Rules of a Rebel and a Shy Girl(11)

“It’s not your responsibility to take care of me.”

“Why not? I promised you I would.”

“Yeah, but … That was a long time ago. We were kids. You didn’t even know what you were getting yourself into.”

“I don’t feel obligated if that’s what you’re getting at.” He taps the tip of my nose with his fingertip, his lips tugging into a half-smile. I swear my heart glows. “Taking care of you is one of my favorite things to do, so quit arguing and let me do what I love.”

“Beck …” I rack my brain for the right thing to say. “You’re my best friend, and best friends aren’t supposed to pay for each other’s cars to get fixed. It’s not right, no matter how much you love doing it.”

He cocks a brow. “Who says it’s not right?”

“Me.” I rub my hands up and down my arms as the cool night air works through the fabric of my jacket. “I need to start taking care of myself more and stop relying on you so much. I’m too old for you to still be rescuing me.” There, I said what I needed to say. I should feel better, right?

Then why do I feel so sick?

He splays his hand across my cheek, looking me in the eye. “I’m not trying to rescue you. I just don’t like you driving around in an unreliable car, especially when you work late and take a road that’s out in the middle of fucking nowhere.” His brows abruptly dip as his gaze drops to the shorts I’m wearing that barely cover my ass. He blinks a few times before his eyes meet mine again. “Wait … Where were you tonight? I thought you were working.”

Panicking, I search for a lie to tell him. At a party? Dancing at a club? Ha! Like that would ever work. I rarely go out partying, and I wear shorts this short even less frequently.

Unable to think of a good lie, I decide a party is my best option.

“I was at this party a girl from my Chemistry class was having. It was a pool party, but you know how much I hate swimsuits, so I just went in shorts.”

God, I hate lying to him.

But telling him the truth would be way worse.

His gaze falls to my legs again. Biting his lip, he reaches out and brushes his knuckles against the outside of my thigh. “How come you never wear stuff like this to my pool parties?”

I shiver from the unexpected touch, and good Lord, those silly flutters just about lose their damn minds. “I, um …” I clear my throat, trying to clear the flustered tone out of my system. It’s not like he’s never touched your leg before. Jesus, get a grip on yourself. “I don’t know … because I know you and know you won’t get mad at me for not following the party dress code.”

Rubbing his lips together, he drags his gaze up my body to my face. I search his eyes, attempting to get a vibe on him, see if he’s buying my lie. If anyone can read through my bullshit, it’s Beck. I can’t pick up his vibe at all, though. I used to be able to all the time, but lately, something’s changed. Either I’ve lost the ability to read my best friend, or he’s been more closed off.

His lips curve into a devious grin. “Well, not anymore.”

“Huh?”

“From now on, I’m going to be pissed off if you don’t follow my party dress code.” He crosses his arms, seeming pretty damn pleased with himself. “So, on Friday, you better show up to my place wearing a sexy black dress.”

I crinkle my nose. “You’re having a party the day after Thanksgiving that requires people to wear sexy black dresses? What kind of theme is that?”

“The do-whatever-the-hell-I-want theme.” His eyes sparkle in the glow of my hazard lights. “And since you’re such a party girl, now I don’t have to beg you to come.”

Crap. I didn’t think this through very well at all.

Why do I get the feeling he knows I’m lying about where I was tonight and is just trying to get me to confess?

He gives me a second to admit I’m full of shit, but being the huge chicken I am, all I do is nod.

Sighing disappointedly, he strolls past me. “Come on; let’s get you home. I’d ask if you want me to have a tow truck come get your car, but I already know the answer.” He stops near the front of my car where I left the flashlight balanced on the bumper and leans over to inspect the engine. “So, either I can come pick you up tomorrow and we can drive out here and try to fix this, or we can borrow Ari’s truck and tow it to your mom’s house.”

“Towing will probably be better since I’m not a hundred percent sure what’s wrong with it.” I move over beside him, feeling shaken up about what happened and craving his comforting nearness.