Page 60 of Chasing Stardust

He shrugs and turns toward the Tesla, reaching the car in a few long strides, forcing me to jog to catch up. “I don’t want to sound like a dick, but you know how much this car is worth. I trust the autopilot more than I trust you.”

The brutal insult catches me off guard, and I flinch.

He unlocks the car and hands me Mom’s photo. “Get in.”

Stunned silent, I stare at him, unmoving and growing angrier by the second. What the hell just happened?

Dash leans out of the car, glaring at me from behind his stupid black-framed glasses. “Are you coming?”

A dozen snarky comebacks swim through my head, but none of them float to the surface. Every one of them makes me sound desperate and immature, so I swallow them down and climb in. And to think, I wanted to kiss this guy. Well, I won’t make that mistake again. Screw him and his sinfully beautiful face.

I stew in my seat, wondering how the hell I’d misread his signals.

Dash lets out a loud sigh. “Don’t be mad.”

“Oh, I’m not mad,” I snap, already plotting my revenge. “Why would I be mad? I’m just peachy. Didn’t really want to drive anyway. Looking forward to catching up on my sleep.” I grab my pillow from the back seat and punch it a few times.

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “You don’t sound mad at all.”

“Because I’m not.” I wedge the pillow between my head and my shoulder, then lean against the doorframe. “Now, would you please be quiet so I can fall asleep?”

“You got it.” Dash switches on the radio and lowers the volume to a low buzz.

“One day you’ll meet the perfect boy, Zoey, and you’ll fall in love.” Mom dries my tears, brushes my hair back from my face, and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “And you won’t even remember the boy who broke your heart in second grade, or any of the reasons why you liked him in the first place. Because that new boy will be everything you didn’t even know you wanted.”

A door slams, startling me awake, and I blink against the orange glow of morning. With the sun barely clear of the horizon, the inside of the car is already as hot as a pizza oven—and, apparently, I’m the pizza. I lift my head from my sweaty pillow, sending pins and needles through my arm as blood rushes from my shoulder to my fingertips. My muscles scream as I unlock the tension gripping them in place. Even my jaw somehow glued itself shut as if I slept with a mouth full of honey . . . and woke up to the taste of old gym socks.

“Dash?” A quick peek at the empty driver’s seat answers my question.

For a guy who didn’t trust me behind the wheel of his car, he sure didn’t mind locking me inside like an abandoned shih tzu. He could’ve at least cracked a window for me.

Outside, an older man connects his black Tesla to the supercharger. Across the parking lot, several people exit the Holiday Inn Express. I guess we arrived in Lexington while I slept. If I only knew where my infuriating travel partner disappeared to.

Afraid I’ll set off his fancy car alarm if I open the door for air, I dig for my phone to text him instead. I get as far as the lock screen before discovering dozens of missed calls, most of them from Damian. Hell isn’t nearly cold enough for me to call him back, so I scroll through the rest of the list. G-Lo’s name pops up several times, along with several texts from both her and Jeanie, and at least one missed FaceTime request. With Dash who-knows-where doing who-knows-what, I decide to check in with my grandmother while I have the chance.

“Thank goodness you’re alive.” She doesn’t sound nearly as concerned as she’d have me believe. “Jeanie was about to call the FBI.”

“I could’ve used a little FBI intervention, or at least the local sheriff, in Cookeville yesterday. Between the pissed-off farmer, the drug dealer, and the motorcycle gang—” G-Lo cackles into my ear, so I hold the phone at a distance until her laughter dies down. “I’m glad you’re amused. I almost died three times!”