I Kissed The Boy Next Door (13 page)

“Oh please,” I rolled my eyes, “You’re male.”

He burst out laughing.

Fortunately, this was the diversion I needed, so retrieving my purse from its spot in the
floor, I wielded my phone before him as evidence of my success, more than a little relieved. The bell rang then, and we snatched our books and rushed out into the hall. But he pulled me to a stop before I could escape, and I swear my arm burned right where his fingers were.

“You never said when.”

When. When would we spend time together trading life stories? When would I have the pleasure of looking into his blue eyes for a few hours of my time?

“Well, when then?” I asked.

He hooked his thumbs in his pockets, his book tucked beneath his arm. “You wanna go out?”

Out?
On a date?
I blinked back my surprise and swallowed heavily. “Whatever’s good for you.”

“How about Wednesday?
I can pick you up for church. Then after, we can get a burger.” He waited, his blue eyes growing even bluer the longer I stared at them.

“Wednesday’s good,” I said.

“Text me your address.”

I nodded and made to turn, but his last words pulled me short.

“Maybe don’t wear that shirt.”

***

“Tim!”

Tim glanced over the heads milling in the hallway to see his best friend, Eric, pushing his way forward and so missed the girl, Taylor, slipping away. He spent a few moments watching her bottom sway before meeting his friend’s gaze.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Eric jerked his head in the direction of Timothy’s former attention. “What are you talking to her for?” he asked.

“Project.”

“Class or personal?”

Tim smiled out of one side of his mouth. That was up for serious debate. “Class.”
For now.

“
MmmMmm,” Eric grunted as the last vision of her turned the corner. “I’m betting five bucks you make it personal.”

Tim laughed and headed for the exit. Eric never had five cents, much less five bucks.

“Hey, man, can you give me a ride home? My mom took my keys … again.” Eric spun in a circle to avoid colliding with the water fountain.

Tim raised his eyebrows. “What for this time?” Eric was forever getting in trouble, and his mom always took his keys, though this didn’t seem to stop him from messing up the next time.

“Grades. I failed my Science test.”

Science.
Figures. Eric hated science.

“I
should
make you walk,” Tim said. The clatter of the front doors preceded the rush of afternoon heat in his face. He pulled his t-shirt from his already moist skin.

“You should, but you won’t.”

Tim dug his keys from his pocket and unlocked his car. No, he wouldn’t. Not that Eric ever paid for gas. Not that he lived on the way home.

The purr of the engine brought serious satisfaction to a deep place in Tim’s soul. Running his hands around the steering wheel, he inhaled the scent of warm leather and automobile protectant. This car was special.
A 1970 Chevy Chevelle SS big block. As if that didn’t make it unique enough, his father gave him this car before shipping out for Afghanistan on his second tour, and that made it more than the classic it already was. It was a part of his dad, who he rarely got to see.

The
thunk of the passenger-side door brought him awake.

“So tell me what’s this project that has you all tied up with Southern?” Eric laid an arm on the ledge of the open window.

“Southern?” Tim frowned as an elderly lady in a battered Corolla cut in front of him. Her head barely cleared the dashboard.

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve always called her. She’s got that sexy accent which pulls you in.”

Tim braked as the elderly lady made a sharp right-hand turn.
Senior drivers.

“And she’s all round and curvy,” Eric continued, “about like this car.”

Tim glanced at him. “You’re comparing her to my car?”

“Yep.
One’s sweet the other is sweeter. But you haven’t answered my question.”

The light changed from yellow to red, and Tim brought the car to a stop. “We’re supposed to write a paper on each other. Something about what we would change about the other person and what we wouldn’t.”

“I’d change her into something skimpy.” The smirk on Eric’s face stretched from ear to ear.

Tim laughed. “If you felt like that, then why haven’t
you
asked her out?”

Eric’s smile faded. “Are you kidding? She won’t give me the time of day. Now, you on the other hand …”

No sooner had the words left Eric’s mouth, than Tim spotted her. Only something was wrong. She was limping. “Check it out,” he said, nodding her direction. He pulled his car over to the curb and leaned across Eric’s bulky form toward the opposite window.

“Taylor? You okay?” he called.

And she turned around. Her face was white as a sheet, and her shirt was ripped down the left-hand side.