Double Clutch - Реинхардт Лиз - Страница 38

Saxon smirked while my mother told me she loved me.

“Tell her I love her, too,” he said in a stage whisper.

I gripped my phone in my hand. “Tell her yourself when you get to my house,” I dared him. He shut up.

We rode for a little while in silence. I tried to make mine a pointed, obvious silence, but Saxon refused to acknowledge there was anything weird about my lack of conversation. He seemed perfectly comfortable with the whole thing.

“Pretty crazy weather, eh Blix?” He knew it was ironic to bring up something as mundane as the weather when we had such strong emotions broiling between us.

“It sucks.” Mom would say I was being petulant. So what if I sounded like a priss? That’s how I felt.

“I think it was fate.” He leaned back in his seat. He looked good, and I knew he knew it. His jet black hair was a little too long and messy. His eyes were dark and knowing, and his shirt and pants were obviously too light for the weather, but he didn’t even have a goosebump. And even though I really didn’t want to notice it, it was hard to ignore how his sculpted muscles popped against his Sex Pistols t-shirt and his ripped-up pinstriped suit pants.

“I don’t think fate had anything to do with this. This is just you creeping around where you knew I’d be passing,” I said a little too firmly. Because I had a huge superstitious streak and that usually made me believe firmly in fate. But I didn’t want to in this instance.

“I think you’re a liar. Don’t be so glum, Blix. It’s not cheating to take a ride. Even if it is from me.”

“Jake would never care,” I said hotly, all the hotter about it because I was secretly a little nervous he would care, and also a little annoyed I was even thinking that way.

Saxon shrugged. “I thought you would be more concerned, now that your Jake’s girl.”

“Like I said before,” I snapped, “I’m my own girl. No one else’s.” No matter how much I liked Jake, I would never think of myself as belonging to him. The very idea made me shudder a little.

“So how about Folly?” Saxon made a stab at neutral conversation. “I heard you gave them some designs that were pretty awesome. You and me should go to the show next Saturday.” And then he brought it right back into uncomfortable territory.

“No thanks,” I said automatically.

His smile curled over his face like smoke curling from a burning cigarette. “You aren’t remotely interested in how your design will sell?”

I was. And I liked Folly. I managed to ignore the fact that Saxon made the Folly mix for me and spent a few nights listening to it. I definitely got into their music. “I’m not saying I won’t go. I just don’t want to go with you.”

Saxon leaned over and upped the heat until every dial was set to maximum. I started to sweat in my seat.“Well, however you get there, I’ll be there, too, so it will technically be a date.”

I balked at his words and resisted the urge to throw my coat off. “That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Really?” he challenged. “I’m asking you to meet me at the Folly concert. If you’re there on Saturday, you accepted my date request.”

I glanced at the speedometer and saw he was hardly doing fifteen miles an hour. This ride would never end. “I’ll go with Jake.” I unknotted my scarf, dragged my hat off, and put my mittens in my lap, and I was still sweltering. I didn’t know what was more uncomfortable; the extreme heat of the car’s interior or the slow, hot burn of rage that spread through me in response to Saxon’s ridiculous games.

“Isn’t the motocross race at the Valley next Saturday?” he taunted.

My ears burned. I had forgotten! Jake hadn’t said anything about it for days. I already told him I would go. I even wanted to. How was I going to line everything up?

Now I was aggravated, and Saxon was purposefully crawling along even more slowly. I knew there was no way he’d drive this slowly even in a blizzard. He just wanted to torture me.

“Can we talk about something else?” I growled. I hated his arrogant smile and the way he knew exactly which buttons to push to get me going.

“Sure,” Saxon drawled. “What would you like to talk about, Brenna?” The way he said my name was warm and slow, and it coiled down low in my gut.

“Are you doing any sports this fall?” I asked, my voice falsely bright.

“Yeah.” He shot me a smile. “I’m a forward.”

“Like on the soccer team?” He didn’t seem like a joiner, let alone one of the most important members of the soccer team.

“Like on the soccer team. So are you doing any sports? Cheerleading?” He suggested with a laugh. “Kidding,” he added, and I smiled despite my best attempt to scowl at him.

“I was thinking about track,” I admitted.

“You should. You run like Gump.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I know. I’ve heard you and your friends chanting for me.”

“You’re inspiring, Blix.” His tone wasn’t joking anymore. He looked at me with this expression of naked appreciation that I noticed every once in a while. Saxon didn’t try to hide it when he looked at me that way. He clearly wanted me to see it.

“And I’m sure you make all of the girls burn with desire when you’re on the field.” I shrugged out of my jacket, finally completely broken under the heat torture. “At first I didn’t think soccer forward fit you, but it actually makes perfect sense. You’re the center of attention, calling all of the shots and having everyone worship you. Perfect.”

“Are you calling me a diva?” Saxon grabbed a pack of Tic Tacs from the assorted wrappers, empty cigarette packets, and crumpled papers scattered on the dash and offered them to me.

“I call ‘em like I see ‘em.” I accepted his tiny orange peace offering. “I would have been home ten minutes ago if I rode my bike.”

“Or you would have been dead. Bikes aren’t made for snowstorms.” He held out his hand so I could shake more Tic Tacs in his palm, and I did. “You’re kind of obnoxious.”

“Glad you think so.” I flipped the vents down and pointed the hot air at my feet. “Let’s not be friends.”

“Friends,” he scoffed and tossed the candies into his mouth. “We’re so similar, we should join alliances. The two most obnoxious people on earth would be a true force to be reckoned with.”

“We are not alike.” I really wanted to mean it.

He drove with one hand on the steering wheel, his head turned to look at me. “Why do you think we drive each other crazy? Why do you think there’s that certain something in the air whenever we’re around each other? We’re alike. We attract each other.” His voice was low and smoky in my ears.