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“Wait, wait,” I called, hurrying after him.
Evan stopped at a black Impala. I knew what kind of car it was because second only to his police career was Dad’s obsession with cars.
“Nice ride,” I said, running a hand over the paintwork. It wasn’t immaculate: years’ worth of dents and chips marred the finish, but it was still a classic.
“Thanks. It was my old man’s. Where do you live?”
“Westgate. And thanks… for this. I don’t want to give my mom a heart attack the first time I leave the house. I tried texting her, but I can’t get reception.”
Why was I telling him this? He didn’t need to know how pathetic my life was.
“Yeah.” Evan unlocked the car. “It’s the interference from the Port or something. Makes the service drop out sometimes.”
I nodded and waited for him to climb inside before I opened the door and slid into the seat. Evan’s hand gripped the wheel, his knuckles white, drained of blood. He always seemed so tense. And although I was grateful to him for bailing me out, his presence was a lot to swallow.
Backing the Impala out of the parking lot, he turned left, the club shrinking in the distance. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Frustration twisted in my chest. Evan was always so cryptic—when he actually bothered to talk to me, which wasn’t all that often.
“Why not? It’s just a club.” I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye, watching his eyes narrow on the road as if I’d annoyed him again.
“You’re out of your league, math girl.”
“Becca,” I snapped, growing tired of his shitty attitude.
“Excuse me?” A hint of amusement played in his voice.
“My name is Becca.”
“I know what your name is.”
“So use it.” Folding my arms over my chest, I pressed back into the worn leather. Sometimes, when he looked at me, I felt certain he felt it too—the strange push and pull between us—but most of the time, he just seemed irritated by me.
Right now, the feeling was mutual.
We rode in silence until my service kicked in, and my cell bleeped, cutting through the tension radiating around us.
“You should probably answer that. Mommy is worried.” He mocked me with my own words.
Bastard.
Clutching my phone tight, I gritted my teeth, refusing to let him taunt me. But my stupid phone bleeped again, and he laughed. It was all deep and gravelly and did things to my insides that confused me because all I wanted to do was throw something at his face.
“What the hell is your problem?” The words spilled out before I could stop them, and his laughter died.
“Myproblem?”
I turned my head to face him. He kept his eyes on the road, but I knew he could feel me watching him, burning daggers into the side of his face.
“Yes. You obviously don’t like me, but I can’t for the life of me figure out why. You’ve spent the whole week ignoring me like I’m nothing.” My voice wavered, but it was too late. I’d said the words now. “You don’t even know me.”
Evan didn’t reply. He didn’t say a damn word, just kept driving. Shrugging back into my seat, I watched the town roll by. Bathed in moonlight, everything looked idyllic. But I knew it was an illusion. This end of Credence was different from our neighborhood. Dad had warned me that it wasn’t like Montecito. Sure, it wasn’t all bad, but it bordered some undesirable neighborhoods. A place like this would eat up a girl like me and spit out my bones.The old you, you mean.Because now, I had no choice; I had to learn to survive in a place like Credence.
After ten minutes, the landscape grew more familiar. We passed the school and arrived in my neighborhood. Evan navigated his way with ease, completely focused on the road, and not on me. It stung a little—especially after the way he’d watched me dancing.Maybe you imagined it. Maybe he was plotting all the ways to make your life hell.
“Which one?” He broke the suffocating silence, and I pointed at my house. My hand reached for the handle as Evan rolled to a stop. I wanted nothing more than to be free of him and his hostility and infuriating mixed signals.
“Thanks,” I said, pushing open the door. Climbing out, I didn’t look back. Until his voice perforated the air, stopping me dead in my tracks.
