16. Dane
16
DANE
I’m not ashamed to admit I jacked off twice this morning, as well as every other morning for the past week. I’m so keyed up that I take my frustration out on my latest project car, probably—no, definitely —doing more damage to it than fixing it at this point.
So when I get a coded text about a meet happening soon, I’m already deciphering it within a heartbeat.
Before I even think about it, I gear up for my next street race. There’s a small voice in the back of my head telling me to stop. That I know better. That I should do everything I can to lie low and avoid any possibility of my father finding out I’m slipping back into my old habits.
But then my attention snags on an admission ticket left on my workbench. Whatever reservation I have ceases to exist as a taut ball of tension grows in my stomach. As my mind wanders to the one person I know I should stop thinking about.
Frustration boils over, and I storm to the other side of the garage, pop Ol’ Reliable’s hood, and make sure everything is good to go. Anything to keep my thoughts off of her.
A short drive later, I find myself pulling up to the location I’ve decoded. It’s this stretch of road no one ever takes. The freeway running flush to it is much more convenient.
There’s a sizable crowd—mostly familiar faces in attendance tonight. I clock Giancarlo first and clench my jaw at the smug, knowing look plastered across his face. I then spot Wally, who won’t shut the fuck up with the Old News comments in the hour we wait for other racers to arrive.
Some part of me is almost bummed when I’m not selected to go against him. With the bald tires his vehicle’s sporting, it would be an easy win for me. It won’t be much of a challenge, but nothing would be sweeter than to witness him throwing an inevitable little hissy fit.
Thankfully, there’s one person I don’t see anywhere. I even check in with Shyla and Eddie for confirmation that Marco’s nowhere near here. One of us needs to keep his head out of trouble, and I’d be fucking pissed if it’s not him. Especially after his last run-in with Giancarlo. The only thing he should be focusing on is the morning surf. Besides, what would his mom think if she were still here?
With the first race about to start, I return to my car. Just as I’m about to put my helmet on, my phone buzzes. I catch a glimpse of the text the moment I fish it out of my pocket.
Reese’s Pieces: I took your advice about making the first move
The shattered screen digs into the flesh of my palm.
Dane: and?
Dane: has Reese finally been stuffed?
How my phone’s not breaking in my viselike grip right now is a testimony to the material it’s made of.
Reese’s Pieces: OMG stop it
Reese’s Pieces: I asked if he wanted to go see this movie that’s still screening at the theater near campus
Reese’s Pieces: But he’s busy with music homework :(
His fucking loss. My fingers are moving at a rapid speed as I send her my response.
Dane: want me to take you?
Reese’s Pieces: You don’t like indie movies
Dane: I want to see what all the fuss is about
Reese’s Pieces: I don’t want you to be bored
Dane: you’re gonna go alone?
“Are you gonna just stand there all day or what?” Eddie hollers. I turn my back to him and blatantly ignore anything else he has to say.
Reese’s Pieces: I’ll just wait to rent it at home
Dane: pick the last showing and I’ll take you so you don’t have to wait long to see it
Reese’s Pieces: Dane it’s okay
Reese’s Pieces: I’m fine with waiting for it to be available online
Dane: then I’ll just buy two tickets and go by myself
Reese’s Pieces: Don’t be ridiculous
Reese’s Pieces: Don’t waste your money
Dane: then take the other ticket
Dane: because I’ll be there later tonight
Dane: it’s your choice if you want to be there or not
A loud horn blares. My middle finger goes up. I stow my phone away, slam the hood down, and shove my helmet on as I slide behind the wheel.
When checkered flags ripple through the air, I’m already gunning it down the stretch of road. Goddamn, I fucking miss this. Even though I drive every chance I can get, I forget how much I enjoy the power. The speed. The acceleration.
It’s the only time I ever feel in complete control. Knowing that the adrenaline, the rush, the excitement coursing through my every vein is all me?
Pure. Fucking. Ecstasy.
I deserve a medal for being able to sit through the entire movie without glazing over, passing out, or spending the whole time checking out the brunette next to me who is much more enraptured by the plot than I am. She’s fucking adorable.
I pay attention to the damn screen because I know the instant we step foot outside the theater, she’s going to want to discuss the film, and glazing over while being subjected to the blandest flick I’ve ever seen won’t do me any favors.
And I’m right.
The moment we’re outside, Reese is already discussing the cinematography in extensive detail. I don’t think she manages to take a breath. While I have no fucking idea what she’s talking about when she starts to get really into the specifics of cameras and shots, my focus is solely on her as she visibly becomes more animated with her discussion.
Then, out of nowhere, she abruptly stops talking. Her excitement gives way to something sheepish. “I’m sorry, I’m talking too much?—”
“Nonsense, Reese’s Pieces.” My words are met with a skeptical glance, and I shrug. I have no idea what to do with my hands, so I shove them into my pockets. “Keep going.”
“No, I’m boring you,” she murmurs, diverting her gaze to a nearby hedge. “Even Lili would have checked out by now.”
“Well, good thing I’m not Lili,” I remind her. Or Blue Balls.
Although, I’m dealing with a major case of the fucking blue balls .
Her attention pivots back to me, accompanied by this starry look in her eyes. Fucking hell. Something squeezes tight in my chest, and I clench my jaw. Breathe through my nostrils. Think about literally anything that comes to mind just to stave off the fucking hard-on when she continues to peer up at me with the sweetest expression I’ve ever witnessed.
“What was it you were saying about the composition and lighting?”
Her mouth opens, but she holds up a finger when her purse buzzes. “Gimme a sec.” She unzips it and shoves aside a few packets of trail mix. “I think someone just texted me.”
“Your sister?” I ask. I hope.
“Caleb.” With her phone in hand, she punches in her passcode, and a bright smile spreads across her face and gives my hard-on a swift death. “He wants to know what I’m up to?” Her eyes collide with mine, and the hopeful gleam in her gaze cuts through me like a knife. “I don’t know what to say.”
Tell Blue Balls you’re with me .
“Play hard to get,” I suggest instead.
“I don’t want to play games,” she mumbles. “And considering how many dates we’ve gone on,” she adds, and my gut reflexively tightens, “where nothing happens? I don’t know… What should I say to him?”
That you’re with me right now.
“That doesn’t come off as desperate or hard to get ,” she tacks on and bashfully ducks her head as a dark shade of red blossoms across her cheeks.
“Tell him you went to see the movie without him.” My voice is far too thick and gritty for my liking. “Maybe he’ll take you next time.” My stomach sours at the thought, followed by this plummeting sensation in my chest.
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and unintentionally snares my attention. Every ounce of my self-control is being tested while I try not to think about her mouth parting around a blissful sigh as I position myself between her thighs and slide?—
“He said he wished he could have seen it with me.”
“Then why the fuck didn’t he?” The blunt edge to my tone causes her to look up from her phone.
“House meeting,” she explains.
“Nice to see where the guy’s priorities are,” I deadpan with a scoff, crossing my arms against my chest.
Unsurprisingly, she comes to his defense. “Lili’s sorority has mandatory meetings, too.”
“Over what? Whose turn is it to do the dishes?”
She fights her snort with a mild cough. “I’m not an actual member, so I wouldn't know.” Then her gaze returns to her cell. “Oh! He asked if I want to stop by?—”
“The frat house?”
“Yeah.”
Good God, the mental image that pops into my head ain’t pretty. The last thing I ever want to think about is Blue Balls taking Reese back to his room. I bet he has a fucking lava lamp and a collection of whiny artists on vinyl he’ll fucking go on and on about. Maybe he’ll brag nonstop about owning cassettes or whatever hipster bullshit he’s into. Perhaps he’ll wax poetic about the importance of analog and how the sound quality is so damn superior to digital because the man is full of himself.
Reese will fucking eat this shit up because that’s who she is. She’s thoughtful and kind and always expresses interest in people’s hobbies and passions.
Suddenly, my breath rushes out of my lungs. I feel like the world’s biggest chump right now, even though I know I shouldn’t.
Deep down, I’ve known all along I never had a chance with her. With or without Blue fucking Balls in the way.
A girl like her would never get involved with someone like me. I’m just along for the ride until she wises up, realizes I’m no good, and leaves like everybody else does.
She’s not my type , I tell myself. Not my type, not my fucking type.
“And… sent.” Her voice snaps me back to reality. I watch her hastily shove her phone into her purse and suddenly entertain the idea of dragging her back inside and subjecting myself to a hundred more bland movies. Anything to delay the inevitable.
“You’re gonna go see him?” I ask gruffly.
“Hmm? No.” She shakes her head. “That’d be rude.”
“Rude?”
“I’m hanging out with you,” she says, and my stupid heart swells into my throat. I don’t know what to respond with. “It’d be rude of me to ditch you while we’re hanging out.”
For several beats, all I can manage to do is stare at her. I open my mouth, but can’t get a single syllable out. Apparently, my tongue has quit on me.
With a rough swallow, I mutter, “Come on, Reese. Do Blue Balls a favor and put him out of his misery.” My words sound so strange and far away to my ears.
She rolls her eyes and readjusts a butterfly-shaped clip in her hair. “No way.”
“Damn, girl, you're really gonna let him die of a curable case of?—”
“I’m hanging out with you,” she repeats, and her nose scrunches up. “Don't make me regret it.”
The teasing note in her tone is emphasized by the adorable smile at the edge of her lips—fucking hell. My heartbeat is way too loud and deafening. Then her eyes go a little too starry-soft and elicit an answering squeeze in my heart.
One I choose to ignore because there’s no other alternative. Not with her. Not while she wants someone else.
She toys with the strap of her purse and casts a glance at the ground between our feet. “Thanks for going with me to see this. It… means a lot to me.”
I suck in a sharp breath and play it off with a shrug. “If my little savior wants to go see a movie, we go see a movie.”
“Little savior?” She makes a face. Already, I miss the starry-soft glow in her eyes. “Don’t call me that. I barely did anything.”
“Sometimes, the littlest thing can mean everything.”
Her head tips back as she looks up at me. A slow and equally shy smile tugs at her lips and makes me feel pretty fucking stupid for saying those loaded words to the tiny girl before me.
“Tell me more about cameras,” I suggest, a roughened edge to my voice. I need a distraction and will take anything I can get to stop fixating on the rapid rhythm of my pulse.
“Really?”
“Why the fuck not?” I shrug, feigning nonchalance.
She hesitates and gnaws on her lip. Before I can say anything else, I’m hit with the sudden impact of her grin. It’s somewhat timid, but it’s so damn sweet. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
With a nervous laugh, she finally dives into it and talks to me about the importance of framing shots. The words spill out of her in a breathless rush. Her cheeks are flushed by the time we get to my car, and I don’t miss the fact that her eyes are extremely starry-soft and hazy the entire walk over.