by Kira Berger
Clearing his throat, he pulls me out of my reverie. “Well, I’m glad you’re fine.”
We stare at each other for a minute, the seconds slowly ticking by without either one of us looking away.
My gaze is suddenly drawn to his hands by slow movement. He is holding an oil-stained cloth trying to wipe his hands clean.
With a confused frown, I look at the car behind him. The hood is open; he must have been leaning over it when I walked by. “Is everything all right with your car?”
Groaning in what I think is frustration; he turns around to scowl at his car. “No, I think a spark plug went. I have a couple of spares at home. I’ll just have to come back later to fix it.”
“Oh, so that doesn’t sound too bad. At least you won’t have a huge bill to fix it.” I’m not sure what else to say. I have no clue about cars and standing close to him does nothing but muddle my brain.
When he looks at me a smile is stretched across his face. “True, but I also don’t have a way to get home now, unless I call an Uber.” He looks at me expectantly, even pleadingly.
“Even I know getting an Uber out here takes forever,” I say with a sigh.
Still, I hesitate. Being with him in the close, even tiny, quarters of my little car sounds tempting, too tempting. I still remember how he smelled Saturday, it was heady. Imagining being assaulted by this while needing to concentrate on driving seems daunting. But I’m also not that big of a bitch to leave him stranded here.
“Do you need a ride?” I eventually ask, though it’s pretty obvious I am not thrilled offering it. I never said I need to be gracious about it.
Shaking his head at me while softly laughing, he says, “You’re adorable. And yes, I’d love a ride—in more ways than one.” He smiles at me cheekily, making sure the innuendo isn’t missed.
I roll my eyes at this. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” I don’t wait for an answer but turn to walk toward my car. “Come on then, let’s get you home. I have plans tonight.”
“What plans?” he asks while catching up to me.
“I’m going out with Emma.” I’m so excited about the prospect of having fun I shoot him a beaming smile.
He’s about to respond when my car distracts him. “Seriously?” he says, staring at my car. He sounds incredulous.
“What?” I’m confused. There is nothing wrong with my car.
He looks at me with pity. “A Prius, really?”
“Why not? It’s saves me a shit ton of money on gas, and it drives forward, backward, and can make turns.” I shrug and open the door and put my bag in the backseat before I remember another great feature. “Oh, and I can hook up my phone to the thingy without needing a cable to listen to music. What else do I need?”
Now he looks at me like I’ve lost all my marbles. “It’s a boring car. There is no fun in driving it.”
Ugh, men. Bloody annoying.
“Well, I don’t care if you think it’s a boring car. Your opinion doesn’t exactly matter in this situation. But if you take such offense to my car, you can walk for all I care.” Starting to slide into the seat, I mutter, “Not like I wanted to give you a ride in the first place. Stupid manners.”
I hate how hot and cold he makes me feel. How one minute I’m in a good mood and a second later he’s pissing me off for some reason. And he seems to enjoy making me crazy, too.
“What did you say?” A brilliant smile transforms his face. God, this guy is so confusing. One minute he pities my car, giving me shit, the next he’s smiling at me like I’m something special.
“I said you got two working feet. Enjoy walking your ass home.” With an annoyed huff, I slam the door and start the car. I fully intend to leave his ass standing in the parking lot. Have him figure out how to get his ungrateful ass home.
But before I can do anything but start it, the passenger side door opens and he slides into the seat.
“True, I do have two working feet, but having you drive me home definitely beats walking.”
I don’t have a response, so I put my car in drive and head toward the exit, acutely aware of him sitting next to me. Since my car isn’t exactly huge, combined with his size, it feels crowded. I can feel his heat penetrate me from the passenger seat making me feel all kinds of things I wish I didn’t.
“Take a left at the parking lot exit and head toward the highway.” He starts directing me from the school to his place. I’m quiet, letting him give me directions, hoping his house isn’t too far away and this will be over soon. I’m too electrified by his presence to concentrate on anything but driving and not crashing my car. I’ve never felt anything remotely similar to this. Even though he’s a stranger—someone I’ve known for less than a week—and he keeps pissing me off, I’m not afraid of him. He makes me feel way too much, but unsafe isn’t one of them. Which terrifies me more than anything else.
I’m so absorbed with my thoughts, he startles me when he asks, “How was your first week here?”
“Uh.” I clear my throat. “It was great. Well, except the heat. I could do without it, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah, takes a bit to get used to.”
“Well, I’m cold-blooded so I doubt I will,” I say with what I’m sure is a self-deprecating smile.
I’m joking of course. I believe if you can’t make fun of yourself, you have pretty much lost in life already.
Yet, from the look Duncan shoots me, it looks like he doesn’t think my humor funny in the slightest.
Hmm.
“I doubt you’re cold-blooded. Not after seeing you talk about that poem this morning. You were passionate about it, full of fire, and pain… so much pain…” The last part is a whisper, but I still hear it.
Fuck, I knew he saw too much this morning. I wish he wasn’t so damn observant. I’ve known this guy six bloody days, and he’s already able to read me like a book.
I do not like this. At all.
“Yeah, well…” I struggle for what to say, to keep myself distanced from his probing eyes. “What can I say, I love my job. Most days anyway.”
There, this sounds neutral enough.
“You’re good with the kids. They like you and the way you teach.”
“Really? They told you this?” I ask excitedly. I know I shouldn’t care if I’m liked or hated but hearing that teenagers like coming to my class is a huge compliment in my eyes.
My eagerness causes him to chuckle. “Yeah, babe, they do. I mean mostly the boys—” I have to snort at this. Boys, no matter what age, will never change. “But the girls were gushing about you today in gym class, too. I think that—what did you call it?—slam poem really impressed them. Made them think, question things.”
“One can only hope.”
“It certainly kept me riveted,” he says softly. I can feel his eyes on my profile while I concentrate on driving. “Take the next exit off the highway.”
Damn, I’ve been so engrossed in the conversation while pretending to concentrate on driving I have not paid a lick of attention where I’m actually going. The surroundings are unfamiliar. Thank God for the GPS, I’m not sure how I’d make it home otherwise.
“From here on out it’s pretty easy. Just follow the road for about ten minutes, once you make it to the Wawa take a left, and we’re just about at my place.”
“All right.” I take a deep breath to steady my nerves. I can do this. A few more minutes, and I’m away from his probing eyes.
“So, tell me, what brought you to the States? A boyfriend maybe? I mean London must have been amazing, why leave job security and free healthcare?” he jokes, trying to distract me from the intrusive questions, I imagine. Still, my hands tighten on the steering wheel.
He can’t just leave it, can he?
“Ah, I just needed a change, you know. I get antsy if I stay in one place too long. After a few years, I’d had enough of the stress of living in such a big city. And I was curious what it would be like to live in the country where my mom was born.” I shr
ug helplessly, not noticing how my brow creases involuntarily. I don’t know what else to say without giving away too much. It’s all mostly true, but not the actual reason why I left. I’m here to escape my past, not drag others into it.
I just want to start over. It’s not that much to ask, is it?
Duncan doesn’t say anything for a long minute, long enough for me to glance at him to see what’s going on. He’s staring at me again. Something is working behind his eyes. I can’t figure it out but it’s unnerving.
I concentrate on the road again and notice we’re driving into the same neighborhood from the Labor Day party. I guess it’s safe to assume he was telling the truth and actually was a neighbor invited, and not one of Luna’s relatives. Thank God. When I see Wawa come up at the next intersection, I prepare to take a left, ignoring the stare from my right as best as I can.
“You’re good, but not good enough,” he says almost absentmindedly, but it sends a chill down my back.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand, not in the mood to put up with anyone’s cryptic bullshit.
“I mean your poker face is good, but not good enough to fool me. This past week, I’ve noticed your tells; they’re subtle, but there.”
He seems reflective, contemplative, and totally ignoring how creepy this sounds.
“What?” I say in surprise. I have no interest in him knowing more about me than he already does, so I deflect. “I have no clue what you mean. You’re seeing things.” Denial has been my friend for a while now, but it’s helped me avoid confronting what happened four months ago. I’m not ready to face it yet. I can’t have this gorgeous man find out.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. And you can keep me at arm’s length as much as you want, but it’s not going to work.” Sighing deeply, he continues to pretty much rock my world. “Look, I’m into you, a lot. I think I’ve made this pretty clear from day one. You’ve done your best to avoid me, but I see you. You hide, but I see you, babe. I doubt I’ve even scratched the surface, but you’ve shown me enough to know while you didn’t lie just now, I also know you’re holding something back. Something’s haunting you. It’s plain to see for anyone who’s looking past your prickly attitude.”
After quickly pointing out his house so I can park in front of it, he reaches over and places his hand on my leg in a partly comforting but also possessive manner.
“I know you’re scared, gorgeous. I can see that. I don’t know why you’re scared, but you are. And while I’d love to, I’m not going to force you to confide in me. But I will prove to you that you can trust me. And once you’re ready, you can tell me all about what is making your eyes sad when you think no one is looking.”
He’s rendered me speechless. I know I keep repeating myself, but how is it possible he of all people can see past my mask, when people who’ve known me years, like Tom and Luna, can’t.
Is it this connection between us? This weird magnetism that allows him to be tuned into me this accurately?
I don’t know. And I’m too scared to find out.
“I—” I can hear the tremble in my voice. His words are trying to strip me raw. I clear my throat, hoping my voice will be strong and confident. “Look, Duncan, I’m sure you’re a nice guy and all, but I have no intention of getting involved with anyone. No matter what you think you might have seen, let me assure you that you are wrong. I am not haunted by anything.”
Liar.
His eyebrows rise, and I can tell he’s about to spew some kind of argument at me. So, I hold up my hand, silencing whatever he was about to say. “And even if I was, I don’t need a hero to save me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have plans tonight and need to get ready. I’m sure you got it from here, right?”
I know I’m being rude, but I need him to leave. And I do have plans with Emma. I need to get ready before she comes over with takeout. I’m determined to have a good time tonight—have some drinks, dance, and forget.
He squeezes my thigh, and I shift my eyes back to him. “All right, babe. I see you’ve had enough for now.”
Suddenly smirking at me, he takes me by surprise when he gives me a quick kiss on the corner of my mouth.
I gasp. What the hell?
“Thank you for the ride, gorgeous. I’ll see you later.” With that, he quickly exits my car and slams the door behind him. All before I can utter a single word.
My lips are tingling where he kissed me, and warmth is spreading through my body. I can’t believe he kissed me; that I liked it. What is wrong with me? And then he leaves me to sit here without giving me the chance to give him a piece of my mind. I’m completely ignoring my reaction to his kiss, and instead focus on the fact that he did it without my permission. Being mad at him is a lot easier than being mad at myself.
Fuming, I put my car back in gear and make a U-turn, not really caring where I’m going as long as it’s away from him.
Once I make it to the corner I realize I don’t remember my way home. Dammit. So, I pull over and type my address in the GPS while in park, since my car doesn’t let me operate the system while driving. At least my boring little Prius will keep me safe on the road.
I let out a frustrated growl before I take a deep breath to calm down. Getting worked up over some man is not going to help me. I need to calm down and find a way for him to leave me alone.
I just wish I had any idea how to accomplish this; he doesn’t seem like the type to give up easily.
But not tonight, tonight I’ll have fun with my new friend and forget my troubles. Tomorrow is a new day to find a solution to my problems.
I turn up the music while I wait for the GPS to find the fastest route. Then, on the drive home I make sure to shove all thoughts about Duncan into the dark recess of my mind by singing loudly to a remix of Julia Michaels’ “Issues.”
Seems fitting enough.
Chapter Eight
Later that night, I sit cross-legged on my couch with a blanket thrown over my legs, a glass of wine on the coffee table, and a plate held in my hands piled with Chinese food.
After what happened with Duncan, I drove straight home and took a long bath, trying to relax and get my tumultuous feelings under control. This, combined with a good book, a big glass of wine, and my favorite chill playlist on Spotify helped—more like I was able to shove him and his words into an iron vault, lock it, and throw away the key.
Usually, getting ready to go out doesn’t take me long, but for some reason I felt like dressing up more than normal. Maybe I just wanted to feel pretty for one night, forget everything, and have some fun. This is why I’m wearing a short dress that’s clinging to my body, showing off my curves. It’s a deep purple, which goes great with my dark hair. I’m not good with makeup, so I went light on that—eyeliner, mascara, and a deep red lipstick.
“You look hot by the way. Damn, you’ll have to fend off men left and right tonight,” Emma says between bites.
We’ve been chatting ever since she came over an hour ago with food. It’s like we’ve known each other for years instead of a week. Having only moved here six months ago herself, she is rather new to the area as well, but is up to explore what the East Coast has to offer. Since she is originally from San Diego, I imagine this is quite the difference in surroundings.
I shrug at this. I didn’t dress up just to be flirted with. I did it for me—to feel beautiful after a week of wearing conservative clothes at work.
“Thanks. You do, too.” And she does. Her dress is navy blue and hits her about mid-thigh, but it shows off her killer figure perfectly. Her straight, shoulder-length hair frames her elegant face, combined with her chocolate brown eyes that radiate happiness, she’s gorgeous in that subtle way many women nowadays have forgotten can be just as alluring. And I have a feeling she’ll be the popular one tonight.
“But regardless, we’re here to have fun, not get laid. Or are you?” I give her a smirk but have to laugh out loud once I notice the blush taking over her face. “Well, I’m
sure that can be arranged as well.”
“You’re incorrigible,” she says, giving me a dirty look while blushing.
“Is that a yes or a no?” I keep laughing. Teasing her is too much fun.
Heaving a big sigh, she’s suddenly serious. “You know, I wouldn’t mind a hot romp in bed with some sexy stranger. It’s been too long since I’ve had an orgasm that wasn’t self-induced.”
I choke on my food at this. Who would have thought straight-laced, innocent looking Emma would actually say something like this?
Giving me another dirty look, she asks exasperated, “What?”
“Nothing. Sorry. It just took me by surprise. No offense, but you didn’t strike me as a woman to engage in a hot one-nighter or speak so freely about masturbation. Not that it’s a bad thing, mind you. Just surprising.”
“Well, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover,” she says with a mischievous grin on her face, letting me know she’s teasing.
“Ah, yeah. I’ve been told this once or twice before.” More like a hundred times by my family. “I’m sorry. I am working on this, have been for a while. Maybe one day I’ll stop being so quick to cast judgment.” I sigh, looking at my food.
And isn’t this the damn truth, I either judge people too harshly, or not hard enough. Which has led me down a rather dark path in the past, but no more. I made a promise to my family before—
I throw up a mental wall to ward off that line of thinking. There is no space for these types of thoughts tonight.
When Emma doesn’t answer for a while, I look at her to find her studying me. Her head cocked to one side, perfectly still. It’s a little eerie to be honest.
“Um, you okay?”
“Yeah…” she mutters, trailing off again. Suddenly, like shaking off a dream, she shakes her head and beams at me. Something changed, I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it’s like she’s too happy about something.
What the hell is going on?
“It’s nothing. Sorry. My mind sometimes wanders when I try to figure something out.” She shoots me another smirk, racking up my unease.