DROVE LIKE A DREAM.
When I got behind the wheel, I nearly forgot to check for any pursuit. In fact, I nearly forgot that I was supposed to be taking us to Wolfe's and showing Adrian how to use a stick shift. Instead, I was caught up in the way the engine hummed around us and in the scent of the leather.
Leaving his neighborhood, I had to restrain myself from flooring it in the crowded streets of downtown Palm Springs. This was a car screaming to be let loose on the open road. I had admired Brayden's Mustang, but I worshipped this one.
"I feel like I've just crashed someone's date," Adrian remarked, once we were getting on the highway. No one had tailed us out of downtown, making me feel much safer. "Like I'm intruding on you two. If you want to drop me off somewhere, I'll understand."
"Huh?"
I'd been paying careful attention to the way the car built up to higher speeds, both through sound and feel. The Mustang was in stunning shape. People often have the idea that classic cars are expensive. They are - if they're in good condition. Most aren't. When something's sat around for years without care, it inevitably falls apart, which is why so many older cars are fixer-uppers. Not Adrian's. This had been maintained and restored throughout the years and had probably never left the state of California - meaning it hadn't faced harsh winters. That all added up to a high price tag, making it that much more ludicrous that Adrian had bought something he couldn't drive.
I groaned. "I'm sorry... I don't know what I was thinking." Well, I kind of knew. I'd been wondering what my odds of a ticket would be if I broke the speed limit to see how fast we could go. "I should've been walking you through this as soon as I started the car. I promise I will when we leave Wolfe's, all the steps. For now, I guess we can recap the basics. This is the clutch..."
Adrian didn't seem annoyed by my neglect. If anything, he looked amused and simply listened to my explanations with a small, quiet smile on his face.
Wolfe looked just as disreputable as he had last time, complete with the eye patch and what I suspected were the same Bermuda shorts as before. I hoped he'd done laundry since then. Despite his appearance, he was ready to go when our class assembled and seemed competent in his subject matter. Although he reminded us again about the importance of avoiding conflicts and being aware of one's surroundings, he quickly moved past those points and focused on actually practicing more physical ways of protecting oneself.
Considering how much Adrian had complained last time about the "boring" safety talk, I figured he'd be excited that we were pretty much jumping right into some action. Instead, that amused look from the car vanished, and he grew increasingly tense as Wolfe explained what he wanted us to do in our partnered practice sessions.
When the time actually came to practice, Adrian looked blatantly unhappy.
"What's the matter?" I asked. I suddenly remembered last time, when Adrian had freaked out over my "attack." Maybe he hadn't really expected he'd have to work here. "Come on, these are simple. You won't get dirty."
Even when teaching more combative actions, Wolfe was still an advocate of keeping things fast and simple. We weren't trying to learn to beat someone up. These maneuvers were effective means of distracting an assailant so that we could escape. Most were done with the dummies, since we could hardly try to stick fingers in each other's eyes. Adrian went through those motions diligently, if silently. It was working directly with me that he seemed to have a problem with.
Wolfe noticed it too as he made his rounds. "Come on, boy! She can't try to escape if you don't try to hold her. She's not going to hurt you, and you won't hurt her." The maneuver in question was actually one that would've been helpful the night I'd been grabbed in the alley. So, I was eager to practice it and frustrated that Adrian kept only halfheartedly helping. He was supposed to put an arm around my torso and attempt to cover my mouth. Unfortunately, his efforts were so weak and his hold so loose that I didn't need any special techniques to escape. I could have simply walked right out of his arms.
With Wolfe there, Adrian made a slightly better