I glance at Beck. She’s not making a lot of sense, but she doesn’t appear to be freaking out either. “Girly, where are your friends?”
She wrinkles her nose at the nickname. “Girly?” She leans closer to me, and I glance at the clouds. We do not have time for this. “Oh no. They said I have an old-person personality at the party. Did I get ditched?”
Party.Well, I guess she wasn’t abducted.
“They did leave you in a trunk,” Beck says dryly. “Maybe you want to be ditched by that group.”
She struggles to climb out, the abrasive wind slamming past us as she moves. I barely notice the rain at this point, but she shudders as it hits her. Even gripping her arm she’s thrown to the side with the rising wind, struggling between the two of us. I shoot Beck a look over her head, and he shakes his. He’s not interested in getting tangled into this mess. Finding a random girl left in the trunk on the side of the highway is not part of the plan.
Stepping back, I take a good look at her in the headlights. Her hair really is black, not just hidden in the shadows. There’s still a flush to her skin, and those blue eyes are unfocused. Her eyes are slightly narrowed at the corners when I get a good look at her inthe headlights. If I had to guess, I’d say this confused beauty has Asian roots somewhere.
She’s not exactly dressed for a party, more casual and comfortable in her outfit as she shrugs off my hand and clutches her crossbody bag. One hand moves to her stomach, and her face takes on a slight greenish tint. If she’s been drinking, I’ve got to admit I’m surprised she hasn’t already gotten sick while bouncing around in the truck.
“Why were you in the trunk?” I ask for clarity, pinching my brows together. She won’t look up, biting her lip as she peers off towards the house.
“I just… wanted to hang out with the cool kids.”
Beck shoots me another look. College kids are the worst. I clear my throat before replying. “Sorry, girly, looks like they suck. Why would you want to hang out with people who leave you in the trunk anyway?”
“They said there weren’t enough seats,” she replies dully, and I search for signs she might cry. I can smell the liquor on her breath, but she doesn’t look weepy. “I… went with it.”
“You should go inside with your friends,” Beck counters, and she turns those pretty blue eyes to look between us. She hiccups, shifting to sit back on the bumper of the car as the rain picks up. We need to get back in the truck.
Someone’s voice carries over the wind, and I can hear Dex. I’m not surprised someone came to check on us. “Hey! What are you two doing?”
Beck groans and steps away, and I can’t wait to hear what he decides to tell the three of them. I stay where I am, eyeing thisgirl, trying to decide what to do with her. I don’t know if her stomach will handle riding along with us and I don’t know if I want the responsibility of another person.
She nibbles her lip as she holds up a hand to block the rain. We need to get Drunk Girl on her way before we have problems, and I’m dividing my attention between her and the sky. “They aren’t really friends. My friends… of mine.”
Excellent, she’s stumbling over her words.
Beck calls back to me, and I peer over my shoulder. “We have to go!”
I glance up, eyeing the clouds. We’re going to miss it if we stay here any longer, but we’re at least out of the danger zone in this area. She’s still waffling with her words when I look back, her fingers fiddling with her bag’s strap as she keeps her eyes downcast. “Listen girly, you can go inside with the not-really friends, or get your ass up and in our truck. Or can you drive this car back?”
“Na,” she says, waving her arms around. It throws her off balance, and I doubt it’s the wind. “I can’t drive in this weather. Makes me all nervous.”
Great. I reach out and steady her, and she just keeps leaning in. If she’s not going to pick, I guess I’ll pick for her. Leaving her out here before a storm when it doesn’t look like anyone in the house is worried about her unsettles me. I lean in and grip beneath her knees and behind her back, lifting her with ease when she stumbles again. “I don’t hear anoon those lips, girly. Wanna come with us?”
She lulls her head against my shoulder, peering back to the house the group ran into. It would be easier to drop her off overthere. She can’t be inthatmuch danger if the storm is forming further away. “Where are we going?”
I glance at Beck, who throws his hands up and jogs back to the trunk away from Dexter. We’re seriously behind schedule now. Since girly isn’t shooing us off, and we need to get moving, I start following him. “We’re going after the storm.”
3 Hayden
Everyone is quiet as we load into the truck. The guy that carried me in here, his thick arms corded in muscles, has all of my attention. He has dark facial hair that I rub my cheek against like a cat on the way to the truck, and I don’t care if he’s judging me. It feels good, okay? He’s sort of dressed like me in a t-shirt and jeans, but that’s all I can focus on before we reach the truck.
The door lifts, which is sign one that I’ve found another Richie Rich to ride along with. At least Muscles seems nicer than the party crew that left me behind. My shivers dissipate when he sets me in the car, the interior warmer than the wind and rain. Mr. Muscles buckles me into the backseat.
At first, I want to argue that I can take care of myself. But this thing has special harness-style seat belts so in my current state, I doubt I could have handled it. Plus at least I get a little fondling while he straps me in. The other guy chucks a bottle of water my way from the front seat, which I miss. I think someone else is yelling, although that might be the headache that’s forming behind my eyes.
I’m pretty sure I should ask who the hell these men are, and why Muscles gets to look so fucking good while seemingly on the brink of annoyance. I’m getting into a truck, willingly, with two total strangers. It’s a little bit better than being pushed into a trunk, but even as I break the seal and sip the water, my mind is trying to catch up with my bad decisions.
Then Muscles puts the truck in gear and we tear down the highway. I’m pretty sure my soul leaves my body with the sudden speed.
“Making up for lost time?” the passenger asks Muscles, seemingly unbothered. I can’t tell if this is faster or slower than what Scott was doing, but it definitely feels like a straighter line than the path the car took.
“I’m not missing this,” Muscles barks back. My stomach is unhappy, but sitting vertical and strapped into the fancy harness seat is a major step up from the trunk of Scott’s car.
