“Get in and try to start your car,” he says, and I shake myself out of the mini-trance he has me in. I do as he says. It doesn’t even enter my mind to argue with him. There’s something about him that makes me want to obey everything he tells me. Dangerous, for sure. I turn the key and the motor turns and cranks, but nothing happens. I get out disappointed.
“It’s okay. I’ll see if I can get Katie or Beth to take me. I’ll just have to have Pops look at it later.”
“Pops? He asks, walking around me and getting inside my car. “Is that your old man?”
“My grandfather. I don’t have an old man,” I tell him, my face heating for some unexplainable reason. His being close to me seems to warm me up.
“Figured,” he says and gets out of the car, with an almost disgusted look on his face.
I frown. “What does that mean?”
“Two things,” he says, slipping his sunglasses back on. They’re mirrored and reflect back at me, and I instantly hate them. I want to see his eyes again. So bad that it’s all I can do not to physically reach over and rip them off his face.
“Which are?”
“One you’re too damn young to have an old man,” he starts and that bothers me. Mostly because I don’t want him to view me as young—and definitely not off limits.
Sticking my chest out, I tell him, “I’m old enough.”
“You’re jailbait.”
“I haven’t been that for a while,” I tell him stretching the truth. “Besides, if that’s how you felt, why did you ask who Pops was?”
“Curiosity.”
“Curiosity killed the cat,” I mutter, annoyed with him. He’s making me feel bad, and I don’t like it. I’m used to boys trying to compliment me and throwing themselves at me. For the first time in my life, I actually want one to, and he’s making me feel…stupid.
“So did messing with the wrong girl. Especially the wrong underage girl,” he stresses.
“I’m not underage,” I tell him, wondering what exactly messing with means.
“How old are you?” he asks, and even though his eyes are hidden, I get the feeling they’re boring into me. I can feel the heat from them.
“Eighteen.”
“Fuck,” he rumbles rubbing his fingers through his hair, and I’m instantly jealous of those fingers.
“What? I didn’t lie. That’s the legal age of consent. Anyways, I gotta go. I’m already late. I’ll just try and get one of my…”
He cuts me off asking, “Where are you going?”
“I have a test.”
“A test?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s Saturday,” he states as if I don’t know what day it is.
“I know. It’s my SAT test for college. I can’t miss it or Pops will have a shit-fit.”
“Jesus Christ. Briar was right, you are in high school.” He shakes his head, but he doesn’t walk away.
“Well, yeah. For a little longer.”
“How much longer?”
“I don’t see why this is important. I really need to get going.” I sigh, stepping forward to walk around him.
He matches my step, cutting me off. “How much longer?” his deep voice rumbles, even deeper than normal, and it scrapes across my nerve endings making my stomach clench. Or it could be the way he reaches out and grabs my hand, keeping me from leaving. There’s so much heat coming from his touch, it envelopes me, and I swear I feel my knees grow weak.
“Four weeks,” I whisper, and it is a hoarse whisper, worse, I’m pretty sure he can feel the way my body just shook with a tremble. His thumb brushes back and forth on my arm. I watch it, because for some reason I can’t make myself look up at those mirrored glasses again. I’m afraid I’d reveal too much about how he is affecting me—especially since I can’t see his expression.
“It’ll have to work.” He sighs vaguely, confusing me. Before I can ask him, he’s pulling me across the parking lot. “Let’s go,” he says.
I do my best to stop, though it takes me a minute to realize I need to. “Go where?”
“I’ll take you to your test,” he says coolly as if him taking me somewhere is natural.
“Oh. Are you sure? I could get my aunts to…” I trail off intrigued by his offer.
“I’m sure,” he says, walking me over to a parked bike. He gets on and looks at me expectantly. “Get on.”
I have a moment of indecision, before I decide to go with it. I brace my hand on his shoulder, more of that electricity passes between us, though to be honest, I’m starting to enjoy it. I swing on behind him and settle in. He reaches around me with a helmet placing it on my head. It has to be his, because it’s a little big. He adjusts it as much as he can before turning back around, he pulls his sunglasses down to look at me. I can feel the heat of his gaze like the flames of a thousand candles. I hear an almost soundless sigh come from him, and then he faces to the front powering the bike to life.