Chapter 13 Lewis
I’ve been out here in the motel parking lot gazing lovingly at my car for five minutes now, checking it out from every angle, making sure that psycho Tyler hasn’t messed it up.
There’s not a single scratch in the red paintwork, and I’m so happy I could drop to my knees and cover it with kisses.
It’s a little dirty on the inside, sure—but I’ve seriously lucked out.
The guy was a thief, but he was a clean one.
He still deserves to burn in hell, though.
“Keep staring at it like that, and it’ll catch fire.”
I turn to see Firebird strolling out of the motel, a sports bag slung over her shoulder.
She isn’t looking as badass as she was yesterday—today’s a dress-down day, apparently.
She still looks fire, though, especially now that I’ve felt her curves pressed into me, seen her stripped and bare beneath me.
Okay, so maybe the Dodge does have a little competition.
I didn’t overthink it. Getting it on with Amy was never part of the plan, but I was so on edge once we got to the motel—hearing the neighbor pounding on the wall like that kind of took all that pent-up energy I had and turned it into horniness.
I was this close to flinging the chips and vodka off the bed and pulling Amy onto my lap.
When the girl next door started screaming louder, I knew exactly what Amy was thinking, but then she just jumped up and scurried into the bathroom, and at that point I was thinking I would just go for a run and call it a night.
Until I ended up with her ass in my hands, that is.
Damn. If she’d given me the green light, I would’ve just bent her over the sink as soon as she slipped out of the shower.
The way her ass filled my hands like that…
The sex was insane. We were up most of the night, and even though I’m sleep-deprived, I’ve never felt better.
Today is going to be a good day.
“Here,” she says, throwing me a bottle. “Got us some water for the trip.”
It’s time for us to head back to Sycamore Heights, and if the roads are good, we should be back in time for practice this afternoon. Perfect. That means I only missed two sessions, which isn’t too bad, all things considered. It feels like we’ve been away for days.
“Amy… Thank you for everything. I mean it.”
She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “No worries.”
When people give, they usually expect something in return, but Amy isn’t like that—unless she’s just biding her time.
Maybe she’ll turn around one day and ask for help burying a body, or something, and considering the side of her I saw back there in Brooklyn, the truth is I wouldn’t be surprised.
I still have a whole bunch of questions about that, come to think of it—but it’s not the time.
For now, I’ve got my Dodge back, I’m taking it home, and that’s all that matters.
I walk over to Amy, my arms dangling by my sides. I don’t know what to do with myself.
Her brown eyes are sparkling.
“Be careful on the roads,” I warn.
She snickers. “You’re worried about me? You be careful, man. I’d hate for you to go through everything you did only to end up in some random crash. And you better not tank, after all the time I wasted on this—if you do, I’m coming for you.”
“You’ve got the sweetest way of saying things, you know that?”
“Just sticking to the facts.”
Speaking of facts…
I’m struggling for the words, here. I need to wrap up this weird-as-hell romantic getaway, while being a gentleman about the whole thing.
It was insane and I loved every second of how her body felt against mine, but this isn’t going anywhere, and I need to make sure she gets that it was a one-off.
I don’t know her all that well, but I’m not too worried—Amy doesn’t strike me as the kind of girl who likes things getting too serious—but I still want us to have the conversation before we hit the road.
“Thanks for helping me blow off some steam, too.”
Urgh. That was rude…
My mind races as I try to figure out how to take that back.
If Carrie were here, she’d be kneeing me in the balls right now, and I sift through all the countless conversations I’ve heard her having with Don.
I could kick myself—I’m always bitching about being forced to listen to them working through their shit, and now that a few nuggets of advice would be a lifesaver, I’m drawing blanks.
“I mean, for last night. You know…”
This isn’t exactly my first time at the rodeo. I’ve had more morning-after-the-night-before chats than I’d care to count, and I’m usually pretty good at them. But for some reason, Amy makes me feel like a virgin—all tongue-tied and slow-brained.
Probably because I know she could do some serious damage to my face…
I try to get a read on her, but Firebird’s not giving anything away.
She stands there staring at me like I’m an alien.
I’m just trying to make sure we’re on the same page, that’s all.
Either she’s got an amazing poker face, or she doesn’t give a crap.
And having spent the past thirty-six hours with her, I’m guessing it’s the latter.
“I mean, I just—”
“Are you trying to tell me something?”
“See how my lips are moving, and sounds are coming out of my mouth?” I quip. “What I’m saying, is that you and me, we—”
“I don’t need a post-fuck pep talk, Conley. I get it.”
Ouch.
“Thought as much. But I want to be transparent, you know? No loose ends.”
There shouldn’t be anything awkward about this. So why are my hands flapping around like I’m a DJ missing his decks?
“We done here?” she drawls. “Because I’d like to get the hell out of this shithole and have a shower without some guy’s hand on my ass.”
And just like that, she whips around and makes a beeline for the Pontiac, firing up her engine and leaving me for dust. I burst out laughing. One thing’s for sure—with that mean streak of hers and the lack of social niceties, she’s definitely the craziest lay I’ve ever had.
I ARRIVE IN SYCAMORE HEIGHTS exactly as planned, right on schedule.
Thinking I’d be good for practice might have been a little optimistic, though, because I’m exhausted by the time I stumble out of the car, plus there’s this low-level anxiety at the thought of leaving my Dodge unattended.
I catch myself glancing around shiftily, like I’m expecting some Brooklyn guy to jump me.
I remind myself that Amy warned them all off this town, though, and little by little, I feel myself starting to relax.
The parking lot has security, anyway—I need to move on and put the whole nightmare behind me.
I barely have time to open my locker when Donovan is there, thumping me on the back and crawling up my ass.
“Saw you pull up—dude, I am seriously relieved!”
I sent a voice note to the group chat to let the guys know I was heading home in my own car, but I didn’t tell them exactly what went down in New York. My plan is to spill this evening over pizza. Make a celebration out of it.
“I was thinking you’d be too beat for practice.”
I peel off my sweater. “When have I ever slacked when it comes to basketball?”
“Never.” He laughs, rubbing my shoulder, and I jerk back, eyeing him warily.
“Why are you groping me, man? Gimme some space, here.” I whip him with my basketball shorts.
“I was worried about you, that’s all.” He leans in to try to pinch my cheek affectionately. “It’s like you’re my soldier son, back from a war.”
“You know, if you’d said that on Thursday before I hit the road, I probably would’ve laughed in your face,” I say. “But that’s exactly what it felt like. I saw things, Wolinski…” My voice quivers. “The stuff of nightmares. Things no man can ever forget.”
And I’m not just talking about Amy’s tits.
When Coach’s voice comes booming down the hallway, Donovan pulls a face, and I grin back at him.
I’m leaving him on a cliff-hanger, and I’m getting a kick out of it.
I tug on my jersey, pull on my sneakers, and trot over to the court, feeling my mind empty of any thoughts as I shift into the zone, the ball I catch in midair acting like a reset.
This is how it always goes, and this afternoon is no different.
I think that’s why I love basketball so much, and why nothing—other than the Dodge, that is—matters so much to me.
“Wow, you’re smashing it today!” Don flashes me a thumbs-up.
“I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
“You move better out there when you’re relaxed.”
I nod. “Yup. That’s what your dad’s been telling me since the day I first signed up. I’m working on it—one of my goals for the year.”
“Seems like it’s paying off for you. What’s your secret?”
Oh, just a little drag racing with Amy Hitman.
“One Tree Hill.”
“Hook me up next time. Could be just what I need to psych myself up for the draft.”
IT’S DARK BY THE TIME I get home, and I’m feeling amazing, what with Coach’s hard-core drills and a quick workout at the gym.
Pushing open the front door, I spot Lane and Adam slumped on the couch, Donovan and his owner drifting out of the kitchen, discussing some book that Carrie’s holding—or wielding, more like.
She looks like she’s about to whoop his ass with it.
They glance over at me, and Carrie gives me a quick wave. We’re making progress…
“Where’s my homecoming kiss, Wolinski?”
She shoots me a withering look. Baby steps!
“Okay, I’m gonna leave you ladies to it,” she snorts, smirking at Don before disappearing into his room.
“She is such a pain in the ass. I was actually winning, back there.”
“Nope.” I hold up a hand. “I don’t wanna hear it. It takes me hours to unclench after I’ve heard you guys fighting.”
“Yeah, and anyway—all we care about is what went down in New York,” adds Lane.
“Get the man a beer, Don.” Adam rubs his hands together. “Pull up a chair, buddy. I ordered the pizza already. Got your favorite.”
I take my time staring back and forth between them, blinking slowly.
Somebody pinch me!