I throw my toiletries and array of chargers into the bag and watch as he gives me a smug look before stalking out of my room. “Get your keys to your car,” he demands as he walks down the stairs. “I’m not driving your sorry ass around all the time.”
“No, can do,” I tell him. “I don’t drive it.”
“What?” he grunts, stopping on the second last step and turning to face me. “What do you mean you don’t drive it? There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s brand new.”
“It’s a stick,” I reply.
“So?”
“So, I don’t drive a stick,” I say, throwing my hands up, annoyed that I’m even explaining this to him.
He scoffs as he watches me. “You’re telling me, your dad bought you a car that you don’t know how to drive?”
I ignore his comments and storm past him as I make my way down the rest of the stairs. My body rushes past his, bumping his shoulder on the way past. I head into the kitchen and grab my house keys before marching to the front door, which Nate has left wide open.
I look out into the driveway and see the famous Camaro. Nate’s matte black Chevrolet Camaro with black rims. The car that every single person in the senior year talks about. The boys all want it for themselves while all the girls dream about getting in there with him and letting him take them for a ride followed by a different ride in the back seat or on the hood. The car is sexy and screams danger, just like it’s driver.
This is the car that I never in one hundred years thought I’d be getting into.
“Hurry up,” Nate demands.
I let out what must be my hundredth huff in the last fifteen minutes before turning around to set the alarm and lock the door. I cautiously get into Nate’s stupid car as though I’m about to catch a disease. He turns on the engine and it purrs to life. The engine vibrates right through the seats and I feel it against my lady bits and right up into my core.
I adjust myself on the seat and don’t miss the smirk on Nate’s face as he peels up the driveway before leaning out the window and entering the code for the gate. “How the hell do you know the code?” I question.
“It’s been the same for the last seventeen years,” he scoffs. “1005. October fifth. Your birthday.”
I rip my eyes away from him, not sure how that makes me feel. I mean, sure, back when we were younger that could be something I’d assume he would know, but not now. Surely, he would have forgotten those details about me.
I focus on looking out the window and ignoring the wickedly sexy man beside me. He doesn’t deserve my attention. Not one ounce of it.
Nate jams his knee up under the steering wheel and frees his hands so he can easily pull a cigarette out of the box and light it up. I have to admit, watching how easily he can control his car with just one knee is pretty damn impressive, yet the fact that he’s doing it so he can inhale a cancer stick has me just as disgusted.
A few minutes later, he pulls up to his place and I look up at it with a million different emotions rushing through me.
I used to come here all the time. That only stopped when mom decided I was old enough to make my own decisions about where I’d like to spend my days. It could also have something to do with the fact that she and Trish liked to have a few glasses of wine and would always lose track of time, staying up until crazy hours of the morning talking. After the third time that happened and Nate’s dad had to scoop me off the couch, she stopped bringing me. That decision made me the happiest little girl in the world.
Yet, here I am again. Facing the house I hated coming to as a teenager. I mean, when I was younger I liked to come as I loved hanging out with Nate and Jesse. They were always so cool and fun. They got to run around and make a mess in the back yard. They could swim all day and invite their friends over. I loved it here until things changed.
Nate’s door slamming has me jerking out of my thoughts and I groan as I get myself out of his car. I watch as he walks up the stairs of his home with my bag in his hand. I have to admit, I didn’t think he’d take it for me, though, that thought is shut down as he opens the door and dumps the bag right in the middle of the entryway. I narrowly escape tripping over it before I watch as he darts up the stairs.