Tears pooled, the car slowed to a crawl, and I closed my eyes, breathing in and out to get my head straight again.
It’s okay. We’ve got all the time in the world.
We’ve got all the time in the world.
I blew out a long, slow breath.
It’s okay.
It’s okay.
He wasn’t rushing me. He wasn’t mocking me. He wasn’t hurrying me.
It was okay if I learned things a little slower. It was okay.
I sniffled, and even though he couldn’t see my face, he probably knew I was crying, but I stretched my fingers and gripped the wheel again.
“Okay,” I said.
He gave it some gas, and I pulled back onto the road, moving the steering wheel smaller this time, swerving the car side to side to find the edges of my lane, kind of like I do when I dance. Gauging the perimeter and counting time to feel for my mark.
The left tires ran over little bumps every few feet, and I realized they were reflectors in the middle of the road, so drivers could see their lanes at night.
That was my mark. How I could tell when I left my lane.
My shoulders relaxed just a little, and I sat up straighter. Okay.
I kept the wheel positioned in my lane, feeling when the right side would dip a little as it did right before it gave way to grass, and feeling the reflectors on the left, keeping me from veering into the opposing lane. My wheel wasn’t always straight, but we were going slow enough I could tell when the road curved just slightly in order to stay between my markers.
“You did it,” he whispered.
I broke out in a smile, my eyes still wet, but feeling a lot better than I did a few minutes ago. He didn’t teach me, either. He didn’t tell me about the reflectors or how to move the wheel or anything. He just waited for me to learn it on my own. It was a nice change and took the pressure off. It was nice not to feel hurried.
“We’re gonna go faster,” he told me.
Faster? And there went the relaxation and confidence I’d just been basking in.
“I’ll let you know which way to move the wheel, okay?”
“Okay,” I replied. It made sense. We’d be going faster, so I’d have less time to correct myself.
His legs moved under me, he shifted gears, and the car picked up pace, making my body jerk against him. Instinctively, I gripped the wheel harder and didn’t blink for a second as I tried to concentrate.
The engine roared, and I could feel the acceleration vibrate under my thighs as we barreled into the night where anything could come out at me too fast for two minds to react in sync. An animal, another car, a person… Jesus. Too fast. Too fast. The car rumbled under my feet, making my heart leap in my chest.
“The wheel is at noon,” he said. “When I say ‘go’, slowly and softly veer to the left, to about ten o’clock.”
I couldn’t swallow or speak, so I just nodded, curling my toes in fear. Shit.
“Go,” he said.
As he instructed, I gently turned the wheel a few inches, feeling the tires run over the reflectors, but instead of swerving in the other direction to correct myself, I found them with the very edge of my left tires and stayed on them. It would probably freak out oncoming traffic with my hugging the middle of the road like this, but I was able to manage the curves of the road all by myself.
“Okay, it’s gonna curve right in—”
“Shh,” I snapped, shutting him up.
I needed to listen.
And then, as he warned, the reflectors twisted right, and I needed to correct the wheel to follow it, surprisingly not going off the road like I half-expected.
“Jesus Christ,” he laughed, sounding impressed. “Okay, I’ll just take a nap. You have fun.”
“Don’t you dare!” I scolded.
We’d eventually come to an intersection, a street light, or a pedestrian. Plus, he worked the gas.
“Can we go faster?” I asked.
I’d been tensing and concentrating so hard, I wanted to be thrilled.
He shifted and accelerated, and if my count was right, we were in fourth or fifth gear.
“It’s pretty straight for the next couple of minutes,” he told me. “You want some music?”
I thought about it, realizing I could feel us running over the reflectors, and I didn’t necessarily need to hear them.
“Okay.”
He turned on his stereo, “Go to Hell” playing, and I relaxed back into him, my heart beating hard with the speed but still studying every little bump underneath us to keep us on the road.
An engine started to rumble from farther off, and the ground under me shook a little harder. What was that?
I turned my head to check with him, but all of a sudden, the wind whipped past us and a loud horn blared as a truck, I thought, zoomed right past us.
I gasped, feeling the car shake with the draft, and my hands shook on the wheel, feeling the reflectors underneath the right tires again. “Holy shit!”
I laughed, and I felt his body shake with his own laughter behind me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I barked but smiled. “We could’ve died!”
“Fun, huh?”
Asshole jerk.
And yes, it was fun.
“Ready for more?” he taunted.
“Yes.” I bit my bottom lip, butterflies still swarming my stomach, but I couldn’t stop.
“In a minute, you’re going to jerk the wheel to nine-o’clock,” he explained. “I’m not going to slow down.”
“What?”
“In three…two…”
“Wait, you said I had ‘a minute’!” I yelped.
“One!” he shouted in my ear. “Go!”
“Fuck…” I cried out, jerking the wheel left to nine o’clock and gasping. “You!”
The car skidded, bouncing and barreling over the pavement and onto a gravel road, and I felt his hand cover the top of my head as our bodies were thrown side to side, my skull damn near hitting the roof.
“Oh, my God, oh, my God…”
He down shifted. “Straighten out,” he told me.
I did, breathing faster than a bullet as he shifted again and sped up, both of us charging into the night, down an unlit gravel road, to whatever tree we were going to wrap this car around.
But holy shit. Everything on me was warm. Hot. My blood raced, and my arms felt strong enough to make me fly.
I turned up the music, found the window buttons on the door, and rolled down the window, the much-needed cool air whipping through my hair as the music pounded.
I turned my head toward him, his breath on the corner of my mouth. “Can we go faster?”
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t budge other than to press the clutch, shift gears, and punch the gas.
We charged down the road, and I was having so much fun now. But I wasn’t the one who was losing control. My pulse and breathing had calmed. His, on the other hand…
I felt his chest rise and fall against my back as his breath hit my cheek, shallow and labored.
I curled my lips in a little smile. My turn.
“Tell me when,” I said.
“When what?”
“I want to turn again.”
I felt his head shake side to side. “We’re going too fast for that now, Little Devil.”
I held onto the wheel and lifted up my foot, putting it on top of his and pressing it into the pedal, so he didn’t let off the gas. “Please?”
His voice shook. “Winter...”
I nudged the steering wheel side to side, playing. “Left or right? You choose or I will.”
He breathed hard through his teeth, gripping my hips with both hands now. “No.”
“I’m gonna do it.”
“No,” he growled in a loud whisper. “You do what you’re told.”
I jammed down on his foot, accelerating the car a little more.
“Left or right?” I asked, my nose brushing his. “Tell me.”
&
nbsp; He panted, digging his fingers into my skin through my sweatshirt.
“Three,” I threatened, counting down. “Two…”
“Okay, okay, okay,” he said. “Wait. Just wait.”
I leaned my forehead into his. “One.”
“Okay, three o’clock! Now!” he hissed.
I faced forward, rotated the wheel right, both of us slamming into the door as the car sprung over the dips and uneven earth on the new gravel road.
“No, four!” he shouted, realizing three wasn’t enough. “Four o’clock! Shit!”
I turned it more, but we knew it was a lost cause. I lost the wheel as the car skidded and spun out, and my body coiled up on reflex to protect itself. His arms went around me, covering my head, and I screamed as the car tipped onto one side, balancing for a moment and threatening to flip over, but then fell back onto all four tires again.
The car stilled, the engine died, and I stayed like that, cradled in his lap, taking a mental inventory of my body.
Other than banging my knee on the steering wheel when I brought it up, and an ache in my shoulder from hitting the car door, I was fine. I popped my head up, bringing my hands to his face.
“Did I kill you?” I asked.
But he didn’t laugh or say anything for a moment. Just breathed.
“My heart…” he said. “Shit.”
I remembered what he said last week at my house. Do you know what I have to do to get it to beat like that?
“I scared you.”
“Not an emotion I’m used to being on the receiving end of,” he mused.
And then his fingers found the pulse on my neck and pressed down. I followed suit, placing my three fingers on his neck, on the side of his throat, and finding his pulse, as well. We sat there for a moment, each of us with one hand on our own neck and another on the other person’s.
It was fast like mine, and I liked that I did that to him.
“What color is your car?” I asked, pulling my hands down from his neck and mine.
“Black.”
Of course.
“When I remember the colors in my head,” I remarked, “I get a feeling sometimes. Pink is how I feel now. My stomach doing somersaults and laughing. Giddy. Squirrelly…” I slid off him and into the passenger side seat. “I don’t know what I feel when I picture black, though. Nothing, really, I guess.”
“That sounds like a challenge.”
I smiled to myself. “You scared me, I scared you, now it’s your turn again.”
He started the car and shifted into gear. “Pull your hood up and put your seatbelt on.”
“Why?”
“Because I told you to,” he muttered, trying to sound commanding, but it just came off as playful.
I pulled my seatbelt on, fastened it, and pulled up the hood of my sweatshirt, my hair spilling out the sides.
We drove in silence, which was fine by me, because he blasted the stereo, and the only time I got to enjoy loud music in the car was with my sister, but she hardly ever had to chauffeur me anywhere, so those times were rare.
Turning my face toward the window, I zoned out, thinking about everything that had happened the past hour. Dancing for him, touching him, the way he was patient with me but also pushed me, to see what I was made of.
And how I wasn’t entirely sure if it was for my benefit or for his pleasure.
His body moved next to me, shifting gears and putting pedal to the metal, but every once in a while, I felt his eyes on me. My heartbeat started to pick up pace, and I was glad I couldn’t see him with my eyes. Glad I would never be able to see him.
He would be the picture he was in my head. A faceless boy with dark hair and fire in his eyes, just how I wanted it.
Forever.
We drove into town—he started curbing his speed, and I think we stopped at a traffic light—and after a few turns, he pulled the car to a stop and turned off the engine.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, taking his keys. “Keep your hood up.”
I didn’t respond, and he didn’t wait for confirmation that I’d heard. Opening the car door, he climbed out, slammed the door shut, and I heard the click of the lock right before everything went silent. Of course, I could still open my door. I could get out. He was keeping anyone else from getting in.
I felt a little traffic farther away, and I could hear the subterranean droning of music coming from the building to my left, but other than that, the village was quiet. I had no idea what time it was.
Why did I need to cover myself? Maybe he was planning on slicing and dicing me, after all, and didn’t want witnesses tracking my whereabouts after the fact?
I almost laughed. I was pretty sure he had no malicious intent at this point.
But then something occurred to me. What if he didn’t want his friends to see me? What if he had a girlfriend?
Nope. Don’t do it. He came to me. He found me. He brought me out. I wasn’t going to look for excuses to end the night.
In no time at all, the door opened, but this time it was my door.
“Let’s go,” he said, taking my hand.
“Where?” I climbed out, following him.
“To see black.”
See black? I loved his imagination.
Confused but intrigued, I remained quiet as I followed him down the street, hearing the sizzling sound of a neon sign with the smell of pizza damn near making me moan with hunger. Sticks. We were across from the park in the town square right in front of a local hangout. A bar that admitted minors, because it had bands and pool tables, so really, people of all ages could be found there. Is that where he ran to a moment ago?
He held something up to me, and I took it, turning it around in my hands and finally realizing it was a helmet.
A helmet?
I heard something move, a key being inserted, and I hesitated a moment, because I was in sleep shorts, and if we fell, I’d have no clothing protecting my legs, my most prized possessions on which I trusted my future in dance.
I groaned to myself. As long as he didn’t expect me to drive, I guess…
Fastening the strap of the half helmet under my chin, I held onto his arm as he helped me climb on behind him. It was a little chilly, and the wind might be too brisk. I brushed the back of his head with my hand, feeling that he wasn’t wearing a helmet at all.
“Whose bike is this?” I asked.
“A friend.”
I put my hands on his waist, but his body shot up and then came down hard, sparking the motor to life, and I didn’t need him to tell me what to do. I wrapped my arms around him, and put my head down behind his back, but I was nervous as hell. I’d never ridden on a motorcycle before.
“Don’t let go,” he ordered me.
Yeah, like, duh.
I tucked my feet up on the footrests and squeezed him tight as we shot off, kicking up gears and picking up pace.
I whimpered, but I didn’t think he heard it.
This was faster than the car. Or maybe it was because I could feel the wind.
He veered left, turning around the square, and the bike leaned so far, I thought we’d tip over.
“Can you slow down a little bit?” I yelled. “Please?”
But once we rounded the corner, he sped off, shooting to warp speed, and I yelped, locking my arms around his body and squeezing him between my thighs.
“I don’t feel…” I laughed for good measure, “Like really secure. Slow down!”
But he didn’t. He veered right, then left, then right again, the weight of our bodies feeling like too much as we tipped from side to side.
There was a dip, my stomach vaulted up and down, and we shot up a steep hill, and I gasped, holding him tighter.
We raced over the top of the hill, leaving the ground and picking up air as we flew over the hump and to the ground again. My heart leapt into my throat, and I felt like I was on a ride I couldn’t control and didn’t have time to think, and even if I could, I couldn’t stop what
was happening. My body rushed with heat and energy, terror swelled in my throat, and I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to laugh, puke, or scream.
He sped around a bend, we leaned, and I could almost feel the ground an inch under my leg. I couldn’t stop myself. “I’m gonna fall!” I cried out. “Stop, please!”
And he did. He slowed and halted, and as if by magic, everything was quiet again.
I didn’t let him go.
“This is black,” he said. “Fear, falling, release. Excitement, risk, danger.”
I sat there, hugging him and trying to figure out if I liked it or not. It scared me just like he did when he broke into the house last week. I hated that, but… I didn’t really hate it anymore. Probably because I wasn’t as scared of him anymore. It was fear in a controlled environment. The motorcycle wasn’t.
Or maybe I just needed to try it again.
“I won’t let you go ag—” He stopped and evened out his voice. “I won’t let you go,” he said. “Hold on.”
I inhaled a shaky breath and readied myself for another go. And when the bike shot off again, I lifted my head, making myself not hide from it.
He won’t let me go. He won’t let me go.
The wind cut my face, and I closed my eyes to keep them from watering. After a moment, I found my body molded to his and moved with it as he turned and leaned, sped and broke, and it was like we were one rider.
When he leaned, and I thought we were going to fall, I squeezed my eyes shut and stopped breathing, letting him handle the bike and me and carrying us around in one piece.
When it happened again, I eased my muscles a little more, trusting him and letting him do it. I tipped my head back, feeling the wind and my body move with his, no longer needing to squeeze him so tightly.
I wanted to go all night now, because for the first time in forever, I was seeing things again. And just because I’d lost my sight didn’t mean that I needed to fear getting lost.
Just maybe, it was exactly what I’d been dying for.
The rumble of the motor shook my tummy, and I smiled, hoping for a thousand more nights like this.
He slowed to a stop and put his feet down on the ground. “Fear, falling, release,” he said again. “Excitement, risk, danger.”
Kill Switch (Devil's Night #3) Page 21