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“Best Mexican food in a fifty-mile radius,” he replies, flashing me a lopsided smirk.
We are both quiet the fifteen miles it takes him to get to the beach. Somehow it isn’t as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. It gives me enough time to check him out. He winks catching me staring at his tattoos, I try to hold back my grin as I quickly stare out the window again.
“Shouldn’t take long,” he says, grabbing the steering wheel firmly, his knuckles turning white.
“What do you mean?” I swallow hard, rubbing my sweaty palms on my thighs.
He follows the movement before our eyes clash. He shifts and turns his attention back on the road. “For you to leave,” he mumbles under his breath.
“You might be right about that,” I whisper, not wanting to show him any more pieces of myself. I don’t need a friend while I’m here, the guy seems nice enough when he’s not being his asshole self at the track, or staring at me during dinner. Still, actions speak louder than words, and he seems to be trying, maybe I should do the same.
I look at his profile, his straight freckled nose, the tattoos covering the better part of his neck. The black ink, and his piercings scream ‘back the fuck off,’ so why do they keep drawing me in?
He parks the car and motions in the direction of a food truck. “You hungry?”
“A little,” I confess, swallowing back the sudden lump in my throat.
“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” he tells me, handing me the car keys. I get out of the truck and a soft warm breeze picks up. I lean against the grill of his Ram, looking out over the ocean, waiting for him to return.
“I’ve got the stuff, so get up there,” he orders.
“Get up where?”
“On the hood,” he says, motioning with his chin. “Here. I’ll give you a hand.” He sets our food and drinks down on the ground, helps me up and hands me two drinks and the wrapped food. He hops on the hood and gets comfortable next to me.
“You come here a lot?” The smell of the juicy burrito reaches my nose, and I moan.
The side of his mouth hikes up. “Yeah, sometimes Drew and I hang out here after catching a wave. They’ve got the best street food.”
I take a sip from the drink. A rich and full flavor bursts into my mouth. “What is this?”
“That, my friend, is horchata,” he explains, sucking on his straw before digging into his burrito again. The palm of my hand cramps, and a sharp pain shoots through my fingers. The cup almost slips from my grip, but he reaches out and catches it before it falls in my lap.
“You okay?” he asks, looking at the way I’m stretching my fingers. I take the drink from him with trembling hands.
“I’m okay,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry, Sky, for acting like an asshole before. Jay is like a father to me, and I got…”
“Possessive,” I finish for him.
“Yeah,” he says grinning.
Three girls walk by the truck and stop next to Hunter.
“Hi, Hunter,” the blonde says.
“Hey, Lauren. What’s up?” he answers.
She gives me a hostile look, and runs her pink manicured hands over his knee. “Nothing much. Missed you these last couple of weeks,” she purrs, taking a step closer to him. Her two friends stay back, and watch her while they chat with each other.
“Been on the road a lot,” he mutters, rolling back his shoulders while she lets go of his knee. “This is my girl, by the way,” he tells her, jerking his chin in my direction.
What the hell? His girl? And why does that give me a secret thrill?
“Hi,” she says, without even looking at me.
I give her a wave she ignores.
