playing in the background, my fly-away tendrils dance with the wind.
The Camaro roars beneath us, and I find myself glancing over at Isaac, who hasn’t stopped smiling. His eyes gleaming with happiness and pride, before he turns to me, singing the lyrics of the song at the top of his lungs.
I laugh and join in singing the chorus. “Hip. Hip. Hip.”
Isaac’s foot presses down on the gas pedal, and the Camaro surges forward.
The engine growls like a beast unleashed, the raw power sending vibrations all through my body, especially that specific area.
Suddenly, he reaches over, taking my hand and intertwining our fingers.
I gasp in surprise at the abruptness of it all.
“Shift with me,” he says as he downshifts the Camaro.
His calloused hand feels rough on my soft skin.
My hands are sweaty, yet he doesn’t seem to mind.
All I can think about is my hand on his, making my heart beat frantically, and heat spreads through my cheeks.
I try to concentrate on the road ahead, but it’s hard when his presence is so terribly distracting.
“Isaac,” I breathe, my voice wavering ever so slightly. “I don’t know how to–”
His grip tightens around mine, and he shoots me a sideways glance, his hazel eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Just follow my lead,” he says, his voice low and steady, a stark contrast to the pounding rhythm of my heart.
We approach a curve in the road, and together, we shift the gear down.
The beast beneath us roars in approval as we rocket down the open road, the sun drawing long, golden lines on the asphalt. “Ready?”
I squeeze his hand in affirmation, receiving a wide grin in response.
His fingers guide mine over the gear stick, our hands moving in tandem as he shifts the car into gear.
The roar of the engine dips briefly before rising again.
My stomach flips as we pick up speed, the scenery around us blurring into streaks of green and gold.
Isaac’s hand over mine is warm and firm, guiding me through the motions as I manipulate the gear shift with unexpected grace.
“You’re a natural, Ronnie,” Isaac says over the music.
“You think so?” I grin, glancing over at his side profile. At almost seventeen, Isaac has only grown more handsome.
“I do.”
His response sets off a frenzy of movement in my stomach, but we don’t say anything.
We continue to drive like this, music thumping and laughter spilling between us, until we pull up to Sledge’s house.
Sledge is already outside, looking decidedly unamused, his expression a mix of irritation and impatience.
He’s wearing swimming trunks, with his blonde hair tied back into a loose ponytail, or maybe you’d call it a man bun.
“You’re late,” he complains, striding toward the car. I hop out to let him in, and he smirks at us before sliding into the back seat. “Fireflies” by Owl City fills the Camaro. We both turn to Iz.
“What the fuck type of music is this?” Sledge says.
“It’s a banger, and it’s on the CD,” Iz snorts, bobbing his head from side to side. I shoot him an amused look, watching as he continues to jam out, fingers tapping on the steering wheel as he sings along to the song.
Once Sledge is nice and seated, I get back in, and down the road we go, this time for Alexa.
It doesn’t take long, surprisingly. She lives right down the road from Sledge. Alexa is already outside, in a pink two-piece bathing suit and blue jean shorts with her hair in beach waves. As usual, she is taking selfies on her pink Blackberry phone.
“Lex,” I say, sticking my head out the window.
Alexa turns to us, her face smiling, but then she takes in the view. I’m in the passenger seat of Isaac’s Camaro and not her. I see it, the quick flash of jealousy that crosses her blue eyes. I feel a pang of guilt, unfortunately, not enough to give up my spot.
“Hey, guys,” she says as I step out to let her in.
Sledge groans as Alexa sits beside him. Then his eyes fall on her, drinking her in as if she were a refreshing drink on a hot summer day.
She doesn’t say anything else, just settles in and pulls out her phone again.
Sledge leans towards the radio, changing the song to Limp Bizkit’s “Break Stuff.” With a smile on his face, Iz turns up the music as I close the door.
Both boys rap in sync with the song, and it fills the Camaro with an electric charge.
I join in, swaying to the beat. Sledge starts to headbang, his now loose long hair swishing around him, and Alexa can’t help but laugh at the sight.
I laugh as I look at Alexa, the lingering tension disappearing under the onslaught of their ridiculous performance.
Iz starts pounding the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song, his eyes lit up with amusement as Sledge does his best Fred Durst impersonation.
The summer sun blazes down on us as we make our way to the stream for some fun.
We hit a bump in the road, and the Camaro bounces, causing Alexa to squeal as she grips the side handle. Iz just laughs and keeps his foot firmly on the gas pedal, his eyes dancing with glee in the rearview mirror.
The music changes again to The All-American Rejects’ “Dirty Little Secret.” My absolute jam, sticking my head out the window, I let the sun beam down on me as I sing along to the song, the wind playing with my hair and carrying my voice.
Without even thinking, my gaze moves towards the rearview mirror, trying to steal a peek, only to clash with hazel eyes that are already staring back at me.
A grin tugs at his lips. He knows this song is my guilty pleasure, the lyrics filling the car, and we all join in, four voices in unison rising above the purring engine.
Sledge’s deep bass drowns out the rest of us, but it doesn’t matter. Everything is perfect.