This will be simple, I tell myself. Just get in the truck, let him drive you home. Five minutes, max. You can hold on to your self-control for that long, can’t you?
“Or…” Ryland’s voice stops me. I look back. He’s standing there, looking too damn good in his plain white T-shirt and jeans. “We could go someplace else.”
“Like where?” I ask, stalling for time. As if his answer would really make any difference. I would follow him wherever he chose to take me, to the ends of the earth and back. And all because of the way he looked at me inside.
You’re hopeless, Tegan Callahan. Hopeless, and asking for trouble.
“Who knows?” Ryland slowly smiles, and the last thread of my resistance unravels and falls away. My pulse races as he looks at me, and I swear, I could forget my own name under the spell of the promise in those dark eyes.
“Let’s have an adventure.”
12.
My favorite place in the world was always riding in the passenger seat with Connor at the wheel. I love to drive, but there was something about being curled up there beside him, his hand draped across my thigh, letting him take me wherever he wanted to go. Windows down, music up. I can still taste it, those teenaged summer nights: a full tank of gas and nothing but the open road. We’d drive to the ocean and make out in the back seat; take Mulholland Drive above the canyons just to see the glitter of LA city lights.
I felt like our whole world was right there, inside that car. He was all I ever needed, one hand on the wheel, totally in control.
That passenger seat was the first place I realized something wasn’t right. We were driving back from a show, early one Saturday morning. Connor was still wired, wide-eyed. He always got pumped after playing for a crowd, but this was different, like he was restless, ready to bounce out of his own skin.
“You ever seen something so fucking beautiful?” he asked, as we turned off at the top of the canyon. The road narrowed, two lanes, winding perilously along the ridge; a sheer drop on our right-hand side, all the way down to the glittering lights of the valley below.
I yawned, sleepy. “Nope.” I reached to intertwine my fingers with his.
“The guys who go over the edge, they’ve got it right,” Connor said, still staring at the view. “Imagine, this is the last sight you ever see.”
I felt the car speed up.
“Connor…” I sat a little straighter. He took a turn too fast, and I grabbed the seat for support. “Connor, slow down!”
“Relax, baby.” Connor drove faster, speeding through the turns. My heart was racing now; I could see the dark shadows flying by.
“Please, you’re scaring me!”
“Relax,” he laughed. “Don’t you feel it?” Connor leaned back his head and howled, a sharp, animal sound. The car slipped into the middle of the road.
“Connor!” I yanked on his hand, shoving it back on the wheel. But he didn’t steer right, he just kept driving, barreling down the middle of the dark road, flying around another hairpin turn.
60…70…80… The speedometer kept on rising. I felt tears sting the back of my throat, terror seizing hold of me and gripping tight.
There were headlights ahead coming straight for us. “Connor!” I screamed, covering my face with my hands. I couldn’t look, I couldn’t bear it.Suddenly he swerved, pulling back into our lane. The other car flew past, angry horn blaring.
I gasped for air, reeling.
“What the fuck?” I smacked his arm, still shaking. “What are you doing?!”
Connor just laughed.
“Are you on something?” I demanded, furious. “You could have got us killed!”
“What? Nothing. Don’t be such a little bitch,” Connor laughed, ignoring the fear that had me shaking, close to tears. “I’m fucking untouchable!”
He whooped again. I saw it in his eyes, and I knew he believed it.
It was the beginning of the end.
13.
I surface from the memory like a dream. My heart races for a moment until I snap back to reality. Ryland in the driver’s seat, not Connor. A wide, even highway ahead, sunshine in the afternoon breeze.
It’s all over now.
I slowly take a deep breath. I feel self-conscious for the unease still gripping my system, like I should be better than this. Stronger.
“I can take care of myself, you know.”
I hear the words tumble out, defensive, before I have a chance to think them through. Ryland glances over. He raises a questioning eyebrow.
I blush, realizing how ungrateful I sound. “I mean, just because you keep picking me up and driving me places, don’t start thinking I’m some damsel in distress, needing to be rescued.”
Ryland chuckles. “Believe me, sweetheart. If Prince Charming came along, you’d probably punch him in the face. After kissing him first,” he adds, with a grin.
I shift in the passenger seat. We’re following the highway out by the ocean to I don’t even know where. And with every mile, I wonder if I’m making a terrible mistake.
I want him, and I know, I shouldn’t.
“Where are we going, anyway?” I ask.
“I’m taking you to dinner,” Ryland replies calmly.
I pause, confused. “It’s barely five p.m.”
“I’m sure we can figure out a way to kill some time.” Ryland leans back, totally relaxed —while I’m wound tight, feeling every shift and movement like a tidal wave crashing over me.