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Sup?Was he serious?
Heading home from class,I texted back. I waited and wondered if he’d respond. Then I swallowed every ounce of my pride and typed in, Want to go out for a drink?
I watched for the bubble signifying he was typing a response. It didn’t come. Then it did. I chewed on my lower lip and waited for his answer to pop up. Why did I feel so desperate for him to say yes? Maybe it was because things were unresolved between us. I hated when things were unresolved.
Can’t,came Cade’s reply.
My chest deflated. There was my answer. The kiss had been one-sided. My refusal of Paul’s payment an act of desperation. I should have known—
Stranded.
I stared at that one word and considered what he meant by that.
Car probs?I typed. A guess.
Come here.
Anticipation zinged through my bloodstream and echoed through my bones at those two commanding words.
I could go to him. Unload the stress about my stupid class on him. If we were friends—having thought about that again, it was the best descriptor for what we were—then I should be able to sit and have a conversation with him. Plus, the benefit to Cade’s not being much of a talker was that he was a really good listener.
Going over to his house for an impromptu visit wouldn’t be that much different from any other session. Except I’d be tempted to kiss him again.
I scrunched my eyes closed and decided I would absolutely not overthink. Nope. I’d go with the flow. Channel my inner Rena and do it because it was fun.
Of course, on the way I’d drive safely and obey traffic laws. I was still me, after all.
Who knew what would happen when I arrived? Maybe he’d be moody and I’d vent about my class, and no one would kiss anyone. Maybe he’d work on his exercises without complaint.
Maybe he’ll work on me.
Oh, boy. This was such a bad idea.
But it couldn’t be all bad, given that I was smiling and excitedly anticipating my evening, right?
I sent one final text to Cade—Be there in 10—then put my car in gear and left campus. I didn’t want to give him too much credit, but the knowledge that I was going to get to see him did introduce a zing of exhilaration.
I noticed I was speeding and eased my foot off the gas pedal. It was raining and the roads were slick.
Hey, only one risk at a time.
Cade
The skies had opened up since Tasha texted me. In my room above the garage, part of the roof had sprung a leak. Well, more of a drip. I slid the bucket under it, listening to the pat pat pat sound as I sent Tasha a quick text letting her know to meet me in the main house. Then I jogged across the dim garage, past my car—the only vehicle in it—and into the kitchen.
Rain slid down the windows and blew the trees. I stood at the front door, worriedly watching the weather and picturing Tasha’s fancy BMW getting whipped around. I regretted suggesting she come over.
Her safety was the only reason for my regrets, though. Every other part of me itched to see her. Even after I watched her refuse to take my dad’s payment for our “therapy.” I wasn’t sure if it was because she’d given up on me, or what. Then when I hadn’t heard from her this week, I decided that, yeah, she’d given up on me.
Her text was surprising, and my text back was a test. Would she come to me if I asked? After the way she’d run cold—and arguably I’d deserved it for my attitude—I had to know if she was still interested. If maybe, just maybe, she’d refused my dad’s money because she wanted to kiss me a few more times.
My 1969 Camaro worked fine, by the way. A white lie to see if she’d accept my invitation. When I won that round, I’d punched the air in triumph. Now I wished I’d gone to her instead. No way should she be out in this mess. I was a skilled driver—more skilled than her—and I handled shitty weather better than she did. That wasn’t a sexist accusation, just the truth. Driving was a skill I’d honed. She merely climbed into a car to get her from points A to B.
A branch from the tall ash tree in our front yard thwacked the porch and snapped in half. It might as well have smacked me in the back of the head for the crap I’d pulled to get Tasha here. Dammit.
I should have told her to go home. She’d be safer there.
Out of the rain? Or away from you?
