“Does it matter?”
I roll my eyes, knowing damn well I’d go anywhere with him.
“That’s what I thought. One hour.”
After Thayer left, I jumped into the shower, did my quick ten-minute makeup routine, then blow-dried my hair, leaving it down and straight. I decided to wear a long-sleeved white shirt with a high neck, then threw a dark navy dress with a sweetheart neckline and tiny white polka dots over the top, pairing it with white sneakers.
By the time I pack a bag with a jacket, an extra change of clothes, and my toothbrush, I hear the deep rumble of Thayer’s Hellcat pulling up the drive. The sound sends a thrill up my spine, my heart doing a flip-flop in my chest. There are certain things that I will always associate with Thayer. Thunderstorms, lightning, the smell of rain and tobacco, and the sound of his Challenger.
I practically skip out of my house, backpack bouncing behind me. Thayer’s waiting for me, leaned up against the hood of his car on the passenger side, arms crossed over his chest. I hurry down the steps, and when he realizes I’m not going to slow down, his arms shoot out to catch me just before I jump into them.
“Hi,” I say, unable to keep the smile from my face.
“What’s that look for?” he asks, his eyebrows tugging together as his hands squeeze my ass.
“Just happy.”
He lifts an eyebrow, a weird look crossing his features, but then he’s turning around with me in his arms, walking the short distance to the passenger side door. He opens it, holding me with one hand, before dropping me inside and pulling my backpack off in one smooth motion. He tosses my bag onto the cramped back seat, closes the door, then rounds the front of the car, hopping in next to me.
“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
He ignores me, pushing the button that starts the engine, and it roars to life, vibrating my seat. “Freeway or scenic route?”
“Scenic route,” I say without hesitation, clicking my seatbelt into place. The interstate would be faster, wherever we’re going, but I love the way Thayer drives this thing on back roads. And let’s be honest, I’m in no hurry.
“That’s my girl,” he says, pulling his lip rings between his teeth. The comment is offhanded, but my stupid, girly insides turn to mush anyway.
He lays on the gas, driving out of the driveway and then speeding down the long, winding road that connects Heartbreak Hill to town. A few minutes in, Thayer’s hand slides between my legs, gripping the inside of my thigh. That little gesture makes me feel unexpectedly emotional. Memories of Thayer driving us around aimlessly for hours with one hand on the wheel and the other on my thigh pop into my mind, making me miss how it used to be. We thought things were complicated back then when our only worry was being found out. What I’d give to go back to the way we were, to have just one more day of all of us together.
I don’t know how much time passes—at least an hour—maybe more, when I finally realize where we’re going.
“Amherst?” I look over at him, raising a brow. I know he goes to school here—sometimes, anyway—I just don’t know why he brought me here.
“You hungry?” He pulls into a parking space in front of a café with a black awning that reads The Black Sheep Deli & Bakery.
“Starved.” Confused, but starved. He cuts the engine and we both get out, walking up to the café. Thayer opens the door and I head in first, taking in the cases of pastries and baked goods. Above those are blackboard menus with the day’s specials written in neon colors.
“Have you ever been here?” I ask, scanning the menu.
“Where the hell have you been hiding?” some guy with an apron asks behind us, slapping Thayer on the shoulder. I guess that answers my question.
“Back home,” he says, not offering more of an explanation than that. The man glances at me, folding his tattooed arms over his chest before sending Thayer a knowing look.
“Hey, Home. Nice to meet you. I’m Brax.” He holds out his hand and I shake it while Thayer rolls his eyes.
“I’m Shayne.”
“You guys hungry? What are you having?” he asks Thayer. “Turkey club and a coffee?” That’s oddly specific. He must come here a lot if they know his order by heart.
Thayer looks to me. “What do you want?”
“That sounds good to me.”
“Make that two. With a side of ranch and a pink lemonade for her.”
“Got it,” Brax says, walking behind the counter.
I bite my cheek to hide an amused smile as we slide into a booth, Thayer on one side, me on the other.