She remains silent for a while, and when she does speak again, her voice is soft, almost breathless. “Micha?”
I grip the steering wheel, staring at the trees enclosing the area, praying she’ll finally reveal that she loves me, too.
But all she says is, “Nothing. Never mind. I’ll tell you later.”
I can barely breathe, let alone press her. “Okay, sounds good.” I shift the car into drive. “Are you ready for this?”
Nodding, she drunkenly dives over the console, eliciting a laugh from me. She pushes up and gets situated before waving me forward. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Seat belt first,” I say. When she frowns, I add, “Your safety always comes first, beautiful.”
She sighs then pulls the strap over her chest. “Fine, but the same goes for you.”
I do as she asks, buckling myself in. “Thanks. Glad my safety does come first and that you think I’m beautiful.”
She shakes her head yet doesn’t disagree.
I drive up to the starting line, feeling a bit calmer. But, my nerves start to get rattled as I wait for Stanford’s girlfriend to flag us off. I thrum my fingers on my knees, fiddling with the stereo, doing just about everything to chill the fuck out.
“Would you relax?” Ella says, placing a hand on my bouncing knee. “You’ll do well. You always do.”
My gaze slides from her hand on my leg to her eyes. “I know, but I always get so fucking fidgety right before flag off. I get stuck in my own head.”
“I know you do.” She ponders something then her green eyes light up. “I have an idea.” She reaches forward and picks up my iPod from the dock on the cracked dash. Scrolling through the songs, she selects, “The Distance” by Cake, and cranks it up full blast until the speakers crackle and the windshield vibrates.
“Now you can’t hear your own thoughts!” she shouts over the music, laughing.
I laugh with her. “Thank you!”
Her gorgeous lips expand to a grin. “Anytime.” Then she places her hand on my knee as if it belongs there.
And, in my opinion, it does.
I bob my head as I wait for the flag to get dropped. Ella’s fingers tighten on my knee as Stanford’s girlfriend strolls up between the cars.
“On your mark,” she starts with the flag raised. “Get set. Go!”
We peel out of the parking lot and fly down the road toward the trees, side by side with the Mustang. There’s something unstably beautiful about racing, liberating even. But, what’s really beautiful about the scene is how much Ella gets turned on by the dangerous thrill of it. Put the girl in a car pressing a hundred miles an hour, and she damn near orgasms. It’s hard to pay attention as she lets go of my knee and sticks her arm out the window, as if she’s catching the air. Her other hand wanders to her stomach, her fingers grazing across the bottom of her shirt, like she’s considering touching herself.
Yes, please touch yourself. Good God, touching you—
“Micha, look out!” she shouts, her eyes widening as her arm shoots out for the dashboard.
My attention whips to the road, which we’re reaching the end of. I brake hard and crane the wheel. The car spins wildly, the tires screeching and kicking up dirt. I manage to get it under control and head back toward the finish line, though.
“Holy shit,” Ella breathes as the song ends. Then she busts up laughing, drunk and reckless and free. “That was intense.”
I laugh with her, but I’m a bit distraught. The cruel, harsh reality of what just happened weighs heavily inside me. I damn near killed us, all because I couldn’t keep my dirty thoughts under control.
This is getting out of hand.
Maybe it’s time to tell her, just spell out how I feel. Because, if I don’t, I damn near might end up killing the both of us.
Chapter 7
Ella
“It’s celebration time!” I exclaim as I hop out of the Chevelle with the bottle of Vodka lifted in the air.
Micha’s long legs stretch as he climbs out the car. “Celebrate away.” He doesn’t seem as happy as he should be, which makes me sad.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I round the car toward him.
“Nothing’s wrong.” He watches me while I unscrew the lid off the vodka, slant my head back, and take a long gulp.
“You look awfully upset for someone who just kicked some ass.” I wipe the burning liquid from my lips with the back of my hand and stare out at the bonfire someone started. “Is it because you almost wrecked at the end of the road? It happens to the best of us.”
He studies me intently before snatching the bottle from my hand and downing a shot himself. “You and I need to talk later about something,” he says nervously as he removes the mouth of the bottle from his lips. “But, first, let’s celebrate.”
I pause, wondering what the hell he wants to talk about, worried he might know what I want to talk to him about. That’s when the rush of alcohol hits me square in the brain, and all I want to do is have fun, not think.
I grab the bottle from him, throw back another swallow, and then skip drunkenly toward the fire. He calls after me, laughing, but I continue to prance until I spot Renee, dancing on the tailgate of Ethan’s truck. It looks fun, so I jump up with her. She claps her hands together excitedly.
“Yeah! Drunk Ella is out tonight!” she shouts as she pumps a hand up in the air and wiggles her hips.
“Hell yeah, she is!” As I jiggle my ass to the music, the glow of the headlights and fire surrounding me, and the worries of the day dwindle away.
What a perfect night, I think. And I thought it was going to be shitty.
Then, moments later, I smell the rain.
The fucking rain, like an omen.
No, I’m not going to let it ruin my night.
I throw back another shot. Then another. Until my mind is spinning and any thoughts of this night getting ruined fade away. I start to dance. And, I mean, really dance. The kind of dancing people only do behind closed doors, yet I’m out in the open, right in the spotlight, and I don’t give a shit.
“Hey, I thought we were supposed to be sharing.” Micha suddenly appears beside the tailgate. His chin is tipped up and he’s staring at me as I rock out.
“What? You want this?” I wiggle the bottle in his direction. When he extends his fingers for it, I whip my hand back out of his reach.