8. The Nag #2
I pull away. Fifteen? I look down at what I’m wearing—an old track shirt and yoga pants.
If I had worn make-up, or a tank top, or short shorts—something that showed off the figure I worked so hard for, maybe then he’d notice I wasn’t a kid anymore, but those kinds of clothes have never been my style.
I look sideways at Jacob. Do I want him to notice me that way? What did Jaz say about Army guys? They only want one thing. But Jacob isn’t like that, is he?
“You’re pretty good at that, at kickboxing,” Jacob glances down, “Those long legs. You can really kick high. Are you a cheerleader or something?”
I point to my shirt. “Track.”
“Maybe you should get a job with the Army. I bet it would be easier for the guys to get to PT if they knew someone like you was running it.”
I straighten my pants over my thighs. “I’m too young for that, too young for the Army, I mean, I still have a year of high school.
” Why did I say that? Great Jess, remind him you’re still a kid.
I want to sink into the seat of Jacob’s car and just disappear.
Or start this drive over with a different outfit and a shower.
He grins, “I was kidding. Actually, I think you should stay as far away from Army guys as possible.” I want to ask if that includes him, but I don’t dare. I don’t trust my tongue anymore.
I reach for the locket he gave me. It’s in my jeans in my gym bag. I’m suddenly grateful my yoga pants are pocketless. What would he say if he knew I still kept the locket with me all the time?
The conversation fades into the whine of his car, the song on the radio, and the sound of Jacob’s fingers tapping the steering wheel.
Neither of us breaks the silence until he pulls into my driveway. “I can’t stay long,” he says. “I have plans tonight.”
“Oh. Thanks for the ride,” I try not to sound disappointed. Plans. I wonder what her name is.
He looks at his watch. “I have a few minutes. I’d like to see that beast you call The Nag.”
“Sure.” I shove my door open and then realize he was moving to open it for me. He steps back as I climb out awkwardly. “Sorry. Um, it's over there.”
He gets my gym bag out of the trunk and then follows me around the side of the house where The Nag sleeps under a bed of pollen dust and pine needles. His eyes light up. He touches the side of my car, almost reverently. “Whoa, no Nag here. Sixty-eight Mustang coupe. This is an awesome car.”
“Yeah, I guess. When it runs,” I try to sound casual, but I like that he’s impressed.
When he pops the hood, a shower of pollen and pine needles slides off towards the windshield. “This hasn’t been driven for a long time.”
“Nope.” I shake my head.
“In my world, that’s a crime.” His eyes fairly glow as he looks around the engine, poking at wires and hoses for a few minutes, like he’s forgotten all about me. He slams the hood shut and leans back against the side of my car. “What are you doing a week from Saturday?”
I think my heart will stop. Is he asking me if I want to hang out with him?
“Nothing,” I stammer. What would Jaz do in this situation? Probably made something up so she wouldn’t sound desperate.
“No parties or dates or anything?” He grins like he’s teasing me.
I breathe in and bite my bottom lip. “Not yet.”
“I’m off so I can come take a better look, see if I can figure out what's wrong.” He raps his knuckles on the hood of the Nag.
“You really don’t have to,” I say, but I’m already counting the minutes until Saturday.
“No, it’s my pleasure. I’m kind of dying to get my hands on this beauty.
” The way he says it makes my face go hot.
He rubs the hood of my car and leaves a patch of white.
“It’s been a long time since I got to work on a sweet ride like this.
” He stands up and checks his watch again, reluctantly this time.
“I’d better get going.” He brushes his hand against my arm.
“It was good to see you, Jess. I guess I’ll be back next week. ”
“Sure. See ya.” I lean against the car and go to stick my hands in my pockets, before I remember I don’t have pockets. Instead, I cross my arms in front of my chest as he walks away and gets into his car. The place where he touched my arm tingles.
After he’s safely out of sight I run my fingers over the white space on The Nag’s hood where he rubbed it and the patch of white where he leaned against the side—physical signs that I’m not completely crazy, that Jacob still exists and that he’s back. And he’s interested...at least in my car.
He’ll be here next Saturday and I’ll… A thought hits me like a bucket of ice water. I’m getting my wisdom teeth pulled the day before.
It’s just a couple of teeth, right? Whatever it takes I will be fine by Saturday.
More than fine. I’ll have Jaz help me pick out something to wear, and I’ll let her highlight my hair.
She keeps bugging me to do that. I’ll look so good that it will make up for the way I looked today.
I’ll look so good that he’ll forget about any other “plans.”