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“I can’t file another claim on my parents’ insurance,” I groaned. “I’ve already had two wrecks in the past year, and my father warned me if I had another one, he would take away my car. Can we handle this without filing a claim?”
“Hmmm,” he said quietly, tapping his index finger on his chin. “Seems like you’re in a predicament, aren’t you?”
He sounded sympathetic, but something else flashed through his expression. Something not so sympathetic.
“I’ll pay for the damages, somehow,” I said, but I knew it would be impossible to come up with the amount of money to cover the damages. I’d definitely need another side hustle—or two or three or four or five—in addition to my part-time job at the library. I could donate blood. And write research papers for students. What was the going rate for that? It would take me several months, years even, but if I worked hard enough, it could happen.
“No.” He crossed his arms and glanced down at the ground. “Then, I guess it was my fault.”
“What?”
“I hit your car.”
“But you didn’t—”
“It was my fault, okay?” he cut in.
“I don’t under—”
“Understand?” He raised his eyebrows and took a step closer. “I think you do understand. I accidentally threw the car in drive and ran into your parked car. What’s there to understand? I’ll handle it.”
I eyed him like I was waiting for him to say he was joking and that this was all just a bad dream. “Are you serious?”
He nodded solemnly. “Very.”
“Okay.” I swallowed slowly. “Somehow, I’ll pay you back.”
“I don’t want or need your money.”
“What is it you want?”
His smile spread slowly, and two dimples materialized. “Now, that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” His words hung in the air between us before he leaned in and said, “I still need that date for the Pike formal.”
He would take care of this situation if I went to the formal? This all seemed wrong, and my pulse raced with apprehension. There had to be another way.
“On second thought.” I pursed my lips, knowing most people would’ve taken the deal he was offering. “I’ll give you my insurance information.”
His brows rose, clearly incredulous. “You’d rather risk losing your car than attend a formal with me at a five-star hotel?”
I nodded solemnly. “It’s my fault. It’s the right thing to do.”
“The right thing to do. Of course, a good girl like you would never consider compromising her morals.” He studied my face before peering down at my body. “How old are you?”
A chill ran down my spine. “Why?”
“You have to be twenty-one to get into the Sky Lounge.”
My heart stopped. “I’m of age.” My words came out stilted.
“Of age? Come on, now. Don’t disappoint me by telling a lie. Gotta keep those morals in check, don’t you?” He moved in closer as he watched me.
I held his stare before dropping my eyes and saying quietly, “I’m nineteen.”
Silence passed. “Nineteen. It seems like you’re not quite of age to be here.” He leaned into my cheek, and my breath caught in my throat. He ran his nose down my skin and hovered over my lips. “I smell alcohol.”
“I had one drink,” I said unsteadily.
He paused, lingering over my mouth, but he drew his head back with a faint smile. “You’re underage. You were drinking. You hit my parked car.”
