Chapter 3
“It was only forty-five seconds,” David said. “Relax, Daredevil.”
He sipped on another whisky while I tried a bourbon, a la The Vampire Diaries… it didn’t taste as good as a vampire made it look.
“Don’t be such a bad sport.” I set my drink down, giving up on it. “Just admit you thought you were going to get me with that one.”
“I did get you.”
“How so?” I laughed and pointed back at the mechanical bull. “I not only got on that thing for the first time, but stayed on for nearly a minute. Come on, even you have to admit that’s impressive.”
David snorted before finishing his drink. He had that look he usually got when he used to get up and leave a conversation at a moment’s notice. I used to play a game with myself: how long could I make David Evans remain interested? I consistently beat everyone I knew.
“What’s more impressive was your face,” he said.
When I frowned, confused, he pulled out his phone and opened his camera roll. My ears burned, and my stomach dropped when he clicked play on his newest video.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I reached for the phone only to stumble when he held it out of reach. “Why did you record that?”
He chuckled at my high-pitched panic voice. “Thought it might come in handy one day.”
“Delete it,” I ordered.
From the few seconds of the video I saw, my appearance was much more disheveled than I initially thought.
Oil from my twists had dripped onto my shirt, leaving massive yellow stains.
Smudges of mascara on my eyelids highlighted the terror in my eyes.
I looked like I was a raccoon on the run from an angry mob of homeowners who were tired of me digging through their trash.
“I don’t think so.” David locked his phone and slid it into his back pocket. I scowled at the unreachable, off-limits position. Even if I were brave enough to touch this guy’s ass, I still wouldn’t know how to unlock the phone.
“I will end you,” I threatened with a narrowed gaze. I tried to stand taller so that at least the top of my head met his chin.
“You’ve been saying that for years now.” His brown eyes danced. “Love to see you try.”
He ate up my fury. Practically lived off my disapproval.
“Screw you,” I grumbled and grabbed my drink. I finished it in two big gulps. It burned my throat and left my taste buds in agony. David chuckled when I coughed and waved the bartender down for a glass of water.
“I see why you don’t drink,” David noted as I fanned myself in an admittedly dramatic manner.
As soon as the bartender set down the water, I nearly drowned myself.
Some of it dripped down the corners of my mouth.
I suppose I’d given up all attempts at grace and poise tonight. My mother would be so proud.
“After spending so much time in your presence, I’m thinking it’s a necessity.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “See why you do it so much. It’s a shame you can’t take a break from yourself.”
Instead of throwing a jab back, David said, “Put your shoes on. I’m ready to go. I’ll take you back to campus.”
He nudged over the boots he’d been guarding for me. My shoulders sagged when I thought about slipping back into the damp leather. He noticed my reluctance but figured it was for the wrong reason.
“You prefer ordering a rideshare?” he asked. “Because I don’t care either way. I just thought I’d offer.”
“No, no rideshare,” I said quickly. “You’re the lesser of two evils.”
“Lucky me,” he said in a dry tone. “So, let’s get a move on.”
When I didn’t move, he added, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I reached for my uncomfortable boots. “I just hate wet socks in wet shoes.”
Before I could pick them up, David beat me to the punch.
My brows furrowed as he grabbed a handful of napkins and stuffed them into the boot.
He pulled out the napkins after a few seconds and then stuffed them in the other shoe.
David repeated the process three more times before unlacing the boots and laying them before me.
He said nothing as he pushed away from the bar and started toward the exit. I hurried, not even having time to tie the laces as I tried to catch up properly. When he noticed I was lagging, he slowed down, and once we reached the doors, he motioned for me to sit on a stool.
“What are you…?” I asked, trailing off when he kneeled to tie my shoes. He pulled the laces tight, knotting them firm enough so they wouldn’t come undone easily.
Was he being… considerate? I hesitated to call it anything positive because David always thought three steps ahead. He’d helped me with my shoes for a reason. And that reason might be something I didn’t figure out until a few weeks from now.
No, I decided. What he did hadn’t been considerate. It’d been the groundwork for a long game. And I’d be ready for whatever he had in store.
The rain drizzled when we stepped out of the bar. The wind had picked up a bit. A chill seeped through my shirt, raising goosebumps on my skin. I hugged myself while shifting my weight from one foot to the other. David paused on the sidewalk, looking toward the parking lot.
“What’s the hold-up?” I asked after a beat. “Go get your car.”
He looked at me, confusion making his brow knit. “You’re not coming?”
“I’m soaked from head to toe in wet shoes,” I said. “The least you could do is be a gentleman and bring the car up.”
David blinked, his confusion evolving into amusement. “You want me to be a gentleman?”
“It’s all I dream of,” I said deadpan. “Is that a foreign concept for you? Perhaps a new vocab word? I know how much you football players love skipping classes. I tutor for a small fee, you know?”
He laughed, his eyes wrinkled around the corners as he offered me a rare, genuine smile. I stopped shivering at the sight of it. He looked sweet, like someone I could curl up next to and receive soothing back rubs while they told me how much I meant to them.
“You’re so irritating,” David said, interrupting my fantasy as soon as I constructed it. He pulled out his car keys.
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” I said, and gestured him toward the parking lot like I was dismissing him from class. I watched him jog off into the darkness. As soon as I lost sight of him in the rows of cars, the rain picked up. The drops sounded louder on the concrete, almost like hail.
I waited on the sidewalk for what felt like ages. A few times, some people came out of the bar only to see the downpour and hurried back inside. When David’s car didn’t pull up for a while, I considered that he might have left me.
He’s not that rude, I told myself. But honestly, who was I kidding? David had disappeared on even his closest friends in their time of need. With that thought, I pulled out my phone.
Just as I was about to order a ride, David pulled up in front of me. I blew out a breath, thankful I wouldn’t have to pay for two rides tonight. Since my parents changed my weekly allowance to a monthly one, my cash flow has been on the lighter side.
“Took you long enough,” I grumbled as I slid into the passenger’s seat. A thick towel was draped across the seat, and the heat was on full blast.
David’s only response was a grunt. He waited for me to settle in before pulling away from the curb. I checked my email as he headed to the highway. He didn’t turn on the radio, so the silence between us felt like rising water.
Naturally, his car smelled of him. All spicy and cool with a hint of mint. He kept his dashboard spotless. The black would sparkle if the soft material reflected any light. He’d hung two of those tree-shaped car fresheners on the rearview mirror. His scent of choice was Summer Linen.
Other than the fresheners, there were no personal touches in David’s ride.
No leftover receipts in the cup holders or discarded sweatshirts in the backseat.
I was acutely aware of all the space. Absence told just as much of a story as clutter did.
But one had to look much more closely to figure out the details of the story.
I didn’t have the patience to look closer. I needed some other clues.
My gaze turned to his radio. I wondered if he had pre-tuned stations. Surely his taste in music would tell me more about him than his cleaning habits could.
“Don’t touch it,” he said in a firm voice when I reached for the volume knob.
I frowned, hand frozen in the air. “It’s quiet.”
“What’s wrong with the quiet?”
“It’s awkward.”
“Not to me.” He flicked on his signal before merging onto a ramp.
Before switching lanes, David checked his side mirror and then looked over his shoulder to be sure no one was in his blind spot.
I bit my tongue, trying not to cite how dangerous it was to glance over his shoulder.
Being a backseat driver was something I’d been actively working on since I got so many complaints about riding with Haven.
I could barely make out David’s expression in the night's darkness.
The streetlights cast a blue glow on us.
The color made him look like someone from a Van Gogh painting.
His wet hair, curlier than usual, stuck to his forehead.
He was all swirls, blurred edges, and muted colors.
I watched a raindrop slide down the bridge of his sharp nose.
As soon as he caught me staring, I whipped my gaze out the window.
“Very awkward,” I insisted in a mumble.
“That’s because you’re making it.”
“I’m not making this awkward. You’re not playing music. Most people play something in the car when they have company.”
“That’s because most people are like you, afraid of being uncomfortable for even a second.” He opened his console and pulled out a dry washcloth.
My brow raised when he offered it to me.
“Your hair’s dripping all over my seat. I just got it steam-washed a few days ago,” David said, nudging the cloth closer to me.
I took it and grabbed a handful of twists to dry. “It’s kind of your fault.”
“My fault?” He shook his head. “Oh, I’m going to love hearing the logic behind this one. What is it? Do I control the weather now?”
“Probably did some kind of blood sacrifice.” I used the remaining dry part of the towel to wipe my neck.
“You got me. The cat’s out of the bag now.”
I snorted. “Anyway, you can make it up to me.”
“Which is all I ever want to do in life.”
“My executive board and I need a ride to the beach this weekend.”
He started shaking his head before I even finished the sentence.
“I wouldn’t ask if I could get someone else,” I add quickly. “But Haven’s car broke down last week. It’s still in the shop.”
“I’m not taking you and your org on a joyride.”
“It’s not a joyride; it’s for our new headshots,” I defended. “And it won’t be the whole org. Just the four of us. Our secretary has a car but can’t take everyone without making multiple trips.”
“What happened to your car?”
“What car?”
His forehead wrinkled. “You don’t have a car? Doesn’t your family own like half of our town?”
“Just a couple of local businesses.” I waved my hand. “And that doesn’t equate to having a car…especially when I don’t have a license.”
“Huh?”
I made a face and repeated louder, “I don’t have a license.”
“You don’t have your license?” he asked in shock. “After we’ve moved hundreds of miles away from home to a large commuter school, you don’t have your license?”
“It’s on the to-do list.”
“My God, for how long?”
“Can we get back to the topic at hand?”
He laughed. “Sure. Lucky for you, I heard the school’s bus route takes you halfway there.”
I scowled. “I know that. But the other half is just highway. No bus stop for miles.”
David nudged his chin to my feet. “Better wear walking shoes next time.”
I pressed my molars together, leaning back in my seat as I brainstormed other options. If we all chipped in, we could rent a car for the day. But the under-25 insurance fee would be a nuisance.
As my mind buzzed, I latched onto something that made me slowly smile. David sensed my change of mood in a heartbeat.
“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath.
“I have your next dare,” I taunted with a grin and paused for dramatic effect.
David motioned for me to continue. “Go on then.”
“I dare you to be an honorable BWD member this weekend.”
He looked unimpressed. “That sounds impossible.”
I shook my head. “Not at all. Our group isn’t exclusive. We’re focused on the development of Black women on campus, but are welcoming to allies.”
David glanced at me. “Honorable member means…?”
“Help prep and attend any events. And what do you know, we have one this weekend!”
“Yay,” he mock-cheered. “Exactly how I wanted to spend my day off.”
I smiled. “This will be perfect. You’ll pick us up in the library parking lot at eight.”
“Nine,” he bartered. “There’s a team run at seven. I need time to shower.”
“Fine. Nine,” I agreed with a sigh and mentally recalculated the schedule. “I expect you to bring a great attitude. My members must meet a high standard. I’ll expect no different from you.”
“You realize you’ve just invited me on a day trip, right? The nearest beach is two hours away. And that’s without traffic.”
My forehead wrinkled. “Of course I know that…”
David smiled at me. Seeing the smug curl of his lips made me rethink what I’d gotten myself into.
“What are you… what’s the problem?” I asked, knowing he wouldn’t share but hoping there was some sense of kindness left in his cold, little heart.
“No problem. I’m just looking forward to spending some extra time with you,” he said. “Have you ever realized we only ever hang out at night?”
“I suppose. It’s the only time we’re free,” I said, trying to suss out where he was going with this.
David nodded, humming in agreement. “Guess you’re right. It’ll be nice to see you in daylight, though.”
“I don’t see how that’s going to change anything.”
“It does, Daredevil,” he said. “Trust me, it does.”