“I don’t kick puppies, just people.” I looked over and watched as the headlights from oncoming cars dashed across her face. The light reflected in her eyes when she looked over at me.
“Something pretty bad must’ve happened to you when you were younger to make you so angry,” she said casually.
“Why do you say that?” I couldn’t help but ask.
She was silent for a few seconds before she finally responded.
“I know broken people when I see them.” She looked away and focused on the passing trees.
I assumed this was the part where she was going to try to psychoanalyze and then fix me. A lot of women had tried, but none ever succeeded. Some of those women were hardcore and understood what it was to have nothing and live a shitty life. The princess in the passenger seat knew nothing of those things.
“Pfft. You know nothing about being broken,” I snapped.
“Yeah, I guess not.” She looked down and shook her head.
Suddenly, the memory of the way her dad treated her and the fact that she had an old, healing bruise across her cheek popped into my head. I felt like shit the minute I thought about it. Who’s to say this girl didn’t get her ass kicked once a week like me?
I knew right away when we made it to her side of town. The trees, broken-down buildings, and trailers were replaced with medium-sized brick houses and then massive houses surrounded by iron fences and perfectly manicured lawns.
She directed me where to go and I turned left or right when she told me to. That was the extent of the conversation for the rest of the ride. When I pulled up to her house, I was taken aback by how huge it was. Why did these people need such big-ass houses? It was a huge, white, two-story house with big columns and about twenty-five windows just on the front. There was a Jaguar parked in the driveway and a plush, green lawn. The sprinklers popped up and water began to squirt all over.
My car looked like a heap of trash sitting in the front of her house and part of me wanted to ram my big rust bucket into that expensive-ass Jag.
She turned toward me and the side of her mouth tilted into a tiny half smile.
“Thanks for the ride. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Maybe.” I didn’t smile back.
She continued to sit there like she was waiting for something.
“Are you waiting for a goodnight kiss, snowflake? Because you’re not going to get one.” I leaned over her and popped open the door.
Her scent invaded my senses and I felt her warm breath against the side of my face as I leaned across her. For a brief moment, I contemplated a tiny kiss. Mostly because I hadn’t kissed a girl since I was fourteen—kissing was too personal—but also because her lips looked so sweet and juicy that they made me wonder what it would feel like to kiss her.
She cut her eyes at me and sighed and then she jumped out of my car like it was on fire while she muttered something that sounded like “asshole.” I laughed as she slammed my door and turned toward her house. I waited for a few seconds and then sped off. The quicker I got back to my stomping grounds, the better.
Eight
Patience
I cursed Megan’s car the entire ride to my house. Go figure her alternator would go out the minute I needed her to get me. And go figure I’d get stuck riding with someone who very obviously despised me for some unknown reason.
I suffered through another uncomfortable ride as I called out directions. When he pulled up to my house, the first thing I noticed was my dad standing in his office window, looking down at me. I knew in that moment I was going to have a bad night and I contemplated having him drive off and drop me off at Megan’s house. Had it not been for the fact that my baby sister was stuck in that house, I would have.
I looked over at him and attempted to smile through my fear. His eyes looked even darker in the night. His piercings kept catching the light and drawing my attention to his mouth and eyes. I thought of a way to kill time. I never thought I’d ever feel this way, but the last thing I wanted to do was get out of Zeke’s old, ragged-out car. He wasn’t safe, but he was safer than what waited for me inside that huge house full of lies and death.
“Thanks for the ride. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.
I was hoping he would say something about the Boy’s Club or his community service. I was hoping he’d say anything to start some kind of conversation. I’d even settle for a sarcastic asshole response. Instead, he barely responded.
“Maybe,” he said with a straight face.
He wanted me to get out of his car. I could tell he wanted to be rid of me and out of this fancy smancy neighborhood. I couldn’t blame him. I wanted the same thing.