Chapter 27 Carrie
I should be putting the finishing touches on my marketing plan, but when Donovan suggested I do a few rides with him this afternoon, I was too curious to say no.
I’m snuggled in the passenger seat with a book balanced in my lap, as a Wolinski classic blares in the background. The whole scene is surreal, but I’ve been learning to still my inner critic recently.
We’ve made two trips, and as we set off to pick up a third, I have to admit that this side hustle is kinda cool.
“How can you even read while we’re driving? You’re making me feel carsick, just looking at you.”
“Stop looking at me, then. This is the third time you’ve distracted me—if it happens again, I’m putting my dirty sneakers on your nice shiny dashboard.”
“Don’t even think about it,” he warns. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a shit shotgun?”
“Not true!” I protest. “I haven’t even hit you once since this morning.”
“You stamped on my foot when you got in. And you did it on purpose,” he adds.
“But who could resist this smile?”
I lift my book away from my face and flash him a grin.
As the light turns red, he leans over and gives me a quick kiss.
It catches me off guard, but what surprises me even more is how I lean in and kiss him back, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
It feels good. And that’s all that matters.
My tongue teases his as his hand slides down my neck, until somebody honks at us and he hits the gas, laughing. I flip my book back open, resigning myself to starting the chapter all over again.
He swipes at his screen and pulls over for his next passenger. A few seconds later, the door swings open. A girl is standing there staring at me, and she’s not a happy bunny. A classic fangirl—she’s practically oozing pheromones, the air thick with lust.
“You getting out, or what?”
Translation: “Get the fuck away from my Donny.”
“I’m good,” I say. “But you can sit in my lap, if you want.”
She glares at me.
She clearly had an ulterior motive for this ride—she’s hating every second of me sitting here. Right back at you, sister. She leans forward to look Don in the eye, sending all the signals—it’s so obvious, it hurts. Maybe I should hurt her.
“Meet Carrie—my bodyguard,” he says. “Get in the back.”
“Amazing service.”
As she slams my door shut, I glance over at Don.
“You get that I’m bad for business, right?”
“Don’t you dare get out.”
The girl slides into the back seat and clears her throat. I try the handle, but Don has locked the doors. I can feel her eyes burning into the back of my skull, and I cringe.
Donovan smiles at her in the rearview mirror. “What do you want to listen to?”
“Anything but this. It’s lame—no offense, Carrie.”
How dumb can you get? She thinks I chose the music, when this is her crush’s playlist. I stifle a laugh. Game over, bitch! I really want to sneak a look at him. I suddenly feel on top of the world, but I decide to play it low-key. I flick the stereo to another station.
“How are classes, Lydia?”
“Not too bad,” she calls out over the music. “I’ve got a lead for an internship in LA. I need to ace my exams if I’m going to make it work.”
“LA is the best.”
“I’m obsessed with it!” She leans in. “Don’t they have an amazing basketball team there?”
Oh, just a little team called the Lakers…
Don nods. “Damn straight.”
“Well, if you end up getting signed by them, we could hang out.” She twirls a strand of hair around her finger.
“Is your seat belt fastened, Lydia?” I ask.
“Yeah. Why?” She sounds confused.
“No reason.”
That’s too bad.
“Carrie is super caring,” Don says quickly. “She’s all about safety first.”
I glance at him. If I didn’t know him so well, I’d think he was being genuine. These days, I have no problem reading him, though.
“Where’s he dropping you off?” Lydia asks.
“Good question.” I turn in my seat. “Where are you dropping me off, Don?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Lydia gasps. “Are you guys dating?”
It’s a simple question, but warning bells are ringing hard. Get me out of here.
“Like he said—I’m his bodyguard.”
I keep my eyes riveted on the license plate in front of us. Anything to avoid Don’s gaze.
It’s been almost a week since his birthday, and we’ve spent every waking moment together—every sleeping moment, too. That doesn’t mean we’re dating, though.
I turn back to my chapter and keep quiet for the rest of the trip, flinching every now and then at the strident giggles coming from behind me, rolling my eyes hard when Don jumps out of the car and walks around to open the door for Lydia once we arrive.
I eye the key in the ignition. Maybe I should steal his car, after all.
It’s just his job, Carrie—he’s just doing his job. Breathe…
He slides back into the driver’s seat and warms his hands against the vents.
“She wanted to screw you senseless,” I say matter-of-factly.
“Who can blame her?”
“I don’t know what she’s been picturing, but maybe somebody should tell her there’s not all that much to see under those clothes…”
“Uh-huh.”
Gently, he pinches my cheek and leans in closer.
“You know that whenever I strip your eyes get all huge and shiny?”
“Oh, please!”
“You basically tear up with happiness!”
I cover his smug smile with my hand. “Your phone’s ringing—again. Don’t people walk anymore?”
“They all want that Campus Driver special sauce.”
“It’s bad for the planet—people should get off their asses and cycle more.” A thought stirs. “By the way, any idea what happened to my bike? I left it outside my dorm, like I usually do. And it’s gone.”
“Want me to go hunting for it?”
My eyes slide over to him. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got something to do with this.”
I stretch my arms, stifling a yawn.
“Wanna take a break? Lewis is free,” he adds. “I can hand the next ride over to him.” He jerks his chin down the street. “We’re right near that coffee shop where we had our first class. Remember? Or we could head to mine and get serious.”
“Ever had sex in your car?”
He frowns at me. “I can’t decide whether this is a trick question.”
“Affirmative.”
He laughs. “In that case, the answer is no. This baby is my safe space—plus, I like to keep my seats clean.”
“That’s a shame,” I pout. “I was thinking we find a dark alley, or something. I’ve always wanted to get laid with a steering wheel digging into my ass.”
What I don’t tell him is that car sex scenes in books definitely do something for me—and Don is a Campus Driver, after all. Shouldn’t this be his bread and butter?
“No coffee break for you,” he says, without missing a beat.
He eases us back into the traffic, before suddenly hanging a left. We turn down a quiet side street. He switches off the engine, tilts his seat back, and pats his lap.
“Get on.”
“I was joking.”
“Too late.”
He beckons me over.
“What happened to your safe space?” I snort.
“The guys got me new leather for my birthday, remember?” He smirks. “I plan on getting it done before Christmas—so, now’s your chance.” He pats his lap again. “Get your sweet ass over here, Carrie.”
“What if we get arrested and—”
“It’s dark. And we know it’ll take me a minute to make you come.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “You sure know how to talk to a girl, don’t you? After everything I taught you…”
“You don’t think I make the perfect boyfriend?”
Something about his smile seems less playful than usual, and for a second, I hesitate.
“No comment.”
He leans his seat all the way back. “Saddle up, cowgirl. Time is money.”
“ ‘Cowgirl’?”
He shrugs. “I know you’re kinky.”
I roll my eyes at him—but the truth is, I’ve wanted him more and more since his birthday party. It’s like I can’t ever get enough of him and I can see in his eyes he wants me just as bad. Slowly, I unclip my seatbelt, and scoot over.
As soon as I climb onto his lap, I feel his hands cupping my ass and his tongue searching for mine.
He kisses me hungrily, the way he always does.
I barely recognize myself with how starved I am—like I’m seeing us from the outside.
Carrie Wolinski straddling Donovan Wolinski, pressing down on him hard, chasing the exact right amount of pressure.
My pants are in the way, but I’m definitely not having sex with him out here in the street, anyway.
“Stay over tonight?” he whispers, suckling on my bottom lip. “We’ve got an away game this weekend, so I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“I’m working on my project until eleven—”
“I’ll come by and pick you up.”
I hear myself mutter an okay as butterflies flutter in the pit of my stomach.
Why did I spend so long fighting this? Seeing a guy, letting a guy come by to pick me up, spending a night with a guy, and doing it all over again the day after, and the day after that.
It feels good. It feels… Like little electric shocks, starbursting through my body every time he touches me.
I grip his shoulders while my mind floats up and away. I don’t even hear my phone ring until Donovan gives me a gentle nudge.
“Good thing for me you never pick up.”
The phone rings again. And again.
I glance back over at my seat. He’s right—I never do pick up, but when I catch sight of the name flashing up on my screen, I freeze. I lunge for the phone, kicking Don’s hands away as I scramble back into my seat.
“Hello?”
“So, you do sometimes pick up!”
I clamp a hand over Donovan’s lips, and strain to hear.
When I recognize Greyson’s voice on the end of the line, my blood turns to ice. There’s only one reason he could be calling—and that reason is Mom. I’ve been ignoring her calls, because I didn’t want to face reality. Now it looks like there’s no escaping it.
“What’s up, Grey?”
“You need to come home.” His voice sounds so small. “Your mom fucked up again.”
A few short, simple words, and my whole life pivots.
“What did she do this time?” I whisper.
“You need to come home, Carrie,” he repeats. “Don’t worry—everything’s going to be okay. But you need to get back here.”
“What did she do?”
“Started a fire, pretty much.”
I gasp. “What? Where?”