Playing Patience

Page 27

“I don’t drive. I’m waiting for my friend Megan to pick me up. She’s supposed to be here. I’m sure she’s on the way.” She bit the inside of her mouth.
“But you haven’t heard from her and she isn’t here?” I sighed and flexed my hand around my steering wheel.
“She’ll be here. I’ll be fine.”
I pushed my head back into the headrest in aggravation and sighed. “Just let me drive you home. Text your friend and tell her you have a ride.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather just wait.”
I looked down at her and rolled my eyes.
“Are you scared I’ll take advantage of you once you’re in my car? Because if that’s the case, trust me when I say you have nothing to worry about.”
And she didn’t. Not because I didn’t think she was attractive, because I did. I wanted to peel off every piece of clothing she wore, except those hot knee-high soccer socks, and have my way with her. The reason she had nothing to worry about was because I knew better than to jump the rich man’s fence. Plus, she was probably a virgin and virgins tend to be clingy and annoying afterward.
“While it’s nice to know you think I’m a dog, I’d still rather just wait for Megan. Thanks anyway.” She gave me a quick, sarcastic smile.
At that exact moment, her phone dinged. She looked down and sighed. Then she shook her head and looked back up at me.
“Offer still stands,” I said as I let off the brake and inched up like I was about to ride off without her.
“Fine.” She stood and swiped at the dirt on the back of her shorts.
She walked around the front of my car and my headlights illuminated her thick thighs as she cut a path in front of me. I reached over and unlocked the passenger-side door and pushed it open. She slipped in next to me, shut the door, and then reached over for the seatbelt that no longer existed.
“No seatbelt, but if you’re worried you’ll fly out of the car, you can slide over and I’ll hold you in.” I grinned over at her as we drove off.
She fiddled with her hands in her lap as I pulled out of the parking lot. All that did was draw my attention to her legs. I followed her thighs down to her knees and back up. I wanted to reach over, slide my hand over her thigh, and rest my fingers in the warmth between her legs. I looked up and saw her watching me as I stared at her legs. She looked away quickly like she didn’t catch me checking her out, and I chuckled softly to myself.
“So, what’s the deal with you? Do you, like, kick puppies during your free time and stuff?” she asked as she worked the lever ‘round and ‘round to roll the window down.
I was shocked that she even knew how to use it, since I’m sure every car she’d ever been in had automatic windows and air-conditioning.
“I don’t kick puppies, just people.” I looked over and watched as the headlights from oncoming cars dashed across her face. The light reflected in her eyes when she looked over at me.
“Something pretty bad must’ve happened to you when you were younger to make you so angry,” she said casually.
“Why do you say that?” I couldn’t help but ask.
She was silent for a few seconds before she finally responded.
“I know broken people when I see them.” She looked away and focused on the passing trees.
I assumed this was the part where she was going to try to psychoanalyze and then fix me. A lot of women had tried, but none ever succeeded. Some of those women were hardcore and understood what it was to have nothing and live a shitty life. The princess in the passenger seat knew nothing of those things.
“Pfft. You know nothing about being broken,” I snapped.
“Yeah, I guess not.” She looked down and shook her head.
Suddenly, the memory of the way her dad treated her and the fact that she had an old, healing bruise across her cheek popped into my head. I felt like shit the minute I thought about it. Who’s to say this girl didn’t get her ass kicked once a week like me?
I knew right away when we made it to her side of town. The trees, broken-down buildings, and trailers were replaced with medium-sized brick houses and then massive houses surrounded by iron fences and perfectly manicured lawns.
She directed me where to go and I turned left or right when she told me to. That was the extent of the conversation for the rest of the ride. When I pulled up to her house, I was taken aback by how huge it was. Why did these people need such big-ass houses? It was a huge, white, two-story house with big columns and about twenty-five windows just on the front. There was a Jaguar parked in the driveway and a plush, green lawn. The sprinklers popped up and water began to squirt all over.