The Second Virginity of Suzy Green - By Sara Hantz Page 0,48

I have a sneaking suspicion he won’t agree.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” I say, opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat.

“Mom wasn’t impressed with me asking you to leave and told me so.”

Ryan chuckles. “Don’t worry about it.”

I sense his eyes on me as I straighten my skirt out from where it’s got all caught and wriggle around to make myself a bit more comfortable. I meant what I said about not caring about cars, but next time I’m in here I might just bring a cushion—if there is a next time, which I doubt.

“Well it’s good to see you haven’t totally changed beyond all recognition,” Ryan says, grinning at me.

“Excuse me?” I scowl at him. His lopsided grin might have made me go all silly once but it doesn’t work now. And if he’s going to insult me the whole day then I’m going back home. Screw him. I know who Lori and others will believe if he tries to say anything about me.

“Hey. Calm down. I only meant since meeting again this is the first time you’ve looked remotely like the old Suzy. You know. With your clothes and that.”

Well, how was I to know that’s what he meant?

“That’s okay then.” I turn away, to hide the flush that I can feel creeping up my face, and stare out of the window. “Between you and me,” I say after a few moments, “it feels good to be like this. Not that it changes things.” I thump the car seat and a puff of dust shoots up. Gross. He could have vacuumed the car before coming around. Then again, why should he? He’s not making an effort either. “I have my goal for the year and if it means making some sacrifices then that’s fine with me.”

“Amen,” Ryan says.

“Okay so I do sound a bit preachy. I admit it.”

“A bit. That’s an understatement. Anyway, before we go anywhere I want you to know your secret, or should I say our secret is safe. I don’t want you worrying about it all day long and not enjoying yourself.”

“It is?” What a guy. Don’t you just love him? In the platonic sense I mean.

“Yep. So, lets go.”

I pretend to be concentrating on the road ahead while Ryan starts the car and drives away from my house, but really I’m giving him the once over through my peripheral vision. You know, this whole going-out that’s not a going-out thing would be a lot easier if he still wasn’t so hot.

And why did he have to wear that blue polo shirt with his jeans. He knows I think he looks good in blue. I remember when we were strolling through the park at camp we had this long conversation about colors and which ones he should wear. Not that he’ll remember. Why should he? Color is such a girly thing.

Suzy, enough already.

I’m right, this has got to stop. We’re a couple of friends out on a day trip. And if I start to go down the reminiscing road one more time I’ll—um—I’ll—

“Is that a yes or no?” Ryan’s question pulls me back from threatening myself.

“Sorry?”

“I thought you weren’t listening. You had that faraway look in your eyes.”

“You shouldn’t be studying my eyes, you should be concentrating on the road.” Help, I’m being visited by my mother.

“Yes, Mom.” See, even Ryan felt it.

He takes hold of the steering wheel with both hands and keeping his arms straight he leans forward and peers ahead—trying to look serious except he keeps smirking.

“Okay, okay,” I say giggling. “Normal service will resume shortly. Parental invasion intercepted and dealt with. Now what was the question?”

“The tickets allow us into the stands, which means we can sit down, or would you rather hang by the trackside? It makes a difference to which car-park I go into.”

“Up to you. They’re your tickets.” Choose the trackside. Please choose the trackside. I’ve never been that close before. Though I guess it could be dangerous if one of them crashes.

“Our tickets.” Aw, he’s so sweet. “I fancy the trackside, but if you’d rather be a bit further away that’s fine. It’s quite noisy when you’re that close.”

“Are you kidding? I’d love to be that close. It’s so exiting.” I jump around in my seat like a small kid going to a party, then realize he must think me stupid and immature so quickly freeze and jam my waving hands under my legs to keep them still.

The rest of the journey goes in