“Only because it has stripes, though?” I confirm.
He raises his eyebrows as pride flashes through his green eyes. “Damn straight,” he tells me. “Now, get your fine ass in the car. ”
I do as I’m told and even I have to admit that it’s one hell of a nice car. It’s sleek, sexy, and for a guy’s car, surprisingly clean. It’s clear he takes great pride in it and so he should. It’s another good quality I’m quickly learning this stranger possesses. Which makes me wonder why he’s letting me in like this. Don’t get me wrong, he’s the first human being, other than my father, to bother having a decent conversation with me in months, and if I’m honest, I’m kind of liking it, despite the fact that I can’t trust a word he says.
Noah drops down into the driver’s seat and I can’t help but roam my eyes over him once again. His tattooed arm reaches out as he slides the key into the ignition and gives it a turn. The Camaro rumbles to life and I feel it right down in my soul, and a few other places that won’t be named. This car is loud and domineering, just like its owner.
A brief worry flutters through me that he’ll probably get in trouble for ditching school until I remember who I’m sitting beside. Noah Cage isn’t one to shy away from a detention. Hell, half the time he’s not even here. I’ve wondered on occasion where the hell he and his friend Rivers go all the time, but then I remind myself that I don’t actually give a shit.
Noah props his arm up behind my seat and I get those warm fuzzies down in the pit of my stomach as he reverses out of his spot. I don’t know why, but I’ve always found something so sexy about the way a guy would put his hand up on the back of a chair when reversing. I mean, when Jackson would do it…damn.
He pulls out onto the road and hits the gas, forcing me back into the chair. “Your dad is the one with the big ass truck, right?” he questions.
A smile spreads across my face, thinking how dad would get a kick out of the way he called it a ‘big ass truck.’ “Yeah,” I say. “How’d you know?”
Noah scoffs. “Babe, I drive past your house every single day. It wasn’t exactly hard to figure out, and don’t act like you don’t notice me, my car isn’t exactly quiet.”
“I know,” I groan, thinking off all the times I’ve heard the rumble of his engine shooting past my house in the middle of the night, waking me out of a peaceful sleep. It always makes me curious to know where the hell he could be going so late, but I don’t dwell on it long. The answers are pretty obvious. You know, either a late night screw or an illegal race.
I swear, this guy must be living the life. He has it all. The respect of his peers, a cool car, the good looks, and an ego that has his confidence soaring through the roof. I wish I had that. Though, I guess I used to. I’m basically a shell of the girl I used to be.
“So, what’s your deal?” he asks. “Don’t you usually drive that old pick up to school? Why were you walking in the rain?”
I let out a heavy sigh, wondering why he would even care. Maybe it’s just polite small talk. “Yeah,” I tell him. “The bastard wouldn’t start this morning and now I have to work out how to change the oil or fork out the cash for someone to do it for me.”
“Surely your old man can do it, right?” he questions as he pulls up at a red light.
“Usually,” I explain. “He’s out on a job, so I can either wait until he gets home this weekend and suffer walking through the rain every day, or I can get it fixed myself.”
“Does that happen often?” he questions.
“What? Dad being gone?”
“Yeah.”
I nod. “All the time. It’s our normal.”
“No mom?”
I shake my head.
He glances over and considers me a moment before returning his eyes to the traffic. “Must get lonely,” he comments with a strange emotion rattling his voice, though I can’t quite figure out what’s put it there.
“Nah,” I shrug. “I mean, it did at first, but I got used to it. I like being alone.”
“I’ll tell you what,” he grins before deciding to take pity on me, clearly seeing through my blatant lie. “I’ll fix the pick up if you make me lunch.”
I study him for a moment, briefly wondering why the hell he wants to help me, but the offer is too good to pass up. I don’t even bother thinking about how effed up the idea of us having lunch together is. I mean, it’s simply something that’s never supposed to happen. The untouchable, popular guy spending time with the designated loser. I mean, so cliché, right?