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10
LOW BLOW FLY-BY
A low,sexy rumble sounded to my left as soon as I stepped off the wooden dock and onto the concrete of the deserted parking lot.
A sound that could only be the purr of Theo’s very expensive, very seductive car.
I paused, putting on my heels. Although grit was still caught on the underside of my foot, I thought my steps were just as alluring and powerful as I hip-swayed over to the car.
A blur of movement within the interior and the passenger door was pushed open. I slid in, gritting my teeth at a pebble nestling between my pinky-toe and the tight leather of my shoe. As soon as I was comfortable, I subtly coaxed them back off.
“Last chance,” Theo said as the engine roared. He stared straight ahead.
I mimicked his body language and replied, “I’ll take the gamble.”
A flick of his wrist, a spin of the wheel, and we burned rubber out of the lot and into the unknown.
* * *
We weresilent for most of the drive, because we didn’t know what to say to each other.
What words should be spoken to the lost love that was somehow found again, damaged and incomplete? I supposed we weren’t going to talk about the kiss.
I chewed on my lower lip, staring out the passenger window and pretending like these questions didn’t matter.
When we slowed at a stop light, the only car on the road, Theo said, “We’re almost there.”
“Where?” I asked.
“We’re taking a plane. Private. It’s ready to go as soon as we arrive.”
I fiddled with the air conditioning controls, but to be honest, I had no idea if it controlled the air or the gas in this techno-monster-mobile we were in. “Automobiles, planes … all I need is trains, then I’ll be complete.”
“That will come,” he said. Cryptically.
Giving up on the pilot controls, I fell back in my seat.
“Cold?” he asked.
Since my arms were more snakeskin than human, I was forced to nod. It took him a full one second to cut off the air blasting at me and replace it with heat instead.
“Your bag is in the backseat.”
I loosened the seatbelt and folded toward the back, finding my bag in the dark and unzipping it one-handed. Right on top, where I laid it this afternoon (which already seemed like it was three weeks ago) was my ratty old heather gray hoodie. Actually, not mine originally, as I had no plans to go to NYU. It belonged to my sister, one of the last remaining vestiges of her that I possessed. It no longer smelled like Cassie, but it fell across my shoulders exactly as it had over hers, and was so stretched out, the sleeves caressed my knuckles, just like they did on her. The drawstring was missing, the U was becoming unstitched, but it was my most prized possession.
When I had it settled over my body, I caught Theo staring. He immediately went back to keeping us alive by directing his attention to the road, but I couldn’t help but sizzle under the attention.
“Not many people smile so sadly when they put on sweatshirts,” he said in a low voice.
Fizzle.
“I told you I was chilly.”
“Mmm,” was his reply, then made a wide left turn through an open metal gate.
We motored down a long roadway into an airstrip where a charter plane awaited.
Planes had the most powerful presence out of all man-made machines. Their sheer girth and ability to block out a horizon, the fact that they could cut through and float on air despite weighing a thousand tons. This “small” aircraft was no different, painted all white with a navy blue belly. Its wingspan still made up at least eight of me.
