25. Reese
25
REESE
With Thanksgiving next week, Lilian has been blowing up my phone. Her sorority is hosting Friendsgiving again, and she wants me to confirm for the nth time I’m coming. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be. Back in New Mexico with our mom and her boyfriend? No thanks.
I send my sister a text promising I’ll be there with sparkling apple cider, then lean back in my seat and enjoy the scenery as the convertible flies down the road. It’s exhilarating.
With the top down, the engine thunderous, and the air salty and rich with gasoline, I feel… very much alive. Adrenaline courses through me as the car takes a sharp turn at high speed. I’m not a thrill seeker, but… I can see the appeal.
In my periphery, Dane is the definition of confidence. It’s not from a place of arrogance. He’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him. There’s no point of tension in his body. He’s just so undeniably assured and calm.
His black hair rustles with the wind. His blue eyes have a serene quality to them. His broad shoulders casually lean into his seat as he drums his fingers along the top of the steering wheel.
He is in his element.
I silently watch him. For a short spell, it’s all I do. There’s no point in talking. When he’s going this fast, he’s not much of a conversationalist. He’s too focused on the road.
All of a sudden, his demeanor shifts. He’s no longer smiling. His teeth grit as he sits forward and strangles the steering wheel.
“She’s gonna cut us off,” he growls, jamming his foot on the brakes as a red sedan barrels into our lane. Time slows down into frame rates. My heartbeat is in my throat as the other car narrowly avoids being clipped by the convertible. There’s only a fraction of an inch between both vehicles. My soul has shriveled up and died faster than a houseplant under my sister’s care.
Screeching tires rend the air as Dane swerves into the bike lane.
“ Learn how to use your fucking mirrors !” he snarls, flipping the bird.
Trembling, I stare ahead as the sedan maintains speed at what must be twenty under the posted limit. I’m squeezing my phone so tightly that I wouldn’t be surprised if it fused with my hand.
“Sorry.” Dane’s face comes into view. “You all right?”
“Yeah.” I let out a shaky breath. “I promise,” I tack on when a small divot forms between his dark brows. “Swear on my pinky.”
His expression doesn’t ease up. His throat works with a rough swallow before he streaks his fingers through his hair. “You can be the best driver in the world and still be at the mercy of some fucking dumbass on the road.”
“That is totally reassuring,” I deadpan. “I definitely cannot wait to learn how to drive with these inspiring words.”
“You don’t know how to drive?” He feigns offense, splaying his hand against his heart.
“I never had the opportunity to learn. Or the time,” I stammer. “And with what car? What’s the point of learning if I don’t have one to practice with?”
With a shake of his head, he pulls over completely. “That has to change.”
“Wait. Are you kicking me out because I don’t know how to drive?”
“No.” He fights his grin. “We’re switching seats.”
My throat closes up. “Do you want me to crash into that pole? Because this car has a date with that pole in the next thirty seconds.”
He snorts as he cuts the engine. “You’ll be fine. I’ll have my hand on the emergency brake the entire time.”
“But—”
He hops out of the vehicle before I can get another word in. Bewildered, I say nothing when he opens the passenger door.
“Come on, Reese. You’ll never have a better teacher than me.”
“I’ve seen how your other student drives,” I say flatly.
“And he’s fucking good at it,” Dane replies without missing a beat. “Now, come on. Let me show you a thing or two before daylight’s over.”
“Are you gonna teach me how to Tokyo Drift ?”
His mouth twitches at the corner. “No. I’ll teach you how to drift one of these days if you want?—”
“I’m good.” I swallow past the small lump in my throat. Knowing my luck, I’ll somehow launch this convertible into the ocean instead of pulling it off.
“All right. Let me know if you change your mind. I’ll have to get my other car?—”
“Why not this one?”
He chuckles as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “If it’s got a carburetor, it ain’t drifting well.”
I’ve got no idea what he means by that, but I offer him a small nod, regardless. This must be what it’s like to be in his shoes when I go on and on about how camera lighting can contribute to visual storytelling based on its balance and depth.
“Ol’ Reliable can handle the maneuver,” he continues. “Her front camber’s fixed for it.”
Again, I have no idea what any of these words mean.
“Anyway, let me give you the basics.” He extends his hand, and I reluctantly take it after I unbuckle my seatbelt. “Lucky for you, this girl’s an automatic. It’ll be easy.”
Trepidation floods my bloodstream as I meet his gaze. “Say goodbye to your car.”
He slips into a smirk. “I have plenty more back at my garage.”
All too soon, I find myself behind the wheel. I pull the driver’s seat all the way up—which he ribs me for good-naturedly—then readjust the rearview mirror. My peripheral vision spots him holding up my phone. I twist to gawp at him, then recoil slightly when the flash goes off. I’m pretty certain I was mid-blink.
“For your fiesta.”
“Finsta,” I correct, reaching for my phone. “Gimme that?—”
“It’s not safe to text and drive.” He pockets it and hikes his chin. “Now, put your left hand here.”
For the next ten minutes, he gives me a rundown on the levers, brakes, and pedals. He does not leave out any details.
“Don’t be that idiot who uses both feet,” he explains. “You don’t want to accidentally hit the gas and get into a collision.”
“Got it. Hit them both at the same time,” I tease, and I freeze in place when he levels me with a dark scowl.
“We do not joke about car safety,” he growls.
Oof. “I was just being silly,” I mumble, and the hard lines on his face give way to something softer. “I won’t say another word.”
Remorse shines in his eyes, and he allows himself a quiet sigh. “Sorry, it’s a touchy subject,” he replies gruffly. “You’re good.” Clearing his throat, he goes over the levers near the steering wheel.
I pay extra attention just so he knows I’m taking this seriously. I can feel his gaze on me the entire time, and my heart twists when he puts a tentative hand on my shoulder in a small act of comfort and apology.
“And there you have it,” Dane wraps up. “Now start ’er up.”
My bottom lip worries between my teeth as I twist the key, and my breath freezes in my lungs when the engine rumbles to life. Was it always this loud ?
Instinctively, my fingers tighten around the steering wheel. My pulse has rushed into my ears. I feel like I’m going to puke. I can practically taste the club sandwich threatening to make a reappearance.
“Reese, you’ll be fine,” he assures me.
“I’m not fine,” I squeak.
“If anything, you’re sexy.”
Despite myself, I burst into giggles. “I’m trying to take this seriously, Kingsley. Now’s not the time for you to be silly.”
“I was being serious, too,” he says, and I glance sideways at him. Something gentle takes over his features as he holds my gaze. “I promise you, everything will be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
With a terse nod, I redirect my attention to the gear lever. I don’t think I’m breathing as I run through the steps in my head. Unease plagues me as I stare ahead.
I’ve had a good run. Nineteen years is pretty great, considering it’s two more than I ever expected.
My foot hits the gas, and Dane shouts immediately as the car shrieks to a halt. I think I am, too. Shrieking, that is.
“ Easy, girl , easy !” His hand is white-knuckling the emergency brake, whereas both of mine are clutching my chest.
“ I’m sorry ,” I gasp, rattled. “This is why I don’t drive. I’m a menace behind the wheel .”
He snorts, then brings a fist up to his mouth and snickers into it.
“All right, menace,” he sounds out slowly, and I choose to ignore that. He hacks out a bunch of coughs and thumps his sternum. “Think of it as sex. You need to ease into it the first time.”
My eyebrows scrunch. “Is sex always on your mind?”
“That and cars,” comes his response, and this time, his laughter tears loose from him. It’s a nice laugh, even though it’s at my expense. There’s a subtle warmth to it.
“Oh my God,” I mutter, pressing my finger against my brow bone. “You are such a guy.”
“Go slow,” he reminds me. “ Ease into it.”
I spare him a tight-lipped smile. “Got it.”
Finally, he removes his hand from the emergency brake. With a steadying breath, I ease into it with a gentle tap.
“All right,” he says, whistling out a low note. “Attagirl.”
My neck erupts into flames, and I nearly squeak. I’m suddenly too aware of how blazing hot my cheekbones are.
“Aw, you like that,” he says, ever the freakishly observant guy.
“Shut up,” I wheeze as I bring the car’s speed up to thirty miles per hour.
“You’re doing such a great job, baby girl,” he drawls, lowering his voice to a husky whisper. I would glare daggers at him if I weren’t busy trying to make the turn around a bend. “Keep going, baby?—”
“Swear to God, Kingsley,” I choke out, then startle when a horn honks behind us. Suddenly, a minivan swings into the opposing lane. The driver flips the bird before he cuts us off, and I shrink.
“Ignore him,” Dane says. “And don’t take your eyes off the road.”
“I don’t like being an inconvenience.”
“Then drive at the speed limit.”
I get the convertible up to fifty, then squeeze the steering wheel in a death grip for the next stretch of road. Thankfully, he directs me to a nearby lot. It’s a good call on his end. Any longer and I might inadvertently snap the metal wheel in half.
“Are we done now?” Every fiber of my being winces when the car hits the sidewalk and mounts the curb.
“Not yet,” he answers. “You need to learn how to park and reverse before we wrap things up.”
“Do I have to?”
“Reese. Reversing is fun,” he says. “It really is.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” I suck air between my teeth when I somehow manage to take up two parking spaces. “Was your experience anything like this the first time you drove?”
“Nah. I knew how to drive at the posted speed.”
I finally get the chance to glare daggers at him. “Wow, look at you, Mr. I Know How To Drive Cars So Fantastically.”
He snickers and claps his hand on my shoulder. “Reese, you did an okay job.”
My eyebrow lifts. “Oh? What happened to such a great job, baby girl ?” I retort, and his grin broadens.
“ Aw, baby, you did so well for me. ” His voice sinks into a husky murmur, and my whole body feels like it’s been set ablaze. “ I am so proud of you ?—”
My finger smushes against his lips. I level him with a warning look and pry my hand away.
“Glad to know Mr. Self-Taught did so well his first time,” I mutter, and he chuckles roughly.
“Yeah… That was not the case.” He leans back in his seat and scrubs the line of his jaw. “My first time ended with three totaled cars.”
“ Three ?” I yelp, and I swivel toward him with saucer-wide eyes. “How?”
“I was being stupid.”
“Were you texting?—”
“No. Nothing like that. I was the only one driving that night.”
My eyebrows knit together. Maybe it’s me, but it’s hard to imagine him—the guy who complains about people not using blinkers—causing that much damage. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want?—”
“I was a dumbass kid who stole my father’s car and took it for a joyride.” His gaze bores blankly into mine, his words unnervingly clinical and matter-of-fact. “Lost control of the vehicle and overcorrected it like an idiot. I pummeled two cars whose only crime was being parked outside.”
I blink, stunned.
His throat bobs with a rough swallow. “Not my proudest moment.”
“Were you hurt?”
“Just my pride.” He folds an arm behind his head. “I didn’t get off easy, if that’s what you were thinking. My father flipped out. Threatened to have my ass hauled off to juvie.” His sentence dwindles as a pensive look flits across his profile. “He wanted to lay down the law. It didn’t pan out the way he wanted it to, though.
“See, those two cars I hit were getting work done at this mechanic’s shop. The owner felt bad for me and offered to let me work there to pay off all the damages I’d done.”
Bitterness creeps into his tone. I reach over and squeeze his knee.
“Was the guy a jerk to you?”
“Who, Sal? Nah. Sal and his wife… they’re good people. They moved to Texas shortly after I graduated high school, but they were good people.”
The fondness in his voice brings a smile to my face before I register his words. “Were?”
“Sal passed away last year, and his wife died a few months ago.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “Um… I’m glad they were nice to you.”
“Yeah.” He falls silent. “Doesn’t mean Sal didn’t get on my ass, because that man did. We could never go more than a week without him calling me out on something.” He chuckles wryly. “I don’t think I’d be here if it weren’t for him.”
“You’d… be in jail?”
“Nah. Probably dead, if anything.”
My heart squeezes painfully as a wave of distress takes root in me. Before I can say anything else, he clears his throat.
“All right.” His eyes flicker toward me. “We’ve had enough touchy-feelies for today. How about I get some touchy-feely action in return?” With a plastered grin, he brazenly drops his line of sight to my breasts and lets out a low whistle.
“You are so romantic,” I state dryly.
“That’s not a no.”
“ No ,” is my resounding response, and he snickers.
“Damn. And here I was,” he drawls, “bleeding my heart out for you, Reese’s Pieces.” He hits me with a somber stare. “Should I sprinkle in some praises for you?—”
“ You said reversing is fun, right ?” I reach for the keys left in the ignition and ignore his smoldering gaze. “Let’s see how fun it can be.”