Chapter 5 Shotgun!
Champ
She holds the Perfect Date card in both hands as we make our way back to the car. She reached for it after the photographer left, but she didn’t scan it though. She’s just been running her hand along the card.
“That was delicious!” She says finally, rubbing her stomach with one hand.
“I’m glad you liked it.” I walk close to her. My arm touching hers.
“Thank you.” She stops as we stand in front of my car. “You didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to even talk to me when I got in your car. I’m happy you did.”
I bump her gently with my shoulder. “You’re welcome. I can’t have you being upset in my car. It’s a happy place.”
She looks down at the card. “I’m happy now.”
“Good, let’s get you home.”
I move towards the backseat to open the door for her. She looks at me with a glint in her eyes, and opens the passenger seat. “Shotgun!”
The door closes behind her, and I stand there, staring at the space she just occupied and letting the moment wash over me. This isn’t a regular rideshare anymore.
I walk around the back of the car to get to the driver’s side, needing a moment to process what’s going on.
I like this girl.
In the car, I glance over at her, looking like she belongs right where she is: right next to me.
“Hey.”
She smiles at me. “Hey.”
Oh, the atmosphere has definitely shifted. I don’t know what to do now, so I drive.
“How long do you do this?”
“Like how many hours?” I look over at her.
“Yeah.”
“Depends on if the money is flowing or not. Or if someone pissed me off. If I get a jerk, I’m likely to go right on home afterwards.”
“Self-care.”
“That’s a nice way to put it.” I chuckle. “What do you do with your free time? You work set hours or freelance?”
“I work set hours. I do a lot of social media work for my company. I work from home, but I don’t blur those lines. I have a hard stop at 4 that I refuse to cross. I can be in the middle of drawing a line, and my alarm goes off, and I shut it down.”
I laugh. Strong boundaries, but she was real loose with her time for old dude.
“Don’t start.” She points at me, trying not to smile.
“I didn’t say anything.”
She squints. “I know enough about you to know that your laugh was about my date.”
I put a hand on my heart. “Lydea, I’ve let it go....way faster than you did.”
She swats at my shoulder and laughs. Her hand lingers on my bicep. I hold back the urge to flex it. Instead, I take my right hand off the steering wheel and rest it on the center console. I want to touch her, to put my hand on that smooth thigh.
Her hand slides up my arm and to the back of my neck. I ease to a stop at a red light and look over at her, trying to keep my breath steady. She runs her thumb along the nape of my neck. She’s lost in her thoughts. I grip the steering wheel and lean into her touch, craving more of her.
The light turns green, and I adjust my focus back to the road.
Tighten up, man.
I can’t end this ride until I get her home. I don’t know what’s happening here, but I can’t let it mess up my money.
Her hand stays on my neck; I want to close my eyes and enjoy the feel of her. But I can’t.
I glance at the map on my screen. We’re still 20 miles from her place. Traffic is picking up, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to sit this close to her for that long and keep my head straight.