Drew looks at me sidelong. He’s fighting a grin, but he manages to look pseudo threatening. “Hand over the food and no one gets hurt.”
I pull out an eight-inch long section of the party sub I’d taken from the catering kitchen, and he makes an exaggerated groan. “Oh, baby, it’s so big.”
“That’s my line.”
“Yes, it is.”
Snorting, I help myself to a small section of sandwich then hand him the rest.
His groan is real and appreciative as he starts to devour the sub, one hand on the wheel the other lovingly holding his food. “Italian,” he says between bites. “Bless you.”
“You must be really hungry because this sub is mediocre at best.” The sandwich is soggy on the bottom and overly salty.
“I’m starved. I haven’t eaten since before the game.” Drew gives me a quick, guilty look.
It’s harder to swallow my bite. “Thanks for taking me for a ride.” My words are soft in the dark car, and when silence falls, it’s less easy now.
But Drew just shrugs and finishes off his last bite. “Wasn’t anywhere else I wanted to be.”
Which makes the ache inside of me stronger.
He peers down at my bag. “I don’t suppose you have any—”
I have my water bottle out and to him before he can finish, and I am rewarded with another one of his grins.
“You’re a goddess, Anna Jones.”
I affect a casual tone, as if my heart isn’t bruised and bewildered. “Well, since you’re feeling nice and indebted. Can I drive Little Red?” I need something to do, something to calm me before I fling myself at him and offer my undying adoration.
And I have to admire the way he struggles not to react with the horror that’s so clearly stealing over him. I figure no one but Drew drives this car. It has to be the case, because he’s almost squirming in his seat. I’m about to let him off the hook, tell him it’s okay, I get it, I understand it’s a guy thing, when he suddenly pulls over to the side of the road.
“If you make some lame crack about my ability to handle a stick, I will end you,” I quip, just to break his tension.
“I want to live,” he teases. Then looks at me hard, but there’s a gleam in his eyes beneath the scowl. “Seriously, I want to live so…”
“Ass.” I give his peck a light punch before I wrench open the heavy car door and get out. We meet in the middle, the car’s headlights illuminating us. Or rather, I run by him and jump into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind me. “It’s freaking freezing out there now,” I tell him as he gets into the passenger seat.
My legs hover somewhere in no-man’s land. He’s so tall; the pedals are at least a foot away from me. Muttering about giants, I roll the seat forward, and he snorts. “More like redheaded pixies who need to pull the seat up to the steering wheel.”
“I do not, in any way, resemble a pixie.” The very idea is laughable.
His fleeting gaze travels over my br**sts and hips, and it’s hot. “You might be right.”
I’m only a little flustered when I start the car.
I don’t punch it. I drive fast and smooth, learning the feel of the car and its ticks.
Drew studies me, his body angled in the seat a little. “I thought you’d floor it.”
I shrug as we glide around a soft curve. “I’m getting to know her first.”
The way he looks at me, as if I’ve said something special. I don’t understand that look, it makes me twitchy deep in my belly, so I ignore it and drive. We’re quiet, lulled by the gentle purr of the motor. And it’s nice. The old car, with its soft leather and warm heat, is cozy.
The road is really a big loop, bringing us back into town. I can see the lights of the campus coming up upon us in the distance.
A mile later, I spot an abandoned lot, and put on my blinker. Which is ridiculous considering we’re the only ones out here, but habit is habit.
When Drew speaks, his steady voice is so deep it’s soothing. “You can drive us back,” he says. “It’s up to you.”
I don’t think I can take the feel of his gaze on me any longer. It’s doing strange things to my heart, speeding it up, slowing it down. He drives me crazy, and I’m beginning to think he knows exactly how much.
“It’s okay,” I say as I pull in. The tires crunch over gravel and the car rocks over a small bump. I ease it to a stop, turn the engine off, and promptly realize the error of my plan. We’re alone in the dark, warm cocoon of the car. And while I’ve never shirked from the chance to jump on Drew, everything feels different now. Somehow, without my permission, we’ve grown closer, and I know a decision must be made.
Drew seems twitchy as well, his biceps bunching beneath his shirt as he taps on his knee.
“Let’s change seats then,” I say, not quite looking him in the eye.
It’s clear that neither of us want to go outside, which means only one option. We’ve got to climb over each other. Or maybe it’s the excuse we both need to touch. That we even need one makes my stomach clench.
As soon as we spring into action, the reality of it isn’t the sexy situation I’d envisioned. Not when our knees bash into each other at the same time as my chin collides with Drew’s massive shoulder.
I rear back, hitting my heat on the roof as Drew awkwardly falls to the side, his ass connecting with the steering wheel. The Camaro’s horn is a bellow in the dark night. Muttering a curse, Drew tries to get his leg over the console the same time as I do, and we tangle again.