Pretty Sweet - Christina Lee Page 0,54
over.
“Of course.” I tossed him the keys and adjusted the baseball cap on my head. I watched as he pushed the seat back as far as it would go before climbing into the driver’s seat. “You hardly fit,” I teased.
“Are you telling me I don’t look good in your car?” he countered playfully.
“I’m pretty sure you look good all the time.” My eyes darted away, and I bit my lip.
“Hey.” His voice was husky, and it rubbed over my skin with the most welcomed kind of roughness. My eyes found him again, and he added, “You too.”
“Thanks.” I curtsied, just to be funny. If I didn’t, I was probably going to explode in embarrassing giddiness all over him.
He nodded and went back to the car. He started it, looked under the hood, and asked all sorts of car questions, stuff I wasn’t into, but I was definitely into watching him.
When he finished, he turned off my Mini Cooper and said, “You did good. She’s a good car.”
“Thank you.”
“What made you do it?”
I thought for a moment, pushed my hands into my pockets, and said, “It was time, I guess. Why shouldn’t I have the kind of car I want? I’m tired of feeling trapped, if that makes sense. Like I’m living out someone else’s life. I know it’s dumb. It’s a car. It doesn’t really change anything. But it felt good.” And it was because of him that I even had the guts to do it, but I didn’t tell him that part.
Jake got out of the car, closed the door, and cupped my cheek. I loved the way his big hand felt against my face. The gentleness with which he touched me.
“It doesn’t sound dumb. I think it’s pretty great.” Then, as if realizing what he was doing in public, Jake dropped his hand quickly and stepped back. “Anyway, we should go eat. It’s going to be cold by now. I didn’t mean to stay out here as long as we did.”
“It’s fine.”
We were quiet as we went inside. We plated our food and warmed it up in the microwave before eating at the table together. Jake asked me about Elsie and Harold, and what kind of look I gave her, and which songs I played at the facility. “You make a point to do that,” I found myself saying.
“What?”
“Talking to people about what’s important to them, even if it’s not something you’re into. It’s an awesome quality. Not many people have it. It shows you really care. I mean, not about me. I’m not saying you really care about me or don’t or that you like, care about me or anything. Oh my God, shut up, Seth!” I covered my face with my hands. The room was silent, so I spread my first two fingers and peeked through them at Jake.
“Jesus, you fucking kill me. Why are you so goddamned adorable?” Then he stood, leaned over the table, and pried my hands away from my face. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.” My voice had its own roughness to it when I replied, laced with want.
Jake pressed his lips to mine, teased the seam with his tongue. I opened up, and he slipped it inside. He cupped my face again, this time with both hands, before one slid down and held the back of my neck. Needy sounds filled the room, and it took me a moment to realize they were coming from me. Jake groaned in response, then pulled away.
“You go straight to my head,” he said softly, in awe, like it confused him.
“Yeah, you too…with me, I mean.”
He smiled, kissed the tip of my nose, then grabbed my plate. “When do you start back to school?”
“Not until the end of August.”
He set the dishes in the sink, then nodded toward the living room. I followed him over, and we sat on the couch.
“So you still have some time.”
“Yep. Thankfully. Mom wanted me to do this internship she arranged. If I’d taken it, I wouldn’t have been able to work at the Underground or keep volunteering at Rose City.” I wouldn’t have gotten to meet him.
“If it’s not something you want to do, I’m glad you didn’t do it.”
“Oh God. It’s not. I hate it. I don’t want to talk about that, though.”
“Okay, let’s talk about what you do like, then.”
Again, respect. He didn’t push.
“Makeup,” I replied. “And the piano.”
“But you don’t want to play music for a living? I mean, outside of the Underground. I know you said