“It would probably be more comfortable to wait in here,” she replied haughtily.
“But there’s something I want to show you in my car,” he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “It’s right there,” he said, pointing to his truck just a few cars down from the Dungeon’s front door.
She hesitated, watching the rain fall in sheets outside the coffee shop windows.
“I won’t kidnap you. . . .” Then he added with a smile, “Even though I’d like to.” Rolling her eyes, she nodded her consent.
The rain was coming down so hard that by the time they climbed into the cab of Crow’s truck, she was soaked through.
The pickup smelled of wool and wood. Crow ran a hand through his wet black hair, then hooked his iPod up to the car speakers. The song that began to play was beautiful and mournful, one that seemed to perfectly match the gray day. She looked out the passenger-side window, watching the drops dance in the puddles and stream down the glass.
“Good thing I like purple,” Crow said, and she turned to look at him quizzically. Then, the blush spreading from her ears to her cheeks to her neck, she realized what he was talking about—her bra. It was purple, and also completely visible through her wet shirt. The bra she’d purchased this Christmas, while obsessing over Zach. Em moved to cover herself, Drea’s words rushing back: He has a crush on you.
“Relax,” Crow said with a smirk. “I understand that members of the female species wear bras.” He craned his neck to see what was stuffed behind the front seats and rifled through his messenger bag. He clearly couldn’t find whatever it was he was looking for. Instead, with a sigh, he struggled out of his sweatshirt and started easing off his own shirt, a gray long-sleeved polo, which had stayed dry underneath.
Em watched with fascinated horror, unable to miss the fact that as he derobed the music seemed to swell. “Oh, no, you don’t have to—I’m fine.”
“While you do appear to be cold-blooded,” he said, making her think of Gabby’s recent observations, “I am not going to permit the Ice Princess of Ascension High to get pneumonia on my watch. I’ll be stoned to death! Just take it.” He thrust the shirt at her, and she caught a whiff of its boyness, like cloves and soap and fire.
“You really don’t have to—” He put up his hand to cut her off, and she saw that underneath his right arm Crow had a snake tattoo along the side of his body. He was skinny, but his muscles were well defined. He threw his sweatshirt back on over his bare chest.
“Just put it on. This back-and-forth is boring,” he said, and leaned forward to fiddle with his iPod.
Em realized that he was pretending to be busy so that she could change without feeling embarrassed. It was . . . gentlemanly. Still, she swiveled around and faced the rain-streaked window as she wriggled out of her wet shirt and into Crow’s dry one, praying no one from school happened to pass by their corner of the lot.
“I came here in the first place looking for Drea,” she decided to tell him. “She wasn’t in school yesterday or today, and she won’t pick up my calls. She’s kind of MIA.”
“Classic Feiffer,” Crow said. “She’s pretty hard to track. She’ll come back, and she’ll be fine. Then you can go back to watching Buffy marathons or whatever you girls do.” For just a second Crow dropped the smile and looked serious. “Her mom died when she was young. I think that’s why she has her dark days.”
Em shivered, even in the warm, dry shirt.
“Em,” he said, and his voice was different now, without the sarcastic lilt. “There’s something I want to tell you.”
Em’s heart started beating faster.
He hesitated, but no words came.
“Yeah?”
“Oh, um, you look good in gray.”
She was sure that wasn’t what he’d wanted to say, but she didn’t want to pry further. In the quiet, their breath began to fog up the car windows.
Then the music ended abruptly. He leaned forward and began scrolling through the iPod again. The moment had passed. Em felt strangely disappointed. Crow turned on a new song, and the music changed, to something even more lovely—a lone guitar, picking a strange melody against droning background chords.
“This music is amazing,” Em said, balling up her white shirt and putting it on the dashboard. “Who is it?” She pulled her damp hair into a low, wet bun.
Crow coughed. “It’s . . . it’s me. It’s not finished yet. I’m still working on it. I can’t quite see where it should go yet.”
Em was momentarily speechless. “Wow. That’s awesome, Crow. You’re really talented.”
“Don’t sound so surprised, princess,” he said shortly. “Just because I’m a high school dropout doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.”
“That’s not . . .” But she didn’t bother defending herself. She could see he was just playing with her. His eyes were smiling.