Which is precisely why sitting so close to him in my little red car is a bad idea. But whatever. The chips have been laid, the bet called, and now we’re in a spinning roulette. Here’s hoping we don’t both come away from this empty-hearted.
My phone rings. It’s Pixie.
“Hey, Pix,” I answer.
“Hey! How’s the road trip going?” She sounds ridiculously happy, which is a symptom of her being ridiculously in love, no doubt.
I wonder, for like a nanosecond, if I’ll ever be so in love that I sound that happy. But I quickly banish that thought. Not because I’m anti-love or anything, but because I have other priorities.
“It’s going… okay,” I say, sneaking a peek at Jack. “How’s our dorm room looking?”
“Great. Levi has us pretty much all unpacked and moved in.”
I smile. “Bless that boy.”
“So…” she says. “Ellen just called me.”
I groan. “She told you about Jack?”
He glances at me across the car, but I ignore him.
“Yep,” Pixie says. “So what’s the deal? I thought you were driving solo to New Orleans.”
“I was. But Jack needed a ride back home too and one thing led to another and now he’s sitting beside me.”
“Hey, Pixie!” Jack shouts at the phone with a smile.
“Hey, Jack!” she calls back then sighs cheerfully. “I love how everyone is calling me Pixie now, instead of Sarah.”
“It suits you better,” I say. “So what did Auntie tell you about us?”
“Just that you tried to dump Jack at Willow Inn,” she says. “Come on, Jenna. It can’t be that bad. Personally, I think it’s a good thing you have someone with you. And the fact that it’s Jack is even better.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
She laughs. “Uh, because he’s your friend? And even though you guys have weird sexual tension—”
“We do not have weird sexual tension—”
“Yes, you do. Don’t deny it.”
Jack watches me with amusement and I purposely look away.
“All I’m saying,” Pixie continues, “is that even though you guys have weird sexual tension, you still get along well.”
“What are you talking about? We fight all the time.” Now I do look at Jack.
Pixie scoffs playfully. “My point exactly.”
“Whatever.”
“Fine. Be in denial. It won’t change anything.” I hear the smile in her voice. “But drive safely, okay? And come back soon! I already miss you and you probably haven’t even crossed the border yet.”
I laugh softly. “I miss you too. Later, Pix.”
We hang up and Jack cocks his head at me.
I scowl. “What?”
He grins. “Weird sexual tension, huh?”
I roll my eyes and turn up the radio. “Whatever.”
He looks away from me, but his grin stays in place.
We don’t speak for the rest of our journey through Arizona and I’m grateful for the reprieve. Don’t get me wrong. I like talking to Jack. Truly. He’s fascinating in his own way. Part trouble, part mystery. Playful and pensive. He’s one of the few males on this planet I enjoy conversing with—when he’s not being a dickhead, of course. But at this particular moment, I appreciate his silence. Mostly because it means I’m spared from the sound of his voice.
It’s a manly voice, husky and rough, yet somehow beautiful as it drifts my way and caresses my ears. It’s always been kryptonite for me, much like his omniscient eyes, and in many ways it’s more powerful than even his hands, which is saying something.
But eyes I can turn away from, and hands I can pull back from, but a voice…
A voice is an inescapable lover, unbidden and undeniable. You cannot unhear an enticing phrase or a whispered word, just as you cannot unfeel the heated breath that accompanies such things. And Jack’s voice, especially when saying my name, is my total undoing.
So the silence is welcome as we travel beyond the Arizona border, and even more so when the sun falls behind the mountains in the rearview mirror and dusk sweeps across the desolate New Mexico desert. But as darkness crawls out from the extended shadows of the sunset and slowly ushers in the coming night, the silence starts to grow thick and my mind starts to wander to naughty memories.
Nightfall does this to people, reminds them of darkness and all the things done therein. Activities that evoke pleasure and passion.
Suddenly feeling hot, I crack my window and let a thin wave of warm summer air stream in from the pink-and-purple-streaked sky. I slowly inhale. Even though the air does nothing to cool me down, I still welcome the breeze moving over my skin. Like soft fingertips, gliding inside my elbow… trailing up over my arm… sliding up my neck and along my jaw…