I pinch my brow and push back to look him in the eye. He chuckles and cups my head, bringing me close enough to kiss the top.
“It’s just his way of dealing. He made a joke out of it, actually. He would say ‘I hate you’ after everything good I did. Eventually, we’d slap hands twice and he’d say ‘I hate you’ and I’d say ‘good’ after every tackle I broke or pass I nailed. He’s fronting, and I let him. It works for us. I grew up in a neighborhood full of guys who had to put on big chests and hard faces. Noah’s no different,” Nico says.
No, I suppose he isn’t.
“The A&M guys say anything?” I ask.
Nico’s muscles get rigid, and I squeeze his arms, sliding my hands up around his neck.
“I saw them there, and Noah told me,” I say.
“I don’t like to think about it. I just…I guess I don’t want to get my hopes up for anything and then have it all come crashing down,” he says, and my heart sinks that he thinks so little of the attention he’s garnering.
“They’re watching you because you’re that good,” I say, nuzzling against his neck. I allow myself a kiss, and he stills at my touch. I step back enough to look at him, but before I speak, his eyes meet mine and the look in them is so raw and thankful that I decide to leave it at that.
“Can I take you somewhere? Before…before I have to take you home? I swear, it’s safe, and I don’t have any funny ideas. I just don’t want to be late, because I promised your dad. But there’s somewhere…just somewhere I really want you to see.”
I hold his stare for a few seconds, then nod. His hand falls to mine, and our fingers tangle as he leads me through the crowd and out the door, a little more than an hour remaining before he has to have me home.
Nico pulls up hard on the car door handle for his work-in-progress Toyota. I slide in, sitting on a new seat covering that’s soft and fuzzy. I let my fingers pet the fabric, and I grin at Nico as he pushes the door closed. I pull my buckle on as he walks around the car.
“I like the new seats,” I say, reaching over and running my hands along his as he gets in.
“First of many upgrades,” he chuckles. “So far, this…and some oil…are the only things I could afford to do.”
“You’ll get there,” I say.
“Yeah, well, I’m starting after church on Sundays at the Hungry Hill right by the highway. Sasha works there, and he makes decent money,” Nico says, adjusting his mirrors and looking over his shoulder as he pulls out of his space.
“Isn’t that a trucker stop?” I ask, vaguely recalling the red sign beaming on the other side of the freeway.
“Why do you think it’s such good money?” Nico says, pushing his tongue in his cheek. It takes me a few seconds to get his innuendo, and when I do, I smack him on the arm.
“You are not going to sell favors to truckers,” I say.
“Oh my God, Reagan. I can’t believe you’re so dirty. I meant that I was going to sell popsicles on the side. Jeeze, you’re a dirty girl.”
I blush hard and tilt my head, shooting him an incredulous expression. He laughs at me, then turns his focus to the road. I look away, too, but I keep thinking about how he called me a dirty girl, and my thoughts slip from sweet and na?ve to…
I clear my throat, shaking off the heat trailing down my body and up my chest.
“Where are we going?” I ask, taking glances at his profile, the way it’s lit up by each streetlight, his hair less slick than before when it was still wet from his shower. I love the way the front falls over one eye. It makes him almost from another time.
“It’s not far. It’s just a place I go, sometimes. And, I don’t know…it’s silly, but…I want to take you there,” he says.
“Okay,” I smile, letting my eyes linger on him a little longer. He can tell I’m watching, and his lip quirks up on the side closest to me.
“You make that face in class…when you’re right, or when you know you’re about to kill everyone with some smart thing you’re about to say.”
He turns to me, and his grin grows. The dimple is at its deepest.
“I do?” he asks, his eyes wrinkled at the sides. He looks back to the road.
“You do. It’s how I know I’m about to lose,” I say.
“You never lose,” he says quickly.
I chuckle and speak at the same time.
“Oh…I lose. Trust me,” I say.
“Nah,” he says, his words again swift.
My brow is low as I watch him suspiciously. I know I lose, and I know that he’s the strongest debater I’ve ever come up against. I’m more likely to win an argument with my father than Nico Medina, but I let it go for now, because even with this…he’s probably right.
We pull to a stop before he crosses the highway, parking the car in a small neighborhood just on the other side of West End from the freeway. Nico jogs around to my side, helping me open the door, and taking my hand as I climb out, his eyes shifting to my bare knees then grazing up my body until they meet my waiting stare.
“You caught me,” he says, and I let my lashes sweep a slow blink.