Senior Week Kiss

by Maggie Dallen

  My gaze flew up to meet his through the window and I felt a rush of heat in my cheeks. Good Lord, I hope he hadn’t noticed me checking out his chest. Also…I swiped quickly at my eyes and my nose.

  Oh hell. I was a mess.

  “Are you going to open up or make me stand out here all night watching you cry?”

  I opened the door slightly since the power windows were dead just like everything else. “It’s unlocked.”

  He gave a short nod before walking around the front of the car toward the passenger’s side. He let himself in, along with a giant gust of rainy wind, before slamming the door shut behind him.

  We sat there staring at each other for what felt like an eternity.

  It was probably a few seconds.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked as I wiped at my face and sniffled back snot in a pathetic attempt to hide the fact that I was crying.

  He crossed his arms and shifted back as though making himself comfortable in my passenger seat. “I came out here to ask you the same thing.” He looked around my car like it might have the answers. “What are you still doing out here in the rain?”

  I sniffed. “My car is dead.”

  Oh crap. My voice broke at that last word and I heard him mutter a curse under his breath as I burst out in another hiccupy sob. I slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle it but the gesture was too little too late.

  “Don’t cry.” His voice was gruff and he was looking at me like I was a lunatic, but I thought I detected a note of pleading in that command. “Seriously,” he said, running a hand through his wet hair. “We’ll find you a place to stay until your car’s fixed. Just…don’t cry.”

  I sniffled again, making every effort to stop crying, but I had a bit of a problem. Once I started crying it was hard to stop, one of many reasons I made it a point not to start in the first place. “Where?” I said, gesturing vaguely toward the inn. “There’s no rooms available, and there are no rooms anywhere and—”

  “Bloody idiot,” Jax muttered.

  I gasped, a little too dramatically I’d be the first to admit. “Hey,” I said, jabbing a finger in his direction. “I am not an idiot. I called ahead, I made arrangements. Yes, perhaps I was a bit distracted when I left my lights on but—”

  “I wasn’t talking about you.” Jax had that bored look down pat but now there was a hint of amusement in his eyes that was undeniable.

  “Oh.”

  “I was talking about Bob.”

  Bob. I thought his name with a growl. He was up there on my hate list right alongside this arrogant, unhelpful jerk. “What about Bob?”

  “He was pissed at the managers over some scheduling stuff,” Jax said, looking straight ahead. “Plus he’d reached his breaking point with the annoying customers…”

  He looked over at me in case I hadn’t fully understood that I was one of the annoying customers in question.

  Got it, but thanks for clarifying.

  Jax shrugged. “He probably thought it would be funny to go out leaving the managers in a bind.”

  I stared at him for a minute. “You mean, you think this Bob guy did this to me on purpose?”

  He shrugged again. “Maybe.” He eyed me from head to toe, taking in the long, wet strands of blonde and my sundress that looked far less cute beneath the ugly, oversized Wildwood windbreaker I’d picked up at a corner store. After his perusal he gave a definitive nod. “Yeah, probably.”

  “But why?”

  Jax’s gaze met mine and I was struck by the clarity of his grey eyes. They were dark but bottomless. It was hard to read what was there but I was fairly sure he could see straight into my soul.

  I shivered.

  His eyes were further proof that this guy was the devil incarnate, just in case his actions hadn’t already proven it. But now I knew there was one person, at least, who I despised even more than this sarcastic freak in my passenger seat. “What did I ever do to Bob?” I asked. “I’ve never even met the guy, and I was super nice on the phone.”

  Jax hitched his brows ever so slightly, but it was enough to piss me off.

  I stabbed a finger in his direction as I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t you give me that look. I am charming, dang it. Everyone says so.”

  His nostrils flaring slightly was the only give away that he was amused by my anger. For some reason his lack of a response seemed to make my own responses that much more dramatic, like some part of me was trying to accommodate for his apathy or something.

  “I was nice to you!” It came out as a shout and even I could hear how ludicrous it sounded to be yelling about how nice I was. I took a deep breath and tried again. “I was perfectly nice to you—you were the one being unhelpful.”

  He didn’t respond. Ugh, I hated it when he stared at me like that. Like I was some exhibit at the zoo that he found equally disturbing and fascinating. He watched me like I used to watch the snakes in the terrarium.

  “And Bob,” I said his name with all the anger I felt. Freakin’ Bob. “I was so nice to Bob.”

  “I’m sure you were,” he said mildly. I couldn’t even tell if he was being sarcastic. If he was, it was too subtle.

  I was not in the mood for subtlety. “What do you mean by that?”

  He lifted one shoulder as if even committing to a shrug required too much energy for this disaffected hipster. “Just that being nice doesn’t automatically make it any easier to deal with you people.”

  I blinked a few times, all the self-pity I’d been wallowing in had well and truly been replaced by anger. “You people? What is that supposed to mean.”

  One side of his mouth turned up in a caustic smile. “It means Bob and I spent all last summer watching girls like you parade into town with their daddy’s credit card in hand.”

  I jerked back at the bitterness in his voice.

  “They strut their stuff around the pool and are nice to the staff,” he said.

  I opened my mouth to retort with something angry but an inexplicable urge to laugh just stopped me. “Did you just use air quotes?”

  He had and he knew it. As if the way he’d sneered “nice” hadn’t been enough, he’d used air quotes and somehow that struck me as hilariously lame coming from this too-cool-for-school punk guy.

  His gaze met mine and I swear he almost smiled. His lips twitched oddly and his nostrils flared once more. He was either trying not to laugh or sneeze, but my bet was on laugh.

  “Maybe I did,” he said. “But I think you get my drift.”

  I let out a long breath. I wanted to argue but I just didn’t have it in me. I’d seen the Sunshine Inn. Heck, I’d been the one to pick it out and convinced my parents that a suite at such a nice hotel would be the perfect graduation present.

  The place wasn’t cheap and I imagined the guests tended to be high-maintenance. I fell back against my seat with a sigh. “Yeah, fine, I get it.” I turned my head so I could face him again. “But that doesn’t mean he had any right to take it out on me.”

  Jax met my gaze evenly. “That’s why I called him an idiot.”

  My grudging murmur of acknowledgement lingered in the air between us. He was still staring at me, and I was doing the same to him. We were holding eye contact for so long that it went from normal to weird in a heartbeat. I turned to face forward and stare at the rain-splattered windshield.

  “So,” he said. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him gesture to my dead dashboard. “What’s your plan here? Do you want me to call for a tow truck?”

  “I can do it,” I said. “At least my phone still works.”

  Silence reigned again. I didn’t know how to politely ask him to leave my car when I still wasn’t sure what he was doing out here in the first place. I also didn’t know how to ask him what he was doing out here in the first place when he was being somewhat helpful.

  I mean, offering to call for a tow truck wasn’t exactly heroic, but it was a nice gesture. Then I thought it through and groaned.

  “What?”


  “I don’t have money for a tow truck.” I tilted my head back and looked at the ceiling. I would not cry again. I would not.

  Try telling that to the tears that went rogue and spilled down my cheeks.

  “I take it you don’t have daddy’s credit card?”

  I turned to glare at him but the effect was ruined by the tears. “No, Mr. Judgy, I don’t have my dad’s credit card.”

  His eyebrows twitched up at the nickname but he didn’t say anything.

  Between the sudden silence and the fact that my stupid tear ducts were out of control, I found myself babbling away. “My parents paid for the hotel suite for the week but that’s my big graduation gift. I couldn’t exactly ask for a credit card, too. They don’t have a lot to spare. The only money I have is my spending money for the week, which I took out of my savings and—” I cut myself of with an embarrassing hiccup.

  Jax cursed again. “Don’t cry. Seriously.”

  I swiped at the tears and focused on that funny note in his voice, subtle but there. “What, are you one of those guys who’s afraid of tears?” I’d been kidding but when I glanced over, he was watching me with such blatant horror, it made me laugh out loud. “Oh my God, you are.”

  “It’s just…” He gestured to my face like it was the grossest thing he’d ever seen. “It’s freaking me out.”

  “Yeah,” I said, giving a water laugh through my tears. “I can see that.”

  “We’ll fix this, okay?” he said. “We’ll figure it out.” The subtext was, just stop crying. For the love of God, stop crying.

  “Sorry,” I said, sniffling again. “It’s just been a bad day.” That made me laugh again—there was every chance I was becoming hysterical, what with the exhaustion and the tears and the accumulation of the past six months’ worth of crap. “It’s been a bad year.”

  He made a noise beside me. Little more than a huff of air but it was enough to make me turn and face him. Was that…was that a laugh?

  Sure enough, my very own punk-rock jerk had a very small smile on his lips as he watched me. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

  I swallowed convulsively as our eyes met again and that smile—that teeny tiny twist of his lips—hit me straight in the solar plexus like a punch. He was objectively attractive. I mean, punk rockers weren’t typically my thing but no one in their right mind would say he wasn’t attractive.

  But with the hint of a smile softening his features, making his eyes lighten and giving him an air of approachability?

  Oh goodness gracious.

  The air in the car grew too thick to breathe and I licked my lips as I struggled for a normal inhale and exhale.

  Holy cow.

  Maybe that’s why this guy showed no emotions. Maybe every time he did, girls went and fell at his feet.

  Sure enough, the hint of a smile faded and he was back to being aloof and cold. “Don’t you have an emergency credit card or something?” He frowned at me like he was disappointed in me. “You should always have something in case of emergencies when you’re traveling.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” I said, my tone sullen and bordering on bratty. But seriously, talk about too little too late. That advice might have been helpful this morning, or really any other time than the present.

  He shifted to face me, his gaze roaming over me again but in an objective way like he was just now seeing me for the first time. “Don’t you have a boyfriend or some friends who could come get you?”

  I shook my head. “My friends are two hours away and I couldn’t ask them to drive here in the middle of the night and in the pouring rain.”

  After a pause, he asked, “And no boyfriend who can come to your rescue?”

  I sniffed as I tried to swallow down another wave of self-pity. “First of all, I don’t need a boyfriend to rescue me. I can rescue myself.”

  I’d tilted my chin up as I said it and I caught that telltale twitch of Jax’s lips that said I was entertaining to him.

  Oh joy.

  “And second, he broke up with me two months ago so even if I did want some knight in shining armor to rush to my aid—which I don’t—he would definitely not be on my call list.”

  I don’t know why I explained all this to this guy. Maybe because I was stranded. Oh crap. That thought brought with it the panicky sensation that I knew without a doubt would be followed closely with more tears.

  I widened my eyes further and focused on his eyes. I probably looked like a crazy person with the bug eyes and the intense stare but it was the only way to keep the tears at bay. Judging by his earlier response, he’d thank me for the effort.

  Think, I ordered my brain. Make a plan. That was what I did. I was a planner. A scheduler. A list maker. I could do this.

  I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. I was not stranded. I had family and friends who knew where I was. I had a phone. One of them could come get me in the morning, if all else failed.

  I still recoiled at the idea. My best friends didn’t even know I was here—I’d figured I’d tell them after I’d gotten settled in and they couldn’t try to talk me out of it.

  To clarify, they were both on board with my plan to get Ted back, but these past few days they’d been acting weird about my game plan to win him back. They probably didn’t want to see me getting hurt again, which was sweet but unnecessary. And if I called my parents, they’d give me a lecture I so didn’t need about responsibility and traveling on my own and blah blah blah. There might even be a chance that they’d ban me from coming back for Senior Week if they decided to go full-on overprotective.

  I stared at the steering wheel and ordered the panic to subside so my brain could function properly. I didn’t have the money for a tow truck, but then again, I didn’t even need a tow truck. I knew what the problem was and I knew how to fix it. This was not the first time my old beater had gone dead on me, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

  I just needed some jumper cables. That thought brought with it a certain amount of ease. I liked that plan better. I preferred to help myself than calling for assistance.

  When I turned to face Jax, I found him watching me warily, probably afraid that I was going to cry again.

  “Do you have jumper cables?” I asked suddenly.

  He shook his head. “No car, sorry.” After a minute, he added, “But a friend of mine has some. He can help you out in the morning.”

  I nodded. See? I had a plan. And Mr. Unhelpful here had actually proved useful for once. “Perfect,” I said, sounding far more upbeat than I actually felt. But I did feel better, and that I could work with. I had a plan. Which meant that everything else could be salvaged—Senior Week, Operation Win Back Ted…it was all happening.

  “You look psychotic,” my helpful new friend pointed out, his tone flat and not even remotely teasing.

  My eyes were still so wide they hurt so I blinked a few times and let go of my death grip on the steering wheel. “I don’t feel psychotic,” I informed him politely. “I feel like I have a plan.”

  I was looking at my hands on the wheel so I couldn’t tell for certain but I thought he sounded amused. “Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

  “First thing tomorrow I will get your friend’s jumper cables and get my car back on the road.”

  “And then?” he asked.

  “Then I’ll head back home and come back with my friends on Wednesday, as planned.”

  I frowned and apparently he caught it.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I gave a little shrug. “Nothing, just…” I let out a sigh. This guy would never understand. “The whole reason I came here early was so I could make sure everything was perfect.”

  “For what?”

  I turned to face him. “Senior Week. My whole senior class will be here and I’m the one in charge of organizing and…” I trailed off at the look of disgust on his face

  Sure enough, he didn’t get it.

  Something told me he’d outright laugh in my face if I continued and t
old him about my grand plan to stage the perfect moment for my ex and I to have our epic reunion kiss. He hardly seemed like a romantic, and I was officially over being the source of this guy’s amusement for the night.

  I dropped my head back against my car door with a sigh. “You know what, forget it. You clearly don’t care.”

  “About your Senior Week? No, you’re right, I don’t.” The way he stressed ‘Senior Week’ said it made it sound asinine and I turned to him with a glare.

  He ignored it, already turning to let himself out of my car.

  Good. Great. I dropped my head back against my seat again, hoping to miraculously get comfortable while sitting upright so maybe, just maybe, I could ignore the cold, damp clothes and the chill that was seeping into my bones long enough to doze for a bit.

  I heard the passenger car door slam shut but my eyes were closed. I ignored the chill that seemed to grow ten times more frigid at the lack of another human body in the car.

  I was alone. And I would be for hours.

  I shivered.

  Awesome.

  What was about to be a rapid descent into another bout of self-pity was cut short when my driver’s side door was jerked open, letting in a gust of frigid, rainy wind. “What the…” I sputtered, sitting up straight to see that Jax was holding my door open and glowering down at me like I’d just ruined his night.

  Maybe I had.

  “Come on,” he said, before turning and walking back toward the hotel.

  I scrambled out so quickly it made me annoyed with myself. What was I, a puppy? I just came running when this guy beckoned? “Where are we going?”

  He didn’t stop walking and I couldn’t entirely blame him. It was freakin’ cold and the rain felt like ice on my face.

  “You’re coming home with me,” he said as we reached the doors to the hotel and he held one open for me.

  I led the way in as I hunched in on myself with a shiver. Oh hell, my teeth were starting to chatter. “You live at the hotel?”

  I caught his smirk as he walked past me. “Not quite.”