“You were really…incredible.” I keep struggling for a word that truly captures what I’m trying to say and falling miserably short. “I’d love to hear more of your work.”
She wraps her fingers around mine, where they rest lightly on her arm, and smiles. “I’m here every fourth Friday of the month.” She presses closer. “Or I could give you a private reading anytime you want.”
Her breast is against my arm, doing things to totally unrelated parts of my body. “That would be…” I look at her and her eyes flash a message into mine. My groin hears it, loud and clear.
She turns toward the storefront we’re passing. “Damn.”
I glance past her and see we’re at The Bean. It’s dark inside. “No big thing.” I look back toward Tino’s and see we’re near my car, just on the other side of the street. “Where are you parked?”
“About a block past Tino’s and around the corner to the left, on Fifth.”
“It’s cold. My car’s right there,” I say, pointing at my black Charger. “Let me give you a lift back.”
“Okay,” she says, stepping into the deserted street.
I click the doors as we cross and she slides into my passenger seat without any hesitation. I might not be an ax murderer, but I’m no less dangerous.
I crank the engine and my latest obsession song pours from the speakers.
“Arctic Monkeys,” she says, nodding along to the heavy percussion. “Nice.”
I turn down the volume. “Sorry.”
She tosses me a wicked smile and cranks the stereo back up.
I adjust the heat and swallow when the song betrays me by telling her I’ve dreamt about her nearly every night this week, and asks how many secrets she can keep. I pull onto the road and head back toward the bar. “Just tell me when.”
She points out the windshield. “At that stop sign, take a left. I’m just a few cars up.” I do as I’m told and she points to a silver Mini. “That’s me.”
“Sweet ride,” I say with a nod.
“My dad bought it but he didn’t like it, so he gave it to me so he wouldn’t have to drive me back and forth to school. Saves him having to pretend we know each other.”
I pull into a spot across the street from her car and cut the engine. “You’re not close?” I ask, turning in my seat to face her.
She shrugs. “I’ve never really met him, even though we’ve lived in the same house all my life.”
I try to read her expression, but all I’m finding there is indifference. Either she’s great at stuffing down her emotions or she truly doesn’t care. Either way, she’s better at dealing with family shit than I am. “That’s tough.”
“Not really. Growing up is a hell of a lot easier when you’ve got parents that are just phoning it in. I never had to deal with any of the shit my friends did. No groundings. No curfew. I can order a pizza and eat in my room because no one’s at the dinner table anyway. I can fuck in my own bed without anyone caring. I do what I want, when I want.”
My heart’s suddenly pounding in my chest with the image of her fucking. But she must have her head on pretty straight to have made it twenty years in the world on her own compass without landing in jail. “So, I take it you still live at home?”
She nods.
It’s not unusual. Sierra State, like most of the California State schools, is predominantly a commuter campus.
“Where is that?”
“Up in the foothills. On county land near Ashby.”
“How long does it take you to get home from here?” I ask, suddenly concerned she’s driving on her own, even though she didn’t drink much.
“It’s only a half hour, as long as there’s no fog.”
“Coffee might have helped,” I say with a flick of my wrist in the general direction of The Bean. “Sorry that didn’t work out.”
“Next time,” she says with a smile.
Without realizing I’m doing it, I find I’m leaning toward her. I catch myself and stop. But before I can pull back, she closes the rest of the distance and presses her lips hard against mine.
Any thought that I shouldn’t be doing this evaporates like fog in a stiff breeze at the taste of her mouth, moving hungrily on mine. She’s scotch and fire on my tongue as she devours me. Right or wrong, I’m powerless to stop her.
Her fingers run down my face to my chest as she opens her mouth wider, inviting me deeper inside. I take the invitation, tasting as much of her as she’ll give me. Her hands tug at the hem of my shirt and my breath catches when cold fingers meet my warm abs.
I press harder against her, drawing her closer, and fire rips through my veins as our tongues and hands explore the new landscapes of each other’s mouths and bodies.
But a shard of coherent thought finally manages to pierce the bubble I’ve constructed to justify what I’m doing. “You’re a student,” I say against her mouth.