Page 50 of Eighteen (18)

I sigh as I press my cheek against his jacket, taking in the scent of him, and wrap my arms around his waist. He places a hand on mine for a second, and then we move forward and leave the school behind.

He doesn’t take me home. He pulls into his driveway and I sit on the back of the bike as we wait for the garage to open. He pulls in, turns the bike off, and kicks down the stand.

There are at least half a dozen cars in his giant garage. All classics. An old Mustang, a classic Camaro, a GTO, and some more I can’t easily identify, plus parts. The place is spilling over with cars and it’s a lot bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside. I get a sense that there is a lot more to Mateo Alesci than meets the eye. I don’t know him any more than he knows me.

I take my helmet off and swing my leg over the bike. He does the same.

And we look at each other.

“You wanna go to the beach with me tomorrow night?” he asks.

I nod and place the helmet on his seat.

“Pick you up in front of your house at seven.”

He walks away and goes inside his house.

I’m barely aware of the traffic on Broadway as I cross the street, walk through the gate of the apartments that are not mine, enter the alley on the other side, and make my way to my patio. I have to lean against the brick wall next to my window and take a few deep breaths.

I don’t know anything right now. I’m blown. I go inside and I don’t even hear Jason’s snide remarks as he gathers his keys and walks out, leaving me with a sleeping Olivia.

I am blown.

Chapter Twenty

I have been babysitting on Saturdays ever since Jill died. Jason always works breakfast and lunch on the weekends and he leaves early in the morning. But Olivia woke up around three AM and didn’t stop crying. When I went into Jason’s room to see what the problem was, he wasn’t there. He never came home. Asshole. I’m so fucking pissed about that. Responsible people don’t stay out all night when they have a baby at home.

And she’s been cranky all day too. I’m just starting to wonder if I should take her temperature and see if she’s sick or something when at ten minutes to seven, Jason walks in looking like total shit.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“Working,” he sneers, walking into the kitchen. “Foreign concept, I know.” He starts making Olivia a bottle.

“She already has a bottle, Jason. She might be sick.”

“You just make it wrong.”

“OK,” I say, grabbing my purse. “I’m out of here.” I go out the back way, like normal—I don’t like the thought of Jason watching me out the front window as I wait for Mateo. It creeps me out far more than anything that’s happened between me and my teacher. I walk back up the alley to the laundry building and slip through the passageway that leads back to the front.

“Hey, Shannon,” a woman says off to my left.

Shit, that cop chick. I nod and keep walking.

“How’s your niece?’”

“What?” I ask, stopping to turn.

“The baby. I heard her crying today. Is everything OK?”

“Oh, yeah,” I say, letting out a sigh. “She was fussy all day. But Jason’s home now, he’ll get her to sleep. He’s good at it.” He is too. I have to reluctantly admit that.

“Good to hear,” she says. “See you around. Don’t get in any trouble tonight.”

“Right,” I say, just as Mateo’s car pulls up on the far side of the quad. It’s the red Camaro I saw in the garage and it’s rumbling like a monster. He gets out and walks around to the passenger side, opening my door for me. I take him in, I can’t help it. He’s wearing a black t-shirt, leather jacket, jeans and boots. Same old, same old. But for some reason, he looks different.

“Subtle,” I say, motioning to the loud-as-fuck car and slipping into the seat. I catch a smile as he closes the door and watch him under the streetlights as he walks around to his side and gets back in.

“Did you eat?” he asks.