Good.
It would serve that A-hole right having to hitch a ride with Mary Rogers, who apparently got dressed in the dark this morning and couldn’t find anything but a toddler’s T-shirt to cover her giant boobs.
Or better yet, maybe he can call that jackass Rick Stevens to come pick him up.
You know what they say: one giant jackass deserves another. (Actually, I just made that up, but it fits, don’t you think?)
I shrug into my jacket, thankful that it has a hood, and continue standing in the doorway of the restaurant, watching the rain come down in sheets. In the distance, lightning flashes, and my hand grips the door handle. It’s coming down so hard I have to psych myself up and count to three before I can make myself push the door open. Then, just as I’m about to give the door a shove, a large, warm hand covers my shoulder.
Of course I know who it is. I don’t even bother turning around.
“Can we talk about this?” His voice is inches from my ear. “Please. Let’s go sit down.”
I am too embarrassed and hurt to go back into the dining room. “Weston, just let me leave. You really… That was…” I shake my head and stare into the parking lot.
“Fine. Then let’s go out to your car.” He shoves the door open with the toe of his boot and envelops my hand in his, pulling me unceremoniously out into the pouring rain.
“SHIT SHIT SHIT!” I screech as we run to my car, water pelting our faces and splashing under our feet. Vainly, I thank God my hood is up and that my hair is staying dry. It’s gotten cold, and I can feel my shoes and pant legs getting soaked.
“Keys!” he shouts when we get to the Jeep. I fumble in my pocket, finally slapping them into his outstretched palm. Several seconds later, he’s opening the door to the driver’s seat and ushering me inside before jogging around to the passenger side.
Side by side in the dry shelter of my car, we shake ourselves off, both of us shucking off our rain-soaked jackets. The pounding on the roof is loud, and quarters inside the Jeep are so close that an intimate atmosphere is created inside the cab that isn’t normally there. Weston’s large body sits next to me, and suddenly I’m aware of his every breath. He swipes his large hand over his hair a few times before letting it fall to his thigh.
He turns his head to look at me and exhales. “This could take a while to pass. You want me to call someone to pick me up?”
I consider this and slowly shake my head. “No. Let’s see what happens, I guess. I probably shouldn’t be driving around in this either.” I let my neck relax back onto the headrest and stare up at the canvas roof, quickly praying to the waterproof gods that it doesn’t leak any time soon.
“So…I guess since we’re stuck here we might as well…you know, talk about what an ass I was back there.”
“I thought guys hated talking.”
“Yeah, about our feelings maybe, but not yours. On second thought, I’ve been doing a lot of shit lately that’s out of character, so what the hell do I know.” Weston shrugs and leans his brawny frame against the door. He has on a ratty old muscle shirt that actually has tons of rips and holes in it like Freddy Krueger got ahold of it, but it’s not bothering me one bit because it’s affording me glimpses of the smooth skin underneath.
A shirt that I’m itching to run my fingers under…to feel the smooth skin I’m itching to run my fingers over.
Embarrassed that I’m starting to picture him, um, you know, I clear my throat and look out the window. “I get that you were annoyed with Mary and Olivia, but…it was kind of embarrassing when you were so…”
“Rude?”
“No. When you were so…”
“Such an asshole?”
“No!” Oops, I think as I let a chuckle slip out. “Would you let me finish?” Honestly, he is worse than Jenna with this interrupting. “Look. I’ll just say this: I have no plans to go to any dances, with you or anybody, but seriously, did you have to sound so disgusted about it in front of Mary and Olivia? First they’re talking about me like I’m not there, then you go and get all pissed off when they ask about Fall Formal. We all get it: Weston doesn’t do dances.”
There. I got it all out without sounding whiny.
“Is that it? That’s why you got all huffy?”
“Uh, yeah. That pretty much sums it up.” I cross my arms and purse my lips. “And to be honest, Weston, I was hoping for a more enthusiastic response…so unfortunately for you, I will not be making out with you at the end of this date—or non-date.”