Part 20 (2/2)
”It's cold and wet. What the h.e.l.l kind of a question is that?”
I glanced over at her. She was leaning against the door, glaring at me.
”Tell me,” I said.
She looked at me dismissively. ”Why don't you put on some music? Loud.”
We have to stop meeting like this (Julia) Crank was right. I was being a complete b.i.t.c.h. It was self-defense, really. Because the more time I spent around him, the more I felt my defenses falling to pieces. It wasn't that he was hot. I mean-I've been around hot guys. They're nice to look at, but they don't make me feel like this. It was his smile, his charm, his sense of humor. Inside that hard-a.s.s exterior, he was compa.s.sionate. Insanely protective of his brother. I wanted to laugh at his smart aleck comments, and I wanted to touch the dimple in the corner of his mouth. I wanted to hug him and heal the hurt that had damaged him.
I wanted to run away as quickly as I could. Because it was all I could do to keep a grip on who I was.
He did as I asked and turned on the stereo. Nine Inch Nails' ”Closer” suddenly blasted out. Jesus. I almost broke out into a sweat. How did he do that? The driving ba.s.s blasted through the car, one of the s.e.xiest, angriest songs I've ever heard. I closed my eyes, still leaning against the door, and bobbed my head along with the music. It was l.u.s.t and rage and hunger all wrapped up in a bow. So very much not what I needed to be listening to right now. But so much how I felt.
A big part of me wanted to just say, screw it. Screw my reservations. Screw my walls. Give in. Give in to him. Not just for a date, but tell him to pull the d.a.m.n car over right now and climb on top of him and slowly unb.u.t.ton his s.h.i.+rt while I chewed on his ear. This music was not helping at all.
I was jarred back to reality when Crank cursed suddenly and slapped the radio off. I opened my eyes and realized the car was sliding, and I nearly screamed. I reached out, grabbing the dashboard with both hands, bracing as we slid toward a tree. But a second later, he got it under control.
”Sorry,” he said. ”I think the temperature must have dropped. A lot. Patch of ice.”
We were coming up Ma.s.s Ave now, close to campus. This definitely looked like a Nor'easter, dumping snow and ice very fast now. It was two or three inches deep already and getting deeper by the minute. Crank was wrestling with the wheel, overcompensating, which was making the car slide way too much for comfort.
”I thought Boston drivers were supposed to be all that,” I said.
He looked over at me with a fierce grin on his face. ”I've been taking the T all my life. Practically just got my license.”
”Please don't get me killed.”
He laughed. ”I'll try not to. We're almost to the campus, which way?”
I peered ahead. The snow was coming down thick enough it was hard to see very far. ”Past the campus. Keep going, it's about five blocks up, then take a left.”
He nodded, concentrating on driving, both hands on the wheel and leaning forward to see.
”Slow down,” I said, as we got closer.
He glanced at me, simultaneously looking amused and annoyed I was being bossy. Screw him. I wanted to live. A moment later, he slowly turned off of Ma.s.sachusetts Ave just as a city bus went racing past, splattering Crank's car with snow and slush. Yuck.
”That's just wrong,” he muttered as the bus blasted past.
”See the lot up there on the left?” I asked, pointing.
”Yeah.”
”Park in there.”
”If I park, I'm not getting out of there again.”
”You can't drive any more in this ... especially not all the way to Roxbury.”
”Is this a private lot?”
”I've got a guest pa.s.s in my car.”
He nodded. ”All right.”
Very slowly, he turned into the lot. I could feel the car sliding again as he took the turn, but the wheels got a grip again, and we surged forward, into another slide.
”c.r.a.p,” he muttered.
”Stop,” I said.
”Trying!” he said, his voice raised.
”Stop!” I yelled.
The car just kept going, sliding forward, the tail end of my car looming in front of us, bigger and bigger, a slow-motion slide.
He yanked the wheel over to the side, trying to divert us, but it was too late. With a sickening crash that lurched us both forward against our seatbelts, he crashed into the rear end of my car.
We stopped.
I slumped back in my seat and closed my eyes. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be.
”I can't look,” I said.
”It's bad,” he replied.
”We're still alive,” I said hopefully.
I opened one eye. The back of my car and the front of Crank's were hopelessly crumpled. Steam was rising in a great cloud from the front of his car. Radiator must have ruptured.
”Oh, G.o.d,” I said.
”You know,” he said, just a little bit of mischief in his voice. ”We have to stop meeting like this.”
I broke into laughter. Hysterical laughter, actually. With tears running down my cheeks. He grinned, apparently happy that I wasn't screaming at him.
We both opened our doors at the same time, and a blast of cold air hit me, freezing the tears onto my cheeks instantly. The temperature had dropped a lot since we'd left the beach. My laughter evaporated, and my heart sank, as I looked at the extent of the damage. The entire back end of my car was ... crushed. The front of Crank's was only marginally better.
”That's not good,” he said.
”I guess I deserve it for wrecking your other car.”
He snickered.
”Stop laughing, it's not funny,” I said. But his face was so bemused, that I couldn't help but laugh myself. ”Oh, G.o.d,” I said, groaning. ”My parents are going to kill me.”
<script>