Drive Me Wild (Bellamy Creek #1)(31)

“I don’t know. Look at the way you up and left your old life without knowing what the future would bring.”

“Some people would call that stupid.”

“Well, I don’t.” Impulsively, I leaned forward and took her hand. “I think it was brave. I think somewhere inside you is a rebel Blair that’s dying to get out and show the world what she can do.”

She brightened up so much she nearly glowed. “Do you think I should get a tattoo?”

I had to laugh. “Let’s not go overboard. Why don’t we start by teaching you how to change a tire or something? Or how to jumpstart your car in case the battery ever goes dead. Those are two of the most common reasons people call for a tow.”

“That would be great,” she said. “Then I could help other people too, not just myself.”

I nodded. “There you go.”

She looked down at our clasped hands. “What am I going to teach you? How to speak French?”

“Hmm. Not sure that would come in too handy.”

“You’re right.” Then she giggled. “Remember that episode of Friends where Phoebe tries to teach Joey how to speak French?”

I shook my head. Right then I couldn’t think of anything except the way she was playing with my fingers, threading them through her own. My dick was reacting as if her hands were in my pants, not on the table.

“Anyway, it did not go well. I’ll think of something else. Oh!” She took her hand from mine and held up one finger. “I’ll teach you to cook something! Then you won’t have to order so much takeout.”

“That works,” I said, grabbing my beer and finishing it. “Although I’m not sure I’ll be a very good student.”

“You’ll be at least as good in the kitchen as I am in the garage,” she said. “And I bet you’re great with your hands.”

Our eyes met. Slowly, I set my empty bottle back on the table. The crotch of my jeans was hot and tight.

Her cheeks flamed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like—not that you wouldn’t be—I mean, I wouldn’t know if you’re—” Flustered, she flapped her hands at the wrist in front of her chest. “Help me, I’m talking, and I can’t shut up.”

I laughed. “It’s okay. I knew what you meant.” Lowering my voice, I said, “And just so you know, that’s a safe bet—I’m excellent with my hands.”

She remained flushed in the face as we finished eating, sneaking peeks at my fingers.

I fucking liked it. A lot.





When the bill was paid, we started walking back to my place.

After a couple minutes of silence, she looked over at me. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“It’s kind of out there.”

“Now I’m nervous. But go ahead.”

“If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you’re living now?”

I glanced at her with concern. “You okay?”

She laughed. “I’m fine. But it’s a question someone once asked me, and I said no. It was a lie, of course. And it haunted me for a long time.”

“Ah.”

“So what about you? Would you change anything?”

“Nope. My life is exactly the way I want it.”

“That’s amazing. I really admire the way you’ve always known what you wanted, and you just went for it.”

I thought for a moment. “I don’t know about that. I mean, I was an idiot for a lot of years.” We were approaching the door to my apartment, and I pulled the keys from my pocket.

“An idiot how?”

I shrugged. “When I was younger, I thought I knew everything. I didn’t.”

“Everything about what?”

“Life. And when I got an idea in my head, I just ran hard at it, top speed, balls out. I had no self-control whatsoever.”

She was quiet again for a moment. “I get what you mean. Not that I had balls, of course. But I thought I knew everything too.”

I laughed. “Probably everyone does when they’re eighteen or twenty-one, or even twenty-five. It takes maturity to see things more clearly. Learn the right lessons.” I unlocked the door and opened it for her, then followed her up the stairs, inhaling her vanilla-scented wake.

At the top of the stairs, she turned to face me. “What lessons have you learned?”

“Huh?” Moving past her, I switched on a light in the kitchen. I could not be alone with her in the dark.

“About life. What are the most important lessons you’ve learned?”

I walked over to the lamp next to the couch and switched it on. “I’ve learned that inner strength is just as important as outer strength, maybe more. I’ve learned that getting attached to people or things or ideas gives them too much power over you. And I’ve learned that the only person you can truly rely on is yourself.”

She stared at me across the room. “Wow, Griffin. That’s really bleak.”

“No, it isn’t,” I said defensively. “It’s practical. And it’s freeing. When you realize that you don’t need anyone else to be happy, you stop feeling like you’re missing something. You stop looking for it. You realize you’re fine with what you have.”