was acutely aware that she was watching me as I opened the door and then wheeled myself as close as I could to the seat, angling my chair in the exact position, just as I’d been taught. Reaching down, I locked the wheels and deftly lifted my legs from the footrests. There wasn’t any graceful way to do the next part; it either worked or it didn’t, and every time I had to transfer to a car that was new to me was a total crapshoot.
Tonight, at least in this moment, luck was on my side. I braced my hands just right and moved in the way I needed to, and there I was, exactly where I planned to land. The only thing I had to do now was drag my legs in with me. Once they were settled, I reached for the door and slammed it shut.
Zelda was looking at me through the window, and I didn’t miss the slight incline of her head, the small nod that acknowledged I’d done this right. I realized too late that I should’ve kept the door open long enough to show her how to fold the chair.
I shouldn’t have worried. She leaned down and examined the hinge mechanism for a few seconds before gripping it in the exact right spot. The wheelchair collapsed into its flattened form, and with admirable ease, Zelda opened the rear passenger door and hoisted it into the space behind me.
I watched out of the side of my eyes as she climbed into the driver’s seat, and I didn’t miss the play of her leg muscles when she shifted out of park and stepped on the brake. I took in the way the seatbelt thrust her boobs into prominence. And I appreciated the grace of the entire package—how she adjusted her stance and turned her head, her eyes alert and serious.
Zelda Porter was a total babe. I’d been trying to ignore this fact all year, but now that we were about to finish for the summer, I allowed myself the pleasure of admitting this, of admiring her. Once upon a time, I thought, we would’ve been the golden couple: the football star and the chick with super model looks and genius-level intelligence. We would’ve been the pair everyone else at Birch loved to hate, because we were just that gorgeous and lucky.
“Why did you come out tonight?”
Her question jerked me out of my brooding, and I glanced at her in surprise.
“I was bored.” Clearing my throat, I added, “I didn’t want to go to the bar. That kind of place, with all those people, is a nightmare for me.”
“But going to a crowded party at a frat house seemed like a good idea?” She sounded amused and slightly skeptical.
“No. But it sounded . . . manageable.” I rubbed the palm of my hand down my denim-covered thigh. “I’ve been a hermit this year.”
“Hmmmm.” Zelda’s eyebrow quirked up. “Why?”
This was one question I’d spent a lot of time considering. “Maybe because it was familiar. Maybe because it was safe. Maybe because it was . . . penance.” I lifted a shoulder. “Who knows?”
“Penance?” This thought seemed to intrigue her, as one delicate pale eyebrow lifted. She smirked. “Tell me, Eli, just what do you have to be penitent about?”
“Eh.” I coughed a little and stared out the window. Zelda drove through campus slowly, probably mindful of the security out in full force tonight. “Uh, I was kind of a dick in high school.”
She laughed. “Weren’t we all? That doesn’t seem like a reason to punish yourself now.”
“Maybe penance isn’t the right word. Reformation might be a better way of saying it. I’m a reformed dick, and that’s why I avoid fun.”
“Because fun brings out your inner dickness?”
I exhaled and closed my eyes, dropping my head against the headrest. “It’s possible that I’m afraid of a relapse into dickness. That if I let myself get into . . .certain situations, I might fall back into bad habits.” I opened one eye and glanced at Zelda. “And I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Sorry for the info dump.”
One side of her mouth crooked up. “Sometimes it’s easier to share stuff like this with a stranger. Or with someone who’s practically a stranger, anyway.”
The idea that she thought of us that way somehow pissed me off. “We’re not strangers. Are we? We’ve known each other since last fall.”
“Have we? You and I haven’t had a legit conversation until now.