Are they practical for driving? Certainly not. But they’re red and made of awesome so I shall sport them cross-country.
“Just please be careful,” Callie warns in the big-sister voice she typically reserves for her younger sisters.
She and I are pretty much the same age so she rarely takes that tone with me, but I’m well aware of the seriousness built up behind it so I place my hand on her shoulder and get real for a minute.
“Callie. I promise I will be safe. You don’t need to worry.” I meet her eyes with a silent look of sincerity and she nods. Opening the door, I smile at the three of them. “I will see you guys when I get to Grams, okay? Love ya.” We exchange hugs that are extra squishy, then I make my way back down the apartment stairs to my red car.
The Tweedles stare down at me from their perch on the midpoint landing and I wave a final good-bye before unlocking the doors and sliding into the front seat. Pulling the door closed behind me, I turn to put the key in the ignition and—
“Ahh!” I jump back, startled and pissed, then thwack my open palm against the gigantic body of pure muscle seated in the passenger seat. “God damn you, Jack! You scared the shit out of me!”
Okay, so maybe hitting him wasn’t very mature but I couldn’t help myself. My nerves are a little on edge and, honestly, Jack’s just so… big, anyone in their right mind would be terrified to be caught off guard by his presence.
“What the hell?” I snap, throwing him some serious stink eye.
He grins. “Good morning.”
“What are you doing in my car?” I glance up through the windshield at where my cousins still stand on the landing, captivated by Jack’s sudden appearance.
Great.
“I’m going with you,” he says.
I whip my eyes back to him. “What?”
“To Louisiana.” He points to a large duffle bag in the backseat.
I blink. “Uh, no you’re not.”
“Uh, yes I am.”
“Like hell.”
He crinkles his brow. “I’ve never understood that phrase. But okay. I’ll go with you ‘like hell,’ whatever that means.”
“Get out of my car.” I point to his door.
“Oh, Jenna.” He clucks his tongue and his eyes flash. “This will be good for both of us.”
For a moment, I stare at him, not sure how to interpret his words. He watches me carefully, clearly enjoying the fact that my mind went anywhere other than his sentence.
I cock an eyebrow and cross my arms. “What are you talking about?”
He casually leans against the passenger window like he belongs in my car, like he’s perfectly comfortable horning in on my space, and pierces me with his gray eyes. “It’s like this. For reasons beyond my control, I need to go back home. And for reasons beyond your control, so do you. So since our ‘homes’ are right next door to one another, I figured we’d carpool to Louisiana and you can just drop me off at Little Vail on your way to New Orleans.”
He gives me that little-boy smile of his and it’s all I can do not to lean forward and soak it in. I hate me.
“I don’t see how that’s good for me,” I say. “At all.”
He shrugs. “You get some company on the road.”
I nod with a clenched jaw. “And you get a free ride.”
His eyes meet mine and I instantly realize that was the wrong thing to say.
His smile grows. “Precisely.”
I shake my head. “I don’t need any company.”
I don’t like spending excessive time with Jack. Not just because we fight, but because of what happened last year. It was one crazy night when we were both drunk, and we never spoke of it after the fact, but our “friendship” has been tense ever since.
Nevertheless, I haven’t been able to shake my attraction to Jack since that night, and sitting two feet away from him for an entire road trip certainly won’t help anything. I need him to get the hell out of my car. Immediately.
“Sure you do,” he says easily. “Everyone needs company.”
“Not me. So get out.”
He grins. “No.”
God I hate him. But not really. God I hate that I don’t hate him.
I jut my chin, stare him over, then suck air in through my teeth. “Fine. If you won’t remove yourself…” Exiting the driver’s-side door, I stomp around the hood of the car over to his door, yank it open, and wrap my hands around his bicep. Then I start pulling.
He doesn’t budge. Like, he literally doesn’t move an inch as I tug at his oversized arm and grunt like I’m trying to move a massive piece of hardwood furniture and not a human being.