The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories (166 page)

“You’ve gotta chill out Jumper. We just won for Christ’s sake—take a minute to soak it in.”

“No! No way, if I feel this great after one race, this alive, imagine what I’d feel like after two! Or three!” I scanned around me for another driver who might have me at their side. Granted, none of them knew me, but neither exactly did William, and he was still willing to take me. So it was still possible I could get someone else to take me, right? Still, they probably wouldn’t be nearly the do-gooder William was, and would want something in return for the privilege of riding with them. I shuddered and tried to make the thought go away. Once I did, however, a new whirlwind of insane thoughts starting going through me. How fast could I get my Subaru to go? How much would it cost to put a new engine in it? New tires? Or a nitrous gage?

Prior to me working any of it out in my mind, William shook his head, just as determined as I was. “Even if I wasn’t responsible for you, I’d still say no Jumper. This ain’t something for a newbie to be overdosing on.”

“Fine” I shoved his hands away from me as if they would stop the electric pulse running through me, stop the adrenaline dead in its tracks. “If you won’t take me, I’ll find someone else who will.”

Chapter 9

My thoughts were frantic, ranging from self-destructive to creative as I broke away from him and wandered away for myself. It was as though by acknowledging it I had jinxed myself, and The Rush was already starting to fade, pulse away just as rapidly as it had hit me. Would I really have to wait another week to feel it? What would I do with myself until then? How was I supposed to pretend I was living for anything else?

I took my headband off and shook my hair loose, trying to ignore William calling out after me, or the smell of smoke and booze that came with the breeze. I ignored them all but the smoke smell, the stink from the barrel fire inspiring a new idea in me that was just as stupid as it was desperate.

Without saying excuse me, I pushed my way through the small crowd, stopping only when I was standing close enough to the fire barrel to feel the heat radiating from the flames. And while my skin crawled, heart pounded with the impending pain, The Rush was too irresistible to ignore.

When I stuck my hand into the fire my front teeth slammed down on my tongue to keep me from screaming, making me taste of gush of blood while my hand roared with pain. Biting on my tongue couldn’t keep me quiet forever though, and just when I was opened my mouth to scream, William was pulling me away, making no attempt to be gentle when he dragged my arm—and the rest of me—away from the barrel fire. This, of course, incited more looks from the people around us than my actual attempt at self-destructiveness did.

“What in the hell are you doing?” He yelled. “Are you out of your skull?”

“Obviously,” I seethed. “You knew that when you met me.”

I laughed lightly through the pain, the hurt of it so powerful that I couldn’t even enjoy William taking my hand in his.

“You need to get this looked at” Glancing at it only briefly, he took my other wrist and half dragged me. The direction told me we were heading back for the car, but I didn’t at all like where the conversation was heading. “I’m taking you to the ER.”

“No” I literally dug my heels into the ground. If I was going to be an immature kid, I may as well have gone all in with it. I pulled hard enough until he let me go. “I can’t. I won’t!”

“Just look at your hand, Jumper!” “You easily got a second degree there! You gotta get that checked out by a doctor.”

“Not a chance. If I go to the hospital, the insurance might notify my mom and dad. I don’t even know if I have the card on me—”

William shook his head, flabbergasted. “A free-clinic then!”

“No. I’ll have to wait for three hours for basic first-aid. I can save myself the wait and take care of it at home.”

“You live over an hour away” he tapped the steering wheel impatiently, almost I thought angrily. “I have some first-aid stuff at my place...”

Being alone with William? In his place, where he lived and slept, where he probably had dreams about cars, and naked girls? Why wasn’t that as appealing as it should have been? I poked at my rapidly blistering hand, trying to picture how it would look later on, if it would scar or if I would lose feeling there entirely.

So maybe riding in another race tonight wasn’t very realistic, but if hanging out with William was the only alternative available to me I was glad to have it.

“Yeah” I nodded. “That could work.”

“Okay.” He stopped his nervous tapping and leaned over me for the glove box, finalizing the surprises for the night by pulling out a lighter held to pack of cigarettes with a rubber band. “I don’t live too from here, so at least you’re hand won’t fall off—”

“It isn’t that bad.” I poked at the red flesh again, feeling the pain as my nerves protested against the assault. Judging by the lack of pain in the center of my hand I thought maybe there was a third degree burn—the nerves partially destroyed by the fire. I clenched my hand until it formed a fist. Without explanation, the pain was not as invigorating as I expected, even close to being thrilling.

His offer to help me however, was.

The place where William lived, could truly only be described as a “place”. Poorly lit and with clothes scattered on various parts of the concrete floor, it reminded me of the back of an album cover—something grungy, with that 80’s metal twinge.

Technically, I realized, it wasn’t even certifiable dwelling at all—just the basement of the Chinese restaurant from the corner.

“The owner barely charges me at all.” William said reading my mind. “Ah—watch your step there.”

As instructed, I ducked to get inside the low entrance, instantly squinting at both the darkness and the smell.

“In return I do some basic maintenance on the van they use for deliveries and the wife’s car. All my clothes end up smelling like kung pao...” While he scratched the back of his head and hurried to straighten the place up, I forgot about the pain in my hand, immensely enjoying his almost nervous smile. Still, I didn’t understand why anyone like William Do-gooder would feel self-conscious, especially in regard for someone like me. In a weird way though, I appreciated it and looked away, if only to be anymore rude or intrusive than I already was.

“You don’t smell like kung pao.” I murmured. Not looking at him I tried to take in the names of as many car magazines as I could and felt a slightly fascination to see a well crafted beer bottle tree in the corner.

“You, um—don’t have to clean or anything. Especially for me” I was quick to add. “I’ve seen much worse.”

Laughing, he used his forearm to swipe garbage into its container. “Kinda doubt that one, Jumper.”

I smiled at a semi-fond memory. “Seriously. You should see the bakery Thanksgiving eve. I don’t think even FEMA could help that disaster area. Besides, this is your place. Who care what I think if you’re comfortable.”

William choked on a combination of air freshener and laughter. “I didn’t think of it that way. It’s just that I haven’t had a girl here in a long time. I always end up going to them—”

Blushing furiously, I looked away and pretended to stare at a massive box of hot wheels and matchbox cars. “Well it isn’t like we’re here for that.”

“Right” Swearing and I think tossing the can of air freshener somewhere, the sound of William’s feet against the floor sounded panicked to me as he moved quickly. Mumbling apologies, he began digging through a closet attached to the small kitchen space, undoing all his good work that the brief cleaning session had done. Though my back was still turned to him, I saw envelopes being thrown like Frisbees, nosemakers, half-melted candles tossed aside, oil stained rags, and more than one tennis ball that bounced my way.

When I turned, I saw William trying to lug an enormous backpack over his shoulder. Naturally, he did it in a single try, but the pretend look of strain on his face was almost enough to make me smile. Moreover, I appreciated his effort to try and cheer me up.

“What is that?”

He started walking and I followed, kicking tennis balls out of my way as necessary and trying to decipher the sound of yelling from the kitchen above.

“In here Jumper is everything you could possibly ever need to survive a nasty night and then some. Now come on, let’s have a look at the damage.”

William led me into a bathroom that was only about half as disgusting as I imagined, though just as small. Not wanting to seem snobbish, I sat on the end of the tub as instructed where I was slightly surprised when he came to sit close next to me.

“Okay” he sighed. “Lets see it.”

With a certain amount of reluctance, I gave over my hand. But for all his brass talk of sex and cars, his rough friends and blue collared profession, William was completely gentle; holding the back of my hand like it was a something precious. I watched his face while he examined my palm, how the expression between his eyes changed when he turned my inner hand toward the bathroom light. Then, when his rough thumb ran just slightly over my wrist, I watched the twitch of his lip. Maybe, if I had been better with men I would have been able to read exactly what was going on behind those late summer eyes of his, but as it was, I couldn’t, and the frustration of it sent fresh throbs of pain to my hand.

I cleared my throat obnoxiously. The sound of my voice startled him and he dropped my hand as gently as he had taken it. “What’s the verdict?”

William looked up at me wryly. “We’re going to have to amputate.”

“Hardy har har” I reached for the faucet and turned on the cold. “I’m in
stitches
over here.”

“Ah ha,” William sat up and dragged the backpack over. “I see what you did there.”

The water felt incredibly good on my injured hand. Not rush worthy, but if I was honest with myself, I should have run cold water 15 minutes earlier. And as it was, the sharp pain was starting to slowly subside.

“Here,” William handed me two small pink pills. “These will help too.”

I swallowed them dry, not willing to take my hand from the cold water for even a second.

Sighing, William shook the hair from his eyes as he sat on the toilet seat lid. “Now how do you know I haven’t just roofied you or something?”

I shrugged and leaned my head on the light switch behind me. From this angle I could see his messy blond hair better, stare openly at the muscles of his arms through his shirt while he riffled through the first-aid backpack. “I don’t know—have you?”

“No—but—” The sound of something slamming in the backpack startled me. My hand flinched in the water. The second I realized it I put it back in. “Damn it Jumper! Are you trying to give me gray hair?”

“Why would I do that?” I laughed “I like your hair just the way it is.”

“Then use your head.” He sighed. “You’re too smart to be doing dumb shit.”

I floated on the compliment for a good three minutes while he sorted through the mess of a backpack, throwing away empty boxes of band-aids and what I guessed were expired medicines. Finally, when I grew bored with my own thoughts and the sound of pots and pans from above, I spoke up, curiosity and pain killers starting to get the best of me.

“I—how’d you know this was a second degree.” I didn’t have to gesture to my hand for both of us to know what I was talking about. “I mean, I knew it was a second degree—but how did you? Have you had medical training or something?”

“Nah.” He looked back up at me and smiled. Still, I told myself that weakness in my knees had to have been from the pain in my hand. “I did a couple semesters at a junior college, but that wasn’t for me. I only know some of this stuff because I’ve been in so many accidents myself.”

Accidents? The word alone made me feel jittery, but somehow I got the feeling that it didn’t mean the same thing to me that it did to William. While I would call a fender-bender an accident, he would probably consider that a regular part of his weekend routine.

“You don’t look like you’ve been in any accidents.”

Nodding, he put down a wrap of gauze and pulled up the side of his shirt. A lump formed in my throat at the sight of the definition I saw there, the clear-cut muscle splashed with thin white lines.

“See these?”

I nodded. “Un-huh.”

“Crashed my first car into a post-office when I was 17—chunks of the windshield got me pretty good.”

I counted to five before making myself look away. After all, how much longer could I stare before it would be considered outright gawking? “Wow. What else you got?”

Smiling still, he rolled up his gray shirt sleeve and pointed out a long red scar—almost impossible to see next to the tattoo of blue stars, black aces, red hot hearts and Route 66 sign. As he rotated his wrist, I could see a large and well drawn eight ball there as well. Though maybe I should have expected it, I wasn’t ashamed to admit that the sleeve of tattoo surprised me a little—though why exactly, I could not say.

“A sore loser” William said pointing out the scar to me “After one of my first races.”

I titled my head to the side, studying a gear shift on his inner arm. “I didn’t know knife fights and tattoos could be accidents” I teased.

“You don’t like them?” The painkillers must have had me by then, because for a second I could have sworn he sounded disappointed. William shook his head at me, but still smiled. “What else am I supposed to do with all the scars I get?”

I shrugged. What could I say? While his tattoos definitely made him more attractive—an issue I was going to have to explore with myself later—I wasn’t going to beg him to see more. But I did ask myself how I could have gone a week without seeing his arms, not to mention how he could afford such extensive tattoo work on a mechanic’s salary.

“Hey you,” he nudged me. “Get that hand out of the water so it can dry.”

Chapter 10

With the cold water and pain killers my hand was pleasantly numb, tingling just a little at the fingertips. I used my right hand to shut off the faucet, feeling the slightest twinge of guilt for possibly running up William’s water bill. Grimacing, I shook out both of my hands and looked away. Glad now that I had bought the car shaped cookie-cutters. After all this, I would definitely owe William a little something.