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Nivea narrowed her eyes.
“You’re…”
“I think it’s time to go,” Carver announced. “I’m tired, still freakin’ hungry, and I have a TV dinner I could be eating. This has been fun and all, but if you don’t get in my car right now, you’re going to have to find your own way home.”
Nivea turned a snarling grimace toward Carver. “You’re going to wait like the good little boy you are.”
I wouldn’t laugh. I wouldn’t laugh.
I laughed.
***
Camryn patted my nose with the paper towel, her lips twitching the entire time.
“It was worth it,” I said assuredly. “God, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with those two, but I wish they’d forget me.”
“It’s going to be hard to forget you when you make them want to punch you in the face,” she pointed out. “You’re going to have a black eye in the morning.”
I shook my head. “The only reason he made my nose bleed when he punched me was because I wasn’t actually expecting him to grow a pair. I dodged enough that he only grazed the tip of my nose.” I paused. “My nose bleeds sometimes when I blow it too hard. This’ll go away.”
She rolled her eyes, and I grinned at her annoyance.
“It was worth it, though,” I muttered, tasting the blood that was running down the back of my throat. “Did you see the look on his face when he hit me?”
“He was waiting for you to break his face.” She grinned, her eyes huge and laughing.
“I know.” I grinned right back.
“Why didn’t you?” she wondered.
I shrugged. “Mainly because I could’ve really hurt him, and I’m fairly sure the Chief was watching the exchange from inside. He would’ve seen me do it and been pissed.”
She snorted. “How are you always thinking eight steps ahead?”
“It’s my job,” I informed her. “I’m supposed to be able to anticipate what could happen and prevent it.”
She pulled the paper towel away from my face and stared at my nose, waiting for more blood to come pouring out like it’d been doing for the last ten minutes.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go home?” she wondered.
I shook my head.
“No,” I answered. “Eat your food before it gets too cold.”
I’d driven her to the convenient store by the park and she’d run in for drinks and had come out with a handful of E-Z-Mart paper towels in one fist, and a bag containing drinks in the other.
Once she was back to my bike, she placed the drinks on the ground along with about three-quarters of the paper towels and then pressed the rest of the stack to my nose.
“We’re not going to the park?” she asked.
I gestured for her to pick up the bag of drinks and she did, holding them with one hand as she remounted the bike and situated herself behind me once more.
I closed my eyes as she wrapped one hand around my waist, loving the feeling of her pressed up against me.
“Jesus Christ, baby,” I muttered underneath my breath. “You undo me.”
She leaned forward until her head was pressed against my back and said, “What did you say? I didn’t hear you.”
“I said hold on,” I lied and then started the bike.
She did, squealing excitedly when I accelerated a little faster than was needed out of the parking lot.
We arrived at the park in less than ten seconds, and then I was parked underneath a tree near the back of the lot where no one was in sight.
“How did you know this was here?” she wondered, looking around. “I didn’t even realize there were parking spots back here.”
I dismounted the bike and then held my hand out for her.
She took my hand and held on tight as I guided her through the trees toward where I knew was a table that nobody knew about as well.
“Some of the kids from school told me this was the make-out spot,” I answered her. “Can you hold this for a second?”
She held out her hand for the bag of food I’d been holding since we’d left and waited while I swept off the acorns and leaves from the tabletop as well as the bench seats before setting the bags down.
I gestured for her to sit, and she did, straddling the bench while also digging into the boxes.
“I didn’t know that this was the make-out spot now,” she laughed. “I was under the impression that the make-out spot was over by the lookout point by the lake.”
I grunted. “That was the make-out spot until the new gang in town started using it to do initiations. Now it’s the ‘don’t go there unless you want your ass kicked’ spot.”
She winced. “The Blue Raiders?”
“The Blue Razors,” I corrected.
She gagged. “They’re a nuisance. I swear to God, they’re causing so much trouble at the school now. I didn’t think towns this size had problems with gangs.”
