Stolen (9 page)

At around eleven, I’ve had enough. My hand is throbbing, I’m annoyed with the exaggerated fight stories, and Emily seems like she’s a little fuzzy from the two drinks she’s had. I’ve made sure to keep my distance up ‘til now, but I want to leave, and I have to drive her back.

“Hey, we should probably get you home,” I tell her as she and Davis huddle next to the newly made fire pit.

“What?” Davis says, standing up and holding his drink into the air. “We’re only just getting warmed up. We got the fire pit going!”

“Yeah, but it’s her first night and her folks aren’t going to like it if we keep her out all night,” I say.

“Davis can drive me home,” Emily says. She glares at me. It’s a ridiculous statement, since she knows Davis is drunk. She’s just saying it to piss me off.

“Davis has been drinking all day,” I say, “Not only can’t he drive, but he’s probably going to need a liver transplant.”

“It’s true,” Davis agrees happily, chugging the rest of his Budweiser. “I don’t think I can drive.”

Emily glares some more. “Then I’ll stay over.”

“No you won’t,” I tell her, even though we both know she’s still just trying to make this difficult. “Your parents will kill me if I just leave you here.”

“Don’t you mean your parents will kill you?” she says, and I realize she’s not as tipsy as I thought she was. She’s still sharp enough to see through my bullshit.

“Whatever. It’s time to hit the road.”

“Fine.” She stands up, still looking pissed.

We say our goodbyes and head out to my truck, Emily trailing behind me by a good three or four feet. I decide I just need get her home safely, and then do my best to avoid her for the rest of her time here.

Sure, she’s cute and all, and her personality isn’t bad either. But I’ve totally blown whatever chance I had to make any kind of decent impression on her by acting like a jackass. Time to cut my losses.

Chapter Five

Emily

“You want to stop for coffee or something on the way home?” Lucas asks once we’re in his car.

I look at him incredulously. “You know, as much as I would love to prolong the wonderfulness that was this evening, I really think I should be getting home.” I check the clock on his dashboard. It’s only a little after eleven. “It’s very late.”

“I just meant that maybe you’d want to get some coffee before you got home and had to talk to your parents.” He looks at me pointedly.

“I’m not drunk,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I had, like, half a drink.”

“Doesn’t take much if you can’t hold your liquor.”

“What are you, the sober police?”

“Yeah, just like you’re the confidence police.”

“What?”

“Remember earlier? I asked you if you were the confidence police. You were using my sarcastic comeback and trying to pass it off as your own.”

“Whatever.” I lean back in my seat and put my feet up on the dashboard. Lucas pulls the car onto the street, and we start making our way back toward my house. There’s actually a fair amount of traffic on the road, which I guess makes sense. Since it’s the Cape, and since it’s summer, I guess everyone’s been out at parties or barbeques. I hope they had a better time than I did.

I pull my phone out of my bag and check to see if I have any new texts from Gabe.

“Who have you been texting with all night?” Lucas asks.

“No one.”

“Doesn’t seem like no one,” he says, “Boyfriend back home?”

“None of your business,” I say.

“Wow, sorry for trying to make conversation,” he says. “And sorry I asked you about your boyfriend.” The tone in his voice makes it sound like he thinks I’m being ridiculous and childish, not wanting to talk about my boyfriend. “You know, I told myself when I got in the car that I was going to stop trying to be nice to you. And then for some reason – “

“Okay,” I say, pulling my feet down and turning toward him in my seat. “Tell me about Julia.”

His expression instantly changes from arrogant and irritated to serious and a little angry. “Julia’s nothing,” he says.

“Which is why you punched the guy she’s dating,” I say. “Makes sense.” I kick my flip-flops onto the floor and lean the seat back, letting my bare feet hang out the window. It’s one of those beautiful summer nights, where the air is warm and the sky is clear. I inhale the smell of the ocean. It’s so different from the nights spent in Boston, where all you can smell is exhaust and all you can hear is the honking of horns.

“I didn’t punch Bo because he’s Julia’s boyfriend,” Lucas says. “I punched Bo because he’s Bo, and Bo’s a complete tool.”

“Oh, okay,” I say.

“Oh, okay?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I shrug. “I believe you.”

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, like he wants to say something else.

He knows I don’t believe him. But if he questions me on it, he’s just going to be bringing up Julia again.

But he can’t help himself.

“I don’t still like Julia,” he says.

“Then why are we still talking about her?”

“You brought her up.”

“Well, forget I did.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

We drive for a few minutes in silence. I hope my parents are asleep when I get home, so that I don’t have to answer a bunch of questions about how the night went. I would never admit to my mom that I didn’t have a good time. I wouldn’t want to disappoint her, and besides, the last thing I want is for her to get all worried about me.

I’m so caught up thinking about this, that at first, I don’t realize that Lucas is slowing the car down.

“Why are you....Oh, HELL NO.” I pull my feet down from the window. The traffic has pretty much died down now, since we’ve moved off the main highways and away from the water. And on the deserted road, ahead of us, is the man from the pharmacy. The one Lucas got on tape. He’s walking hunched over, his hands shoved into the pockets of a yellow windbreaker. “We are not doing this again,” I say.

“Shhh,” Lucas says.

“No,” I say, “I’m not going to –“

But then I break off. Because as Lucas pulls over to the side of the road, and cuts the engine, I can see the guy from the pharmacy—the one Lucas claims is a deadbeat criminal--heading for a car that’s parked a few feet ahead of us, in a little indentation where the trees don’t quite meet the pavement. He gets in the passenger seat, and the car pulls out onto the main road. It takes off, speeding away ahead of us.

“Aren’t you going to follow him?” I ask.

Lucas just shakes his head. “Nope. Thanks to you, we already got everything we need back at the store.”

“You don’t understand,” I tell him, trying to control my voice, which is suddenly shaking. “I want you to follow that car.”

“Why?” he asks.

“Because,” I say. And then I take a deep breath. “That car he just got into? It’s my dad’s.”

Look for PLAYING WITH FIRE #2, SMOLDER, and PLAYING

WITH FIRE #3, BURN, available now!