Trade Me (Cyclone #1)(31)

She inhales sharply. “Fine.” And then she turns to leave.

“One other thing.”

She turns back to me slowly. She doesn’t say anything.

“It’s okay to like me,” I tell her. “Eventually, just about everyone does.”

TINA

My hands are shaking by the time I go to his car.

It’s okay to like me.

Too late; that seed was planted weeks ago. I’m a shitty enough liar that Blake’s already seen everything I wanted to keep hidden. This isn’t going to work.

A voice in the back of my mind stirs—my mother’s voice, dimly remembered. Xingjuan, you have to be careful.

Ha. As if my mother was ever careful about anything. I yank the door handle—it still freaks me out that the handle comes out of the car for me as I approach—and, once I’m in, slam the door.

Maria is waiting for me in the passenger seat. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t point out that my hands are shaking. She knows I’ll say something about it as soon as I’m ready.

This isn’t some beat-up, decades-old Camry like my parents drive. Blake gave me a brief explanation on the way over. This is a completely electric vehicle, something so new and space-age shiny I wasn’t even aware that it existed. It has a thousand features I didn’t even know cars could have. This car, with its dark leather and sleek electronic displays, probably cost him more than four years of my college tuition.

It takes me two minutes to figure out how to adjust the seat and mirrors from their previous position—chosen to accommodate Blake’s long legs. There are no levers, nothing manual. Everything slides whisper-smooth into place at the touch of a button.

That leads me to the second problem: I don’t know how to turn the car on, and I’m not about to go back and ask him. There’s no key, no ignition—it’s an electric car; what would there be to ignite? There’s not even a big button labeled “power.”

I finally get out my phone in desperation and send a text.

Blake, how do you turn your car on?

The answer takes a few moments. Are you sitting in the car? Do you have the electronic fob?

Yes. And yes.

Then it’s on. So long as the display behind the steering wheel is on, the car is on. It’s just that the engine doesn’t make any noise.

Maria casts me an inquisitive look as I start down the street. That’s the way everything is for him. It happens automatically, without his even having to press a button. Hell, I’m feeling too much for him already, and all the encouragement he’s ever given me is to…offer me paperwork.

“Everything okay?”

My hands are still shaking. “Fine,” I say. “Awesome. Better than okay. Couldn’t be any better.”

“That bad, huh?”

“He knows I like him,” I say, gripping the wheel as hard as I can.

“Oh,” Maria says. For a moment, neither of us says anything. I pull onto the main road, but the traffic just heightens my unease.

I can’t get over this car. It’s everything I would have expected Blake to have. It’s so silent that the only noise I hear is tires against asphalt. I scarcely have to press the—it can’t be called the gas, can it, if the car is electric?—accelerator and it responds, as silent and as forceful as a ninja. The speedometer jumps.

Forty-five thousand dollars seemed like an impossible amount two weeks ago. Now, I’m realizing that it’s nothing. One side-swipe from a passing car could do that much in damage.

Suddenly this whole thing freaks me out. I’m afraid to look up the value of his house, but I suspect the number is firmly in the millions. This car. The electronics he handed me. A prototype, which, if stolen, could cost his dad’s company millions in falling stock prices. Billions even.

Adam Reynolds was right. Fernanda was my ticket on to the merry-go-round. I’m in a position where I can do real damage.

I feel like I’ve been outfitted with boxing gloves and ordered to juggle three Fabergé eggs across the Golden Gate Bridge. I’m going to break something. Everything.

A passing car honks.

“Tina,” Maria says. “You’re going fifteen in a thirty-five zone.”

“I know,” I choke out. “But—if I crash…”

She looks over at me. “A car like this is not made to go fifteen. Are you sure you’re okay? Did he do something to you? Because I don’t care who he is or what he’s paying you, if—”

“No, it’s nothing like that.” I pull into a parking lot and stop. “It’s just…”

My heart is beating hard. I don’t know what to say.

“This isn’t safe,” I finally manage. “Not him. Not this car. Not the prototypes or the NDA or anything along those lines. It’s not safe, and I’m afraid I’m going to f*ck it all up.”

She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she reaches over and takes my hand. My fingers feel cold in hers. But she holds on anyway, sending me warmth.

“Honey,” Maria says finally, “there’s only one thing to do when you find yourself behind the wheel of a car like this.”

“What?”

I know we’re not just talking about the car. My voice shakes, but Maria doesn’t say anything about that. She just squeezes my hand.