Beneath The Skin(31)

“Forever,” I answer vaguely.

“It always kinda amazes me, the stuff that comes out of creative people’s minds.” He jabs a button into the console and the radio turns on, blasting us with the likes of Nirvana at max volume. We both jump. He grabs and twists the volume knob at once, an apologetic wince on his face. “Sorry ‘bout that. Dmitri’s car, Dmitri’s music.”

“This isn’t your car?”

“I borrowed my roomie’s for the night.”

“I like this song.”

“Huh?” He turns the volume up a bit. “This one?”

“Mmm-hmm.” I hum along to the tune of Heart-Shaped Box, then glance over at Brant and catch him looking at me while driving. “Keep your eyes on the road.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” He turns forward, smiling. “You like rock?”

I haven’t heard Nirvana in years, it seems. Pangs of nostalgia rush forth of times when my dad would come home from the office, trade his stuffy suit for a tattered Korn t-shirt, and turn up the stereo as he painted his miniature model dragons. “Sure.” My answer is delayed. “My dad listened to a lot of Metallica, Nine Inch Nails, Nirvana … Then he’d flip the CD and play Chopin while he painted.”

“Show Pan? Who the hell’s Show Pan?”

“Chopin. Polish composer. Pianist.”

“Cool.” He nods, pouting his lips in thought. “So your dad paints?”

“Miniature figurines. Used to.”

“Used to? What does he do now?”

“No idea. Couldn’t care less. Where are we going?” I ask, changing the subject as my insides tighten at all this talk about my dad. “I could eat an arm and a leg right about now.”

“I got some nuts if you need somethin’ to put in your mouth.”

I gape at him. Is he fucking serious? Am I supposed to laugh at that? “Not interested,” I tell him with a huff.

“You sure? They’re honey-roasted.”

I blink, confusedly staring at the side of his face.

“There’s a can in the glove box.” He reaches over suddenly, his hand grazing my thigh, and pops it open, revealing the can to me.

“A can … of nuts,” I say, swallowing back a laugh.

“What? You thought I meant—? Oh, you dirty girl.” Brant sneers at me teasingly. “I’d never say somethin’ that asinine on a first date.”

“Oh, yeah? Is that what this is? A first date?”

“Sure. Isn’t it?”

“Too early to tell.” I slap shut the glove box. “Thanks for your offer, but I’ll wait until we’re at the … wherever we’re going.”

“Lucky Dean’s.”

Never heard of it. “If they serve food, sounds good to me.”

A moment passes as we drive with the soft, grungy beat of Nirvana in the background. Suddenly Brant blurts, “Y’know, if you want to put my nuts in your mouth—”

I burst out in laughter. I can’t hold it in.

“Knew I could get you to laugh,” he mutters to himself through a victorious smile of his own. “Score one for Rudawski.”

I’m already chewing on my lips to swallow the chuckles, shaking my head and looking away. Despite my annoyance at my inability to keep from laughing, I can’t deny the utter release of tension that laugh just gifted me. I feel pounds lighter in an instant.

“Can’t blame you,” he says with a shrug, coming to a stop at another red light. “Every other thing comin’ out of my mouth is some sort of … bedroom invite, so to speak. Habit of mine, I guess. I might legitimately have sexual Tourette’s. Can’t blame you for what you think of me.”

I stare down at my fingers, picking at them. “What do you think I think of you?”

“Maybe you think I’m just a dumb dude who has no business in the art school. Maybe you think I got no depth in me.”

“Maybe.”

I stare out the window for a while. Then, I hear a click. I look up. Brant’s holding his camera, lowering it from having just taken a picture. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “You just look so damn pretty tonight.”

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes. I just stare at his bright eyes and that camera in his soft hands … a camera I know easily costs upwards of six hundred dollars.

“I’ll delete the pic if that was weird,” he says quickly. “I just wanted to sorta … catch you unawares, I guess.”

“Caught,” I assure him with a short nod. “Where were you hiding that thing?”

“Under my seat,” he confesses with a chuckle. “In a little black case. I take it everywhere with me. It’s like my new toy or somethin’. Can’t go nowhere without it.”