Chapter 22 #3
Quinntessa thankfully pulled away and focused on the clock on her dash. I followed the path of her fingers tangling in her hair, swallowing the dryness in my throat.
I watched her anxiously check the time on her phone twice. She turned back to me, hesitating to speak.
“Go ahead, Nerd.” I leaned down and bent to grab my backpack by the tire. “I got places to be anyway.”
I paused and stared down at the Mustang’s tire, where my satchel laid nicely against my bike helmet. My fingers looped around the straps, standing up and looking toward my bike. Hadn’t I left my helmet over on my motorcycle’s handles?
Shaking my thoughts away, I blamed my mistake on how frazzled I was and continued ducking my head under the strap of my bag.
“Don’t break your pristine routine just because I’m forcing your grumpy self to converse with me in the mornings.”
“I don’t have a routine.” She rolled her eyes.
I bit back a smile and slipped a box of cigarettes from my jacket pocket. The wrapping crumbled away in the palm of my hand as I skillfully opened it and shoved the packaging into my pocket for later.
My eyes fluttered to Quinntessa when I felt her eyes observing me.
I lifted the cigarette to my lips after lighting and inhaled deeply, stepping closer and resting the burning stick on the top of her car.
Each time I exhaled, I blew it above her hood, not wanting to gas the poor girl and her nice leather.
“Why do you do that?” I heard her ask. “You flip it every time it’s an unopened box.”
I hadn’t even noticed I had done it. It was a natural movement by now. I exhaled and ignored the burning high in my fragile lungs.
“Oh, you noticed the lucky one?” I smirked, flashing the box back at her before shoving it in my pocket. “It’s a tradition. Started for soldiers or something.”
“Really?” She tilted her head to the left, leaving me to wonder if my chest was sobbing from cancerous smoke or infectious puppy dog eyes. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“Yup. Ask your dad,” I hummed.
“Soldiers did that in the army?” Quinntessa paused, her words cutting short in a quick stop.
I spoke too fast. My head hung slightly as I avoided her eyes, taking another careful drag. Black smoke filled my lungs, pushing out seconds later.
“Wait…” Our eyes met for a second until I looked away. “I didn’t tell you my dad was ex-military.”
“No. You didn’t.” I played with the pack of cigarettes and smacked it against my thigh to buy me time. After I stuffed it into my opposite pocket, I gave her only enough of my attention to seem interested in the conversation. “Erica did.”
“Oh . . . ”
I flicked my lighter and watched the small flame sizzle out with each repetition. Yankee Doodle Doo processed my answer, her eyes staring into my side.
Erica wouldn’t tell me shit about this girl.
She was dead set on me keeping my promise to leave her alone, and I was doing my absolute best to keep my hand out of her pants.
I was a dick, a lesbian dick who slept with girls to have fun and avoid feelings, and Erica wanted to protect her new little friend for reasons I didn’t understand.
But I had a deal with my father. I loved Erica and respected her wishes, at least enough not to do this in front of her when I could. Now wasn’t one of those times. I could feel Erica’s eyes on me the entire time Quinntessa and I spoke.
“That stuff’s bad for you.” Mustang tucked a curly strand of dark hair behind her ear.
I exhaled over the top of her car before hanging my head down to peer into her window. She swallowed and watched me closely as I smirked down at her.
My fingers reached out to touch her soft cheek but pulled back and tapped the blue door instead. I shouldn’t push. She was hot and adorable and all that gay shit, but I had a job to do.
“I’ll see you around, Mustang,” I told her and stepped back from her car.
Before I could get too far from my bike, I heard Quinntessa call after me.
“Don’t die from those cancer sticks!” she teased.
I turned around and laughed at her concerns. She blushed, making me smile broad enough to nail a perfect wink in her direction. When I turned back around, I took quick notice of Erica pacing in front of her car without Olivia.
She shifted a short glare on me as I approached. For a moment, I thought her hands were itching to fly toward my face in her typical done with my shit motion. Instead, Erica closed the distance and stole my cigarette.
Erica took a long drag before returning it to my lips. She wrapped her arms around my waist and leaned into my chest, exhaling against my jacket.
“You good?” I flicked my cigarette away and returned her hug. It wasn’t every day Erica wanted to hug me in front of others. Most of the time, she didn’t even in private.
Erica sniffled. She clutched my jacket and hid her face in my chest. I felt her lungs sputter before she sniffled again, an uneven breath escaping her.
“Is it Ollie?” I whispered in her ear, rubbing her back.
Erica shook her head. I wanted to believe her, but the tears against my neck told me otherwise.