Her boots clicked on the floor as she left, an occasional glance over her shoulder the only sign that she had more questions. Lots more.
My gaze went to Max, his clean shaven jaw, damp hair, and clothes a reminder of his upcoming work at the Parker farm that afternoon.
“I figured it’d be easier to go straight from school,” he said when he caught my stare.
A long-sleeve black T-shirt with Vincent’s on the front covered his chest, the top hanging over old, sturdy jeans.
“We’re together?” The question slipped out of my mouth.
His eyes searched mine. “Aren’t we?”
Shifting my books to one arm, I slammed my locker door closed. “I think so?”
“I’d like to be,” he rushed to say.
I stared. “Me, too.”
He grinned. “Good. Are you okay? I mean after … you know.”
Daylight had cut out our tongues, making it harder to be frank.
My cheeks flamed. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Without another word, Heathcliff took my books, gently extracting them from my arms. “What’s your first class?”
It seemed weird that we didn’t know each other’s schedules, our relationship up until now based on our feet, last period, work on the plantation, and the illnesses in our families.
“French.”
“French?” he asked, surprised.
I shrugged. “It’s my second year taking it. I have a thing for languages. I have a collection of CDs at home, each one teaching a different one.”
“Really?” he asked as we walked.
I smiled. “Want me to speak to you in Italian or Portuguese?”
He laughed. “No, I’m good thanks. It’s cool though. That you’re learning them, I mean.”
The door to my first class was fast approaching, and I glanced at him. “What do you do? Something not many people know about?”
He eyed me. “You really want to know?” I nodded, and he threw a look down the hall before meeting my gaze. “Ditch school with me at lunch, and I’ll show you.”
“Okay.”
With a wink, he left me at the door. Curious looks glanced off of me as students passed. The stares didn’t matter. Not now. Too much in my life was changing. Too fast. Some of the changes filled me with an indescribable need for speed. Some of them made me wish there were more hours in a day, more months in a year. Others made me wish time would stop altogether. Time was a friend and an enemy.
My distracted thoughts followed me into French, my gaze on the clock, the things running through my head keeping me from focusing. Excited anticipation carried me through the hour to my second class, the one I shared with Rebecca. It was then my preoccupation hurt me, the distraction causing me to say yes to things she asked that I’d probably regret later. There were some murmured words about a trip to town that ended with a slip of paper and my home phone number.
“You don’t have a cell?” she asked, startled. My head shook, and she gaped at me. “Everyone has a cell phone. Aren’t land lines like mostly extinct?” I’d shrugged, relief flooding me when the bell rang.
The next three classes were a blissful blur, and I rushed from fifth period only to stumble into Heathcliff.
He steadied me with a laugh. “Going somewhere? Not in a hurry are you?”
Taking my books, he deposited them into my locker before leading me to his truck. My stomach churned as I climbed in, mainly because I’d never done anything like this, brash and unexpected.
He climbed behind the wheel, his tires squealing as he backed up and tore out of the parking lot. Wind rushed into my face through the open windows, ripping through my hair and clearing my head.
Heathcliff threw me a grin, his teeth flashing as he sped over blacktop, turning down the nearest back road, the concrete below transforming into dirt. His speed increased, his truck taking turns that had me lost in minutes.
I was on the verge of asking where we were going when he pulled into a short drive, the only thing in front of us a small storage building.
“It used to belong to my grandfather,” Heathcliff told me as he switched off the engine. “His hooch, he called it. Some type of military slang. When he passed, Mams gave me permission to use it.” Throwing open his door, he climbed out and rounded the truck, his gaze meeting mine as he helped me out. “This was Paps’ escape, just a place to go when he needed to get away or wanted a place to play a little poker with his friends.”
Overgrown, brown grass rustled against our jeans as we walked to the structure. It was a good size, larger than most sheds, but way smaller than any house. Heathcliff pulled a key from his pocket, using it to undo a padlock before throwing open the door. He hit a light switch inside, a dim glow filling the space, and I gasped.