Next Man Up (Making the Score #2) - Tawdra Kandle Page 0,27
heading back now, anyway. My car’s right over here in the lot.” She paused. “If it’ll make you feel better, I can drop you off behind the dorm and you can go in by yourself, so no one sees you with me.”
I scowled up into her face, searching for a trace of irony or hurt. But she was expressionless, watching me, waiting.
“Why wouldn’t I want to be seen with you?” I pivoted. “Why would you say that?”
“Oh, come on, Eli. Don’t treat me like I’m an idiot. I know what people say, and I know what they think of me. Just because I don’t care doesn’t mean I don’t hear the whispers. I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting anyone to think you’d been with me tonight.”
“That’s not it. I don’t give a rat’s ass about what others might think. Actually, you could only make me look better, right? The pathetic dude in the wheelchair is getting lucky. Then again, we’re probably both safe, since no one would believe that happened.”
“Which means you should stop stalling and just let me drive you back.” She rubbed the back of her neck, like it might be stiff, and sighed. “I’m tired, and I want to be in my own room. Let’s go.”
Zelda began walking away from me into the darkness. I considered being stubborn and refusing her offer again, but I had a feeling that in the long run, she was going to get her way. I might as well give in now and reap the benefit of riding in her car. This time of night, on a Saturday, the U-Van wouldn’t get to me for at least an hour. I had no desire to sit out here and wait for it.
My wheels crunched over the gravel. This wasn’t exactly easy-going, and silently I thanked my physical therapists for coercing me into all the upper body strength work I’d continued doing even after I’d been officially dismissed from therapy. That training meant that I was able to move myself across tougher terrain that I might have been otherwise able to do.
Strangely, I realized that I had no idea what Zelda drove. I’d never seen her car before now. I guessed it wasn’t so odd; we hadn’t been friends over this last year, just . . . friends of friends. Friends-in-law. But now that she was actually talking to me and making me feel like she saw me as a real person, it seemed we should’ve known more about each other, after living in the same community for nine months.
I fully expected her to have a sleek little sports car, something gorgeous and built for sin, just like she was. But when she stopped and unlocked the driver’s side door, it was of a sensible mini-SUV in a very boring beige.
“Do you drive your mom’s car?” I blurted out the question before I thought about it.
Zelda glanced at me and snorted. “Hardly. This is mine. It’s hybrid, it’s reliable, and it gets amazing mileage. Plus, the insurance is better than it would be on something flashier.” She lifted one shoulder. “I supposed you thought I drove . . . what, a Corvette? A Porsche? Something red and low to the ground? Sorry to disappoint you.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I just . . . it seems like a, um, very smart kind of car. Sensible.”
“It’s sensible enough that you should be able to maneuver into the passenger seat, and I can stow your chair in the back.” She skirted the back of the car and pointed to the door. “Can you open that wide enough to get in, or would you like me to give you a hand?”
It was on the tip of my tongue to shoot her a suggestive comeback, but I buttoned my lip, because with Zelda, I just wasn’t sure how she’d respond. She was as unpredictable as a wild tiger, I thought . . . and possibly just as dangerous.
“I think I can do it, if you don’t mind dealing with the chair. Haven’t quite mastered the ability to fold it up once I’m actually in the car.” I spoke wryly, hoping she could hear the underlying truce in my words. I might have been a grumpy, short-tempered son of a bitch, but I knew that Zelda had done me a favor, both inside at the party and by offering to drive me back to the dorm. I wasn’t going to screw that up.