“What? You don’t even wanna peek underneath the hood to try and pretend like you know what might be wrong with the car? Isn’t that a typical guy move in this situation?” The words come out before I can stop them, way snarkier than I intended them to be. I cross my arms over my chest, and tuck my frozen fingers underneath my upper arms in hopes of keeping them warm.
He gives me a knowing look but doesn’t bite back. “You wound me, babe. You should know by now that I have better moves than that. Besides, it’s cold as fuck and darker than a rat’s nest out here.” He tilts his head to the side. “C’mon. I’ll take you home, and tomorrow we can come and see what’s going on under the hood.”
Slowly, I move toward his car. “So what you’re trying to say is that you know something about cars, but you’re too lazy to look now?”
He narrows his eyes at me, but there is a tick in the corner of his mouth, saying he’s fighting a laugh. “Do you want to walk back to campus?”
“You wouldn’t.” I stop in front of the passenger door and look over the hood at him.
He’s casually dressed, which should look lazy and take away some of his appeal, but it doesn’t. Of course, it doesn’t. Jeans and a hoodie fit him perfectly, and with his hair mussed like he just woke up and a few days of stubble covering his jaw, he looks like sex on a stick.
Seriously, Yas? Get a grip.
As if he can read my mind, Nixon lifts his brows, that smirk of his popping out to play. “You keep that sass up, and you’ll find out for yourself.”
Glaring at him, I take my sweet time opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat. He wouldn’t actually leave me, at least I don’t think he would.
The car is already warm and cozy, and I sigh happily as I snuggle inside. Nixon lowers into the driver’s seat and pulls the car out onto the road.
Now that I’m safely inside and warming up, I turn to him. “You wouldn’t have left me, now would you?”
“Oh, I totally would.” Nixon laughs at my gaping mouth. “Okay, I wouldn’t have left you. But I would make you walk all the way to campus while I’d trail after you in the car.”
I punch him in the shoulder. “You, Nixon Cole, are an asshole.”
“That’s not what you said the last time.”
His words should be teasing, but the look he gives me is anything but. Our eyes meet for a moment, the small space sizzling with something. I’m not sure what, or even if I want to name it. He holds my stare for more than is appropriate given the fact that we’re sitting in a moving car and he’s behind the wheel, but I can’t let go.
A soft buzzing sound spreads through the car, startling us. I slide my hand in my pocket but realize my phone is silent.
“I think your phone is vibrating,” I say, looking around for the source of the noise.
Nixon looks at the rearview mirror, and sure enough, the screen of his phone peeking from the pocket of his jacket on the back seat is lit.
He returns his attention to the road. “Can you grab it for me?”
“Um, sure.”
I try to reach for it, but the seatbelt is poking me in the chest. Sighing, I unbuckle my seatbelt and turn around to grab the phone.
“Who is it?”
Sitting back in the passenger seat, I turn the screen face up and look at it. A photo of a gorgeous young girl, probably a few years younger than us, stares back at me. She has the biggest, brightest, most innocent smile I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Smalls.” My voice sounds off even to my own ears as I read the name on the screen. It sounds familiar, but it takes me a moment to connect the dots.
Smalls. The girl Nixon was talking to the night of the championship game. The girl who brings out a side of Nixon I’ve never seen him show to anybody on campus.
I love you too.
I hand him the phone because looking at her is like a punch to my gut. My stomach clenches tightly, bile rising in my throat.
He’s a player, what were you thinking?
I should have known better, but after that night at his house, it seemed like things with Nixon were finally settling down. Yeah, I still gave him a hard time since there were moments when the pull to do it was stronger than me, but he didn’t take it the wrong way. It actually seems like he finds it amusing.
Only there is nothing amusing about this moment right now.
The connection that we shared only seconds ago is completely broken by reality. I’m not sure why I’m affected like I am right now. It shouldn’t matter. Nixon Cole doesn’t belong to me. Hell, I don’t want him to. Yet I can’t help but wonder...
Who is she? What is the connection between them? And more importantly, what is she to him?
It’s none of your business, I try to reason with myself as I turn my head to look out the window. None of your goddamn business.
I try not to listen to his side of the conversation, but it’s hard not to since we’re sitting so close together.
“What is it, Smalls?” Tenderness and worry mix in his voice as he answers her call. His emotions are so strong they’re almost palpable.
Whatever she says has him straightening in his seat. “What? Okay, I’m on my way.”
He hangs up, and throws the phone onto the console as he checks the rearview mirror and turns on the blinker.
“Where are you going?” I ask, when I see him switching to the interstate instead of going back to campus, but he doesn’t say anything. His jaw is set tight, eyes glued to the road. “Nixon? Where are you going? You were supposed to take me to campus.”
“I have something to take care of,” he grits. His whole body is still, fingers clenching the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are drained of all color.
“Then take me back. Hell, leave me here, and I’ll walk the rest of the way back.”
There is no way I’m going with him wherever he’s going. Not if she is there. The girl who seems to have him wrapped around her finger like that. The girl who gets that tender, protective side I haven’t seen him show to anybody but her. No way.
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Well, I’m not going.”
He turns to me, giving me a hard look. “Well, you don’t have any other choice.” With that he presses his foot harder on the gas.
“Nixon!” I try to protest, but it’s no use, he’s completely tuned me out.
He’s driving like a maniac, and I can only hope that he doesn’t crash us into something.
Since it’s late on a weeknight, the interstate is blessedly empty as we speed by, our surroundings just a dark blur.
Nixon’s deadly quiet, and I don’t waste my words since I know he won’t listen. I’m not even sure he can hear me at this point. He’s stuck in his own head; whatever has happened, whatever the girl said, it did something to him.
I’m not sure how long it takes before he steers us off the interstate and onto another road. The headlights of his car illuminate the welcome sign.
I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around the door handle. Is this where she lives?
Different scenarios go through my head, my heart racing with all the possibilities, but I don’t dare ask.
Nixon turns on the blinker and takes the next right turn. The gravel crackles underneath the tires as he drives up the narrow road. Just when I decide he’s gone mad, I see it.