I stare ahead at the dark road, then listen to the rumble of the engine and the soft country music playing on the radio so quietly, I barely noticed until now that it’s been on this whole time.
I’m not sure how to respond to him.
All I know is, I think I like the words he’s saying.
Even if they terrify me a little bit.
What if it isn’t Chad who’s playing with my heart here? I have to wonder. I’m the one who heads back to LA tomorrow night. What if it’s me who’s playing with his?
“So what’s in that little purse of yours?”
The question throws me. “My little what?” Then I realize he’s talking about my satchel. My innocent look turns into a glare. “It isn’t a purse. It’s a satchel I made myself from an expensive faux leather. And it has my wallet and phone in it, as well as …” I let out a chuckle as I remember what else is in it. “Oh, shit. I forgot.”
“What?”
“Something … else … that’s in it.” I laugh a bit more. Though he isn’t looking at me, my face is turning red. “I totally forgot.”
“Well, don’t leave me hangin’!”
“No. I’m not going to tell you. Just forget about it, okay?”
“We’re almost at the Evans’, so you might as well tell me.”
A glance through the window shows the bright lights of a big house far across the treeless fields. “It’s nothing.”
With a jerk of the wheel, Chad pulls off the road, then throws the truck into park and turns in his seat to face me. He smolders me with his fiery blue eyes, waiting for an answer.
Despite the look of astonishment on my face, I finally let out a long, red-faced sigh, and give in. “I was in a very different state of mind earlier today, alright? I gotta preface with that.”
“You mean when you were hidin’ from me?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow. “In the store?”
“Something like that. I, um …” We just jerked each other off a while ago. You would think I would be comfortable enough now to tell him just about anything. “Alright, okay. Look. I was mad at you, right? Remember all of that? And you were demanding my forgiveness, pretty much.”
“I wasn’t demandin’ it.”
“So I went to a certain store and I got a certain thing, and …” I feel my heart skip a beat. “Okay, this is dumb. But … I decided on what you’d have to do in order for me to forgive you.”
“Oh, yeah? I’m supposed to do somethin’?”
“You’re supposed to … wear something.”
His eyes are wide and his mouth is hanging open like I’d just slapped him. “Wear somethin’?”
“Yep.”
He continues to stare at me, openmouthed and unblinking.
“I thought maybe the only way I could forgive you,” I go on, “is if you agreed to humiliate yourself as badly—or worse—as you did to me when we were teenagers.”
His mouth shuts and he swallows hard, then his eyes narrow with suspicion as he stares me down. “Which store did you go to, Goodwin?”
“The name’s Lance. I’m not an athlete.”
“Victoria’s Secret? You get me some panties?”
“Almost, warm.”
“Costume store? You get me some embarrassing costume or somethin’? A donkey suit?”
“Nope, cold.”
“A big, giant penis costume? You want me to wear a big, giant penis costume?”
I sigh. “Really, Chad? Does it look like this tiny satchel can fit a ‘big, giant penis costume’?”
He’s at a genuine loss. “So what the hell is it, Lance? What did you want me to wear?”
“It’s a jockstrap.”
The word seems to suck all the air out of this suddenly-very-small-and-cramped truck. Or maybe that’s just me. Or maybe it just seems that way because the second I uttered the words, I shut my eyes and retreated into my shell.
“And …” His voice is deep and hollow. I can’t tell if he’s still at a loss, or trying not to laugh. It might be somewhere in the middle there. “… you wanted me to … uh … wear it? To humiliate me? How does that humiliate me?”
I regret it. I regret everything. I’ve never been as skilled at the fine art of revenge as my more manipulative and far more daring counterpart Salvador. “I would’ve said you had to wear … just the jockstrap. To the party tonight. That was going to be my big bad ultimatum in order to forgive you.”
“Just the jockstrap …?”
“Yep.”
“Am I hearin’ this right? You were gonna ask me—”
“Goddamn it, Chad, I told you what the thing was.” Can my face get any redder than it already is? Talk about an expired revenge plan backfiring. “Now you know the thing. A dumb jockstrap idea thing. I decided on it when I was quite sure I wanted nothing to do with you. Obviously things have changed.”
“I just … expected somethin’ bigger.”
My eyes snap open. I turn to him, surprised. “Really?”