I so want to talk to him.
He laughs and practically leans out the driver’s side window. “Now that’s a loaded question.”
Rolling my eyes, I slowly approach his vehicle, a beat-up old truck that’s probably seen better days, and those days were a long-ass time ago. I tell myself I shouldn’t do this. Someone might see us—who, I’m not sure. All I’m doing is talking to him. Big deal. Is that such a crime?
Look at me mentally arguing with myself.
The passenger window is open and I lean into it, wrinkling my nose when the scent hits me. Ash is propped between the driver’s seat and door, his gaze hooded, with what I think is a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Or maybe a joint, I don’t know, so I decide to ask. “Are you smoking a joint on school property?”
“No.” He plucks the cigarette from his mouth and shakes his head, laughing. “When did you turn into such a prim little maiden, Callahan?”
I can’t even believe he called me a prim little maiden. Who says that? “Then what are you smoking?”
“Just a plain ol’ cigarette. Looking for that nicotine rush,” he says, as if that’s the most logical answer ever. “I’m guessing since you can’t distinguish between the two, you’ve never smoked a joint before?”
“No.” No one I know smokes actual joints. They all use wax pens, not that I ever have. Drugs scare me. Mom’s preaching against them actually worked, at least with me.
“Have you ever vaped?”
“Ew, no.” I shake my head. Thank God Ben isn’t into vaping, though I know a few of his friends are. We’ve gone to parties together and drunk alcohol, but I’m always a little scared of losing control, so I keep it in check. “You?”
“No.” He sucks on the cigarette and then blows the smoke out, filling the cab of his truck. “That shit will kill you.”
Ah, the irony.
“And cigarettes won’t.” My voice is flat. I don’t know why we’re having this conversation. It’s pointless.
It’s like my feet are rooted to the spot, though. I haven’t talked to him in almost a year. A year. That’s insane.
“Not as fast as a fucking vape will. Don’t you watch the news?” He doesn’t give me time to answer. “Besides.” He shrugs, leaning forward to stub out the cigarette in the ashtray that’s near the gearshift. “I’ll quit before I turn twenty.”
“If you’re still alive by then.” The moment the words leave me, I feel bad. That was rude as hell to say to someone, even Ash.
But he’s not offended. He’s grinning at me like a big dope. “Nothing can kill me. I’m invincible. Didn’t you see me out there?”
I’m guessing he’s still feeling high from their win tonight. “You played a good game,” I admit reluctantly.
“Took everything out of you to tell me that, didn’t it?” His smile widens, if that’s possible, and it’s a sight to see. He’s usually scowling when I see him on campus. Scowling on the football field right before he throws another amazing pass. Scowling whenever I pass him in the hallway or see him in the quad at lunch. Scowling in class—though we don’t have any classes together this year, so I can’t confirm if that’s true or not.
Did I mention he transferred out of chemistry a week after our infamous makeout session? Yep, he sure did.
The coward.
When he’s not scowling, he’s got his tongue shoved down some other girl’s throat. Usually during lunch. It’s enough to make me want to lose my actual lunch, every time I see his possessive hands on a girl, their lips locked. It’s so disgusting.
He’s so disgusting.
He’s all the rage, and I hate him for it.
“No. I can admit when you’ve played a good game,” I tell him, hoping he sees that he has no effect on me whatsoever.
“Gee, thanks.” He goes quiet, contemplating me. The way he watches me makes me want to squirm, and I wish I wasn’t still in my cheer uniform. I feel super exposed right now. “Want to join me?”
“What? No.” I stand up straight, my fingers still curled around the edge of the window. “I should go.”
I need to go. I release my hold on the old glass, taking a step backward.
“What’s the rush? Benny’s not in town.” The look in his eyes is a dare.
How the hell does he know this? Though we do go to a small school, so everyone knows everyone else’s business. “I have to get home.”
“Curfew?” He raises a brow, like a challenge.
“Not really.” I shrug one shoulder. I’m lying. My parents want me home by midnight at the absolute latest, though there’s a state curfew for new drivers like me and technically I shouldn’t be driving after eleven.
“Then get in.” He waves at the door. “Let’s catch up.”
I take one step closer as I contemplate him, my hand automatically going for the door handle. I shouldn’t do this. If I knew Ben was in a car with another girl, a girl he’d kissed before but never got around to telling me about it, I’d be mad.
Really mad.
“Come on.” Ash’s voice softens. “You know you want to.”
Another dare.
Without thought I open the door and climb inside, falling onto the bench seat with a huff. I pull the creaky door shut, slamming it so hard the cab rattles from the force of it. Ash just studies me, seemingly surprised I’m actually inside his truck. My skirt rides up and I tug it back down as best I can, but my thighs are basically on full display and I feel totally exposed.
“You’re a little rebel, aren’t you?” He grabs the half-full pack of cigarettes from the dashboard and tugs one out, placing it in his mouth before a lighter magically appears. He holds it to the tip of the cigarette until it catches flame, then flicks off the lighter and tosses it onto the dash.
“I thought you had matches.” I’m so lame for bringing this up, but I swore he lit a match when I first noticed him.
“I did. I do. I have matches, lighters—you name it, I light that shit on fire.” He takes a drag from the cigarette, then averts his head, blowing the smoke out the window.
I think he did that for me, but I’m not going to look into it too much.
“I’m surprised you’re not an arsonist.” My tone is snotty, and I cross my arms, increasingly uncomfortable with how close we’re sitting next to each other. I should leave. In fact, I’m reaching for the door handle, ready to make my escape, when he starts talking.
“I was an arsonist. When I was six.” That’s all he says. Just keeps taking drags on that cigarette, filling his lungs with smoke, blowing it out the window. Again and again. I can hear his lips making a sucking sound and the burn of the paper, and finally I can’t stand it any longer.
I have to say something.
“What do you mean?”
Ash launches into his story right away. Makes me think he was just waiting for me to ask.
“I started a fire up by the lake. Not too far from your house, actually.” He stares off into the distance, the memory coming back to him, I guess. “I liked fire. I always have. It fascinates me. I found my dad’s lighter and I kept playing with it. Then I basically stole it. My parents were too busy arguing all the time to notice what I was doing, and I decided I wanted to make that silver lighter mine. So…one day we went to the lake to go fishing, my dad and me. And I brought my lighter with me. Kept it in my jeans pocket because it made me feel cool, you know? Right before we left, I lit a bush on fire and then ran for my dad’s truck.”
I’m gaping at him. I can feel my mouth opening and closing like a dying fish. “What happened after that?”
“The fucking brush caught everything around it on fire, that’s what. Burned a couple hundred acres by the lake, even threatened a few houses at one point, but they were able to put it out pretty quickly.” He shrugs again, but I see the way his eyes light up. Like the old story excites him. “They never did figure out who exactly started that fire.”