Girl Crush(36)

Me: I’d love to.

Collier: I’ll pick you up at 10 am. Wear tennis shoes. You do own a pair, right?

Me: What are those?

Collier: I’ll see you in the morning.

Me: Can I drive your car there?

Collier: Bye, Giselle.

One day, he would let me get behind the wheel of that vehicle. I didn’t know when or how, but I’d wear him down.

The next morning, West knocked on my door precisely at ten. I’d been up for hours and struggled with my wardrobe selection. This wasn’t a date, but I still wanted to look attractive. I didn’t log hours of calorie burns for nothing, and it was hot outside. Finally, after a dozen outfit changes, I’d decide on shorts and a fitted T-shirt. With my hair in a curled ponytail and light makeup, I looked cute without appearing to have tried too hard. I didn’t want him to get the wrong impression. Not that he would since he had no clue I’d ever preferred stick to pocket.

My feeble attempt to win over the driver’s seat of the Porsche failed again when he escorted me to the passenger side.

“You have insurance, right?”

He completely ignored me as he started the car.

“So why didn’t you take one of your meathead friends to this thing?” I asked as I fiddled with the radio without invitation.

West just grinned while I tried to pair my phone with his stereo system. “They aren’t all that into cars. I thought you’d have more fun. It would have been wasted on them.”

I found that hard to believe. There wasn’t a guy alive who didn’t get a chubby from a sports car.

“Where did you pick up your love of automobiles, anyhow?”

“My dad’s a gearhead. I’m an only child, and he’d hoped for a boy. When he didn’t get one, instead of complaining, he just made sure he taught me all he wanted to teach a son.”

“That sucks.”

“Quite the contrary. My mom is the epitome of feminine, my dad has this fantastic mind for all things mechanical, and I got the best of both worlds. We worked on cars during the day, and at night, my mom had me in beauty pageants. I think I turned out okay.” My childhood had been amazing. I wasn’t one of those kids who bad mouthed their parents or blamed them for the way their life ended up. They had been—and still were—great people.

“You don’t look like the type to enjoy getting your hands greasy under the hood of a car.”

“Looks can be deceiving, I guess. It was probably more about spending time with my dad than the actual mechanics of it. He spent years restoring a ’66 Mustang Fastback. I can’t look at one today and not think about the years he invested in that car. He still drives it today. What about your childhood? Was it all business meetings and tutors?”

“Nah. My childhood was great. My parents were awesome. My dad worked too much, but he was home every night, devoted to my mom and us. My mom was a first-grade teacher and adored Beck and me.”

We pulled in, and I was instantly overwhelmed by the number of cars in the parking lot. Crowds didn’t normally bother me, but for some reason, I was on edge. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. I stood outside the car taking in the sights and the sounds of engines zooming around the track.

“You ready?”

Those two words jerked me out of my state of shock and brought me back to reality. “Absolutely.”

I was disappointed to find out we didn’t actually get to drive the cars, rather ride at speeds in excess of one hundred and fifty miles an hour. But the moment I got suited up and the car took off, I had forgotten all about my disappointment and clung to the door, enjoying the ride. Gravity forced me back into the seat, and I’d never felt the exhilaration of true speed before now.

West and I had gone separately, so I waited for him after I got out of the car and took off the protective equipment they’d forced on us after signing our lives away in release paperwork. He was all smiles when I finally hooked back up with him.

“Have fun?” he asked with anticipation.

“Oh my God, yes! Thank you for bringing me.”

“Anytime. Feel like grabbing some lunch?”

I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. My stomach growled at the mention of food.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said through a laugh.

His hand landed on the small of my back to escort me through the waiting crowd and out the door. I kept telling myself it was meaningless—it was what guys did. But I couldn’t help the warm, fuzzy feeling that crept through me from the simple gesture, or the burn the heat from his hand left on my spine. But the instant we were out the door, his hand fell from my body, and with it went the sense of protection.

Lunch was stilted and awkward because I’d made it that way. I was caught somewhere between men and women, not really craving either but desperate for both. I’d watched my friends in budding relationships with their sexual needs being met while my most intimate encounter had been with the guy at the sex shop when I purchased a new dildo, and he’d raved about my selection. Heather’s text mid-meal only made things odder, but West didn’t seem to notice.

“Who was that?” he questioned with a mouthful of burger.

I didn’t know how to answer the question because I didn’t know the answer myself. “Just a friend. Heather.”