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Who else?
“Hey. Uh, T…” I refrain from calling him Thomas, because I only call him that when I’m really annoyed with him. Or want to be a smartass, and right now I need his help. “Look, no one else is picking up. I’m kinda in a jam.”
An awkward moment of silence passes. “What’s wrong?”
“My car broke down.”
“That’s because you drive a piece of shit. It’s a death trap.”
“Spoken like a true mechanic.”
“Where are you?”
I reel off the address. It’s not far from the workshop.
“Why didn’t Rock come get you?” he presses.
“Didn’t answer.”
“Fuckin’ need that tow truck business 24/7.”
It sucks how great minds think alike, but I refrain from saying anything.
“To do that we need to be on board with an insurance company for after-hours callouts.” Something I’m working on, but that takes time.
He grunts. “I’ll be there soon.”
“What about my car?”
“That tin wagon is a piece of shit. Keep tellin’ you that.”
“Ugh.”
He hangs up on me.
Asshole.
Great. Now I’m going to be stuck with a grumpy-ass biker and the man I least of all want to see, much less share a ride with. I just hope to God he brings his truck and not his damn motorcycle. The last thing I want to be doing is pressing my body up against his.
The number of times I’ve thought about it over the years, however, doesn’t delude me to the fact that I never really got over Tag, I think back to the night of the frat party when I was a freshman and my heart leaps in my chest…
Ten years ago
“You know if this party gets raided, we’ll be implicated,” I tell Payden.
She rolls her eyes at me and chugs down more warm beer. “You worry too much.”
“No, I don’t. I’m serious.” I’ve always been the good girl.
The one who tried to be the sounding board for my mom when my dad cheated and left us. Then she found love again, remarried and got her happily ever after. I never wanted to give my mom one ounce of grief because she’d already lost somuch. When she found Terrance, I was genuinely happy for her. My mom was too gorgeous and too nice a person to be left on the shelf, but after what my asshole dad did, I have zero respect for him.
I stayed in line. Got good grades and tried to not be a pain in her ass. She had enough going on.
“Just live a little,” she reassures me. “Anyway, we’re drinking beer, we’re not smoking joints or doing any heavy shit.”
I give her a worried look. Drugs have never interested me. In fact, they scare me. I know everyone does it, but I like being able to stay in control. As we pass drunk guys and girls through the enormous house, I’m vilified in my decision making.
I’m definitely not losing my virginity to some loser in someone else’s bed or couch who won’t even remember my name in the morning.
