I plopped down on the curb and waited. It had only been nine minutes when blinding headlights flashed in my direction, the word Namaste glowing in the darkness. The Prius came speeding around to the curb, nearly leveling my feet against the road. Snake parked. I jumped up, swung the door open, and dove in.
“Thank God for you,” I panted as I shut the door.
I turned to him. He was watching me calmly, wearing only gray sweatpants and no shirt, his hair flopping from his scalp like a mop. I kept telling myself not to stare at his stupid, hard chest. At the curvature of his abs that weren’t really abs, but close enough. At his waist that formed the perfect shape of a . . . crap. Okay, so I was staring (see: drooling).
“Where’s your shirt, loser?”
“Under my bed.” He hit the gas and took off down the road. “I was almost asleep, but the damsel needed my saving.”
“Call me a damsel again. I dare you.”
He laughed. “All right. Fill me in.”
“Nothing abnormal,” I said as he turned onto the main road. “Karen found out about your upcoming transformation to world’s most underqualified dad the same night that I break my curfew so we can sneak out together, disregarding the fact that I’m forbidden from seeing you. As I’m sure you can imagine, she took that very well.”
“I’m not that underqualified,” he argued.
“Wow. That’s all you got from that.”
“Sorry. From where I’m sitting, it doesn’t sound like anything new. Shouldn’t a knockdown-dragout have been expected?”
“Yes, but—” I tried to think of a reason why this time was different. A nasty word or a banishment to the nearest convent or a fist brawl to the song “Kung Fu Fighting.” Something. But it wasn’t different. The only difference was that I ran this time. The only thing that was different was me. “It doesn’t matter. I need time away, okay? Can I stay with you tonight, and we can figure the rest out tomorrow?”
“Sure. But my family is leaving tomorrow.”
“Leaving?” My stomach rose to my throat.
“Not forever.” He grinned, smugly delighted that the idea of him leaving bothered me so much. “Just for the day. Remember when I picked you up that first time we went out, and I told your mom that my family goes to Cedar Point every summer?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, we haven’t missed a summer since I was six. My moms arranged for us to go tomorrow. We have to do it early this year since the summer is going to be super hectic with the baby and everything.”
“Oh.” I tried to picture Snake at an amusement park with his moms and a head-size cotton candy on a stick, but couldn’t conjure the image.
“You can come with us,” he said as we reached the stoplight, his bare skin draped in red. “We can buy you a ticket.”
“I don’t want to put a damper on your postcard family outing.”
“It will be torture having to listen to you make fun of old men’s fanny packs all day, but I’ll survive.”
“I don’t do heights. No Ferris wheels or drop towers or anything like that.”
“You jumped out of a window,” he noted.
“Because I knew I would fall on you.”
“Well, then, pretend like the ground below is a bunch of concrete mes to break your fall . . . and kill you, but that’s besides the comforting point I’m making.”
We pulled into his driveway. The house was completely black except for a single light shining from his bedroom window upstairs.
“My moms are asleep. Be very quiet,” he whispered as we walked up his porch steps.
“Are they going to be mad that I crashed?”
“No, they’re cool about stuff like that.”
“Carla Banks. Exhibit A.”
He scowled and opened the door, placing his index finger over his mouth like he was a kindergarten teacher at naptime. He led me upstairs, past the nerdy beach picture that seemed to get nerdier the more I looked at it, as if the spike cut and buck teeth could get any worse. He stopped at his door and turned to me, suddenly fidgety and awkward and . . . was he nervous?
“I’m sure you have a guest room in this fine estate,” I whispered.
“You don’t have to whisper up here. My moms’ room is downstairs. And yeah, it’s that one right over there.” He pointed across the hall to a room diagonally across from his. The door was cracked slightly. “There’s a bathroom in there, too.”
“Where’s the basketball court and indoor pool?”
“Basketball court is undergoing renovations, and the pool is being cleaned. You forgot about the exercise room.”
“I didn’t forget. I only asked about the rooms you’d find me in.”
He smiled and lowered his head, his blue eyes fixed on the ground. His shoulder was pressed in the doorway and the light from his bedroom reflected against his smooth skin. I bit down on my lip so hard it went numb. I’d never been much of a lip biter, mainly because I found the habit to be flirtatious and very Carla-ish, but Snake inadvertently gave me a new tic just by being so boyish and so shirtless and so freaking close.
He glanced up. And that time, it was me who was nervous.
“I should probably go to bed,” I whispered, pointing behind me. I was pretty sure I pointed in the wrong direction. My brain was so Snake-high, I didn’t know which way was up.
“Okay.” He nodded. Then he took an extended breath, his hard chest lifting, and said, “You could stay in my room if you want.”
I want. I want. For the love of—?
“Stop flirting with me.”
“I don’t think I can.”
I didn’t want to go to the guest room. I didn’t want to go to bed within ten feet of him and not with him. I didn’t want him to stop flirting with me. I didn’t want to be the one to admit it.
He took me by the waist and pulled me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me tightly as if he thought the girl within his grasp would float away in an instant. And I might have with anyone else. But not with him. He felt safe and warm, and still had that magazine cologne scent on his chest. He was breathing heavily into my knotted hair, my ear against his heartbeat. And even though I didn’t like heartbeats, I liked his. His heart wasn’t just blood and pulsation. His heartbeat had a rhythm. A sporadic, insecure, perfect rhythm. It was like mine, a beast all its own.
“I just want you to know that there are still streaks of purple in the sky from the lightning,” he whispered into my hair.
I lifted my head from his chest and looked into his eyes. Comfortingly dull. Hidden. Wanting. “So?”