Chapter 14
GRAYSON
This girl. I want to hate her. I have at times. This, however, is not one of those occasions.
She’s still wearing my hoodie, chewing on her bottom lip, looking nervous and tiny in the driver’s seat of my car. I’m rarely in the passenger side, and yet, here I sit, watching her out of the corner of my eye. All because I had a few beers.
After she puts her hair up in a ponytail, she asks if it’s okay to adjust the seat and mirrors and does so once I tell she can get as comfortable as she wants. She either misses the double entendres or she acts like she does. I’m guessing the latter. Finally, she turns to look at me.
“Ready?”
I grunt, annoyed. The unexpected thing is I’m not as pissed as I ought to be.
“Seatbelt.”
“For fuck’s sake, Alvarez.”
“The faster you do it, the faster we can get a move on, Rhodes.”
“Fuck this,” I grumble. “Where’s Trevor? He can drive me.”
“Too late.” Her smile starts small and shy, but soon grows wide and triumphant. “They just drove off the parking lot.”
It was Trevor’s turn to be the designated driver.
I rarely drink during the season, so they don’t usually have to worry about me.
Besides, the teammates I consider friends all know I get car sick if I’m not the one driving.
Thus the reason Trevor offered to switch with her—he would take his time and drive “like his Gran Gran”, his words—but my dumbass said it was fine.
Wrong call.
Glaring at her, I yank the seatbelt across my chest. She’s smiling at me the whole time with a delighted expression that’s getting on my nerves.
Once she’s satisfied that I’m secure in my seat, she faces the steering wheel. Now it’s my turn to smile.
Not everyone can drive my car. It’s a Ford Mustang. Matte black. Stick shift. It’s one of my favorite vehicles and the only one I use at Tower Lake.
Since most people don’t bother learning to drive cars with a manual transmission, I wait for her to realize that’s what she signed up for. I am fully prepared to tease her mercilessly until she blushes that pretty pink shade again, but I don’t get the opportunity.
She holds the clutch and sets the car to neutral, then turns the key in the ignition and we’re moving. The fuck?
“Who taught you how to drive stick?” I demand. An inane surge of adrenaline floods my veins as I’m left wondering what boyfriend showed her.
“Papá taught me,” she replies, pulling out of the parking lot. “He says everyone should be able to change a tire and drive stick shift because uno nunca sabe. You never know.”
“Smart man.”
“He is,” she nods, but the brightness in her smile dims. For a moment I consider what might’ve caused the change, but don’t ask. The less I know of her, the better.
“Mind if I turn on the radio?”
I don’t know why I asked that since we’re in my car. Perhaps because I’m starting to feel dizzy.
Nirvana’s Come As You Are plays.
“I love this song,” she says, humming along.
Ignoring her, I open the window.
“Hey, Rhodes, you okay?”
The sound of her voice is a nice distraction in a weird comforting sort of way. I hate that I like it.
“I’m fine. How old were you?”
“How old am I? Twenty-one.”
“No, when you learned to drive,” I say. Nausea is setting in and my stomach rumbles with revulsion. I might need to grab a bite to eat soon to help settle the increasing discomfort.
“I was sixteen. How old were you when you learned?”
“Make a right.”
“What?”
“Leo’s Burgers is up ahead,” I grumble.
“Are you hungry?” she frowns. “I don’t have my wallet on me. Do you have yours?”
Goddamn this girl and her questions.
She’s about to pull up to the drive-thru, but I instruct her to park. Before the engine’s off, I’m already outside.
With both feet on solid ground, relief washes over me. As I inhale the cold night air, filling my lungs to capacity, the dizziness begins to subside.
She’s next to me in the blink of an eye, which only manages to irritate me more. I’d prefer if she’d stay away or remained inside the car. I don’t need or want her concern.
As I glance around, it’s only then I realize the parking lot is full of both cars and students. None are subtle when they look our way.
Shit. I didn’t think this through.
“You look a little pale,” she whispers, which doesn’t help anyone or anything. But at least she has the sense to keep her voice down.
My legs are unsteady as I walk toward the order window. I notice she’s not following me. When I look back she’s texting. The fact she’s probably texting Lucas infuriates me more than I’d like to admit.
“You coming, Alvarez?”
She looks up, her green eyes softening, and my throat constricts.
“Oh, uh, I’m not hungry, but thanks.”
Now that I’m not stuck in the passenger seat anymore, my head’s clear and I feel more like myself.
“You’d rather text?”
I don’t know why I asked that. She rolls her eyes in irritation.
“Yes,” she sighs. “If you must know, I was letting my roommate know where I am.”
Because she doesn’t trust you.
“Take my car,” I reply, my tone dismissive. “I’ll order a ride.”
What the fuck is wrong with me? I don’t let just anyone borrow my car.
She pockets her phone as she closes the distance between us. My heart rate picks up. Only because I’m still feeling car sick, nothing more. Definitely not because of her.
“Now who’s being dramatic?” she grins, voice teasing and cocky. It’s a good look on her.
But I won’t be outdone. I give her my most self-assured smirk. “Definitely not me.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” she smiles, walking backwards towards Leo’s Burgers. “And although I appreciate the offer, I’m not hungry. And if I was hungry, I can buy my own food, thanks.”
“Never said you couldn’t.” I lengthen my stride to catch up until we fall in step together.
The line for the outside order window doubled in the time it took us to get here. I motion towards the door.
“Let’s eat inside,” I suggest. Because I need to sit down and no one eats in my car.