The Road Trip

• Five •

The next morning, I came down to the car to see that Luke had taken the soft top off while I'd been doing my makeup.

"I just straightened my hair," I complained.

He took my luggage from me and put it in the back. "Do you have a hat or a headband or something?"

"No," I replied.

He dug around in his bag and pulled out a Seattle Seahawks hat. "Here." He came around to the side and slapped it on my head. He shook his head as it tilted down over my eyes. "Too big," he said, taking it back. He adjusted the strap and put it back on my head before he remarked, "Cute. Unless you're a Patriots fan."

I crossed my arms. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"I don't know," I said defiantly. "Whatever it is that you do that makes everyone like you."

"Were you starting to like me?" Luke smiled and raised his eyebrows so high they were almost touching his hairline.

"No. Just don't try, okay."

"You were starting to like me a little, weren't you?" Luke teased me.

"No, I still hate you," I told him. "But you always turn on your little charms, like putting hats on people and calling them cute."

"Putting hats on people?"

I nodded.

Luke had that gift. I'd seen it a thousand times. Girls' heads turning to follow him. One little smile and he got what he wanted. I'd be damned if I gave into it.

"You think that's how I charm people? I go around putting hats on their heads?"

"Girls probably love it—wearing your hat. How many girls have worn this one?"

"There's no possibility I was just being sincere?"

I rolled my eyes at him.

I could see the cogs of his brain turning, and his face was changing like the gears were working it into something that wasn't very pleasant. "That's not how I charm girls, Reese."

My body flushed. He was doing something, but I wasn't sure what. I backed up into the side of the car. I didn't have anywhere else to go.

At first I thought he was going to wrap his arm around my shoulder. He was standing so close, I could smell his soap. His face hovered above mine, and it looked like he was studying the cadence of my breathing.

"I think I've softened your steel a little bit, and you're mad about it," he said, placing his left hand on top of the side of the open car. My brain was screaming as he bent down at the shoulders toward my face. For a split second, I actually thought he was going to try to kiss me. "Or maybe you're having some hate-sex fantasy after you couldn't stop staring at my abs, and it makes you uncomfortable that you're into it." He reached out with his right hand and wrapped it around the door handle, enclosing me inside his arms. Here was that hidden asshole coming to the surface. "Why are you breathing so fast? I can practically see your pulse racing." He chuckled and locked eyes with mine. "Is it both?"

He opened the passenger door for me and tilted his head, telling me to get in. His face was serious, a small frown pulling down the corners of his lips. I was lightheaded from his proximity and furious because both of those things were slightly factual. But now they suddenly weren't anymore.

I slid out from underneath him and climbed up into the car, trying to even my breathing.
He slammed my door with a smug smirk. I looked like a panting girl desperate for him to touch me and wishing I could punch him at the same time.