“Oh, the car is starting to smell like it’s full of shit.” I laugh, and I’m surprised when she does too. She glances at me through the rearview mirror.
“It’s Alana,” she says quietly.
“Alana…I like that name.” I give her a flirtatious smile but I’m feeling frustrated. Usually my charm works a lot better on girls but right now it’s failing miserably…and the more it does, the more I’m intrigued.
“You’re cute, I admit that, but I’m not your type.”
“Who said I was flirting with you?” I retort. Her grin softens and her grey eyes narrow in on mine. I swallow hard.
“You’re not flirting with me?” she asks in a pretty cocky manner, her voice low and seductive.
“I’d have to be an idiot to flirt with a girl who kicked me in the nuts and is driving a stolen car,” I tell her, as well as myself, and she bites the corner of her lip.
“You’d be insane, too,” she agrees with me happily. My eyes glide over her body. She’s so freakin hot, and the crazy thing is it turns me on a little. I look up and see a rest stop five miles away.
“Can we stop there? I’m starving,” I ask, and she shoots me an amused glare.
“You have your wallet?” she asks accusingly.
“Come on, I know you can spare five bucks to buy a guy—who you just kicked in the nuts—a sandwich,” I say accusingly, holding back a laugh.
“Okay but you’re ordering off the value menu,” she says, irritated. She pulls into the rest stop but there’s only a Red Lobster, a Burger King, and a Subway that’s closed.
“I could really go for their fried shrimp.” She scowls at me. “Or a burger and fries sound good,” I relent. We pull into the drive-through; she places the order and pulls out a bill from her back pocket, handing it to the worker in the window.
“Hold on, I don’t think we have this much to give back change,” the cashier says, holding it up to see if it’s real. I can’t help but wonder why she’d be carrying around a hundred dollar bill. I dig in my pocket and hand her a twenty. She takes it from me and exchanges it with the employee, stuffing her money back in her pocket before handing me the food.
“I thought I’d have change,” I remind her, and she just smiles at me.
“I thought you didn’t have any money,” she points out.
“Now I don’t know if you’re a stripper or a miser.” Her eyebrow arches.
“Miser? What are you, an old English professor?” She laughs before driving off. I tear into my burger and watch as she stuffs a fry in her mouth.
“I’m running so behind,” she mutters with a sigh. “Where do you need to be dropped off? Actually, just put it in my GPS.” She hands me her phone.
“I thought you’d just drop me off on a random corner in the city.”
“That does sound like a much better idea, but you might cry or something,” she teases dryly.
We’re both quiet the rest of the drive but it’s not awkward like it can be when first meeting someone. It’s comfortable and kind of perfect. Her silence is almost as good as when she speaks. It gives me time to take in her energy, which is so different from when she’s talking. Time goes by so fast that we’re back in the city and only a few minutes from my cousin Travis’ house.
I’m anxious now, the clock has started. I don’t have a number, and I hope her name is real, but it feels like I’m about to walk away from a checkpoint in my life, and she’s a crossroad—one that will lead me down two different paths. This girl is the absolute last person I should want to get to know but there’s something about her, something that’s different from any girl I’ve ever met. I know it’ll haunt me if I leave it here. She’s the kind of conundrum that guys on their death beds still think of asking themselves what if?
We pull down the block and in front of the three-apartment building my uncle owns. My cousin and I have been allowed to stay on the top floor as long as he’s in school.
“This looks like your stop.” She puts the car in park. I watch her as her eyes scan the neighborhood.
“You don’t plan on coming back and robbing anyone?” I joke. She gives me a dismissive grin. I’m stalling for time, at least trying to get some information so I can find her on Facebook. I don’t have a Facebook but Travis does and he’s going to owe me even after the ass kicking I give him.
“Do you live here? In Chicago, I mean?” I ask her before getting out.
“Not really,” she says noncommittally, looking at her nails.
“Thanks for the ride,” I tell her, opening the door. But I can’t get out. Not without asking her at least. I can’t let her sit in my head as the one that got away, even though my brain is telling me to let this go. I meet beautiful women all the time, girls who are normal and looking to have a good time, who aren’t crazy, but I feel glued to her.
“Go out with me.” She lets out a long, almost irritated sigh, like she gets asked this question every day of her life. Not to toot my own horn, but she’s never been asked out by a guy like me before.
“I don’t date guys like you!” She laughs hysterically but her eyes don’t leave mine, and I take advantage.
“Guys like me?” I feign innocence, leaning in just a little bit closer to her.
“You don’t know what type of guy I am, except one that didn’t pull off and leave you unconscious on the side of the road. I think that gives me a few points.”
“That’s exactly what I mean.” This time she’s not smiling and she looks away from me. I frown, confused. I thought I’d have to convince her I wasn’t a manwhore womanizer.
“You have a heart, and I’m not exactly gentle with them,” she says this so seriously that it sends a shiver through my spine.
“I’m not made of glass, sweetheart,” I tell her with a chuckle. I expect her to give me a smug retort but instead her eyes only glitter with reluctance, but that smug mischievous glint is back.
“Give me your number,” she says with a roll of her eyes. I take her phone and call mine with hers. She eyes me almost suspiciously and I flash her an innocent grin. Our gazes lock and if she wasn’t the girl she showed me earlier, I’d kiss those full plump lips…but this girl might elbow me in the throat.
“Time to get out,” she almost sings, unlocking the car doors.
“Don’t call me, I’ll call you.” She grins at me before pulling off down the street like a speed racer.
She’s the rudest girl I’ve ever met…but I think I’m in love with her…or in lust…probably the latter.
Chapter 2
Megan
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you put on makeup before!” Gabriella gushes, leaning in the bathroom doorway and watching while I do my best to look good.
Looking good is usually the problem.
We’ve lived together for about a year since the thing happened with my last roommate. This one works nights in customer service for a company I forgot the name of, has a full-time class load, and spends the rest of her time at her boyfriend’s place. I knew all of this before I moved in which was why I prayed so hard to get the apartment. My space has been important to me since I’ve had to share so much of it all my life. Gabriella grew up in small house, having to share one room with her other sisters, so she understands the luxury of privacy and space.