Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge) (57 page)

“He clearly has no idea how to properly
debur
a crankcase.”

“I can’t believe we’re watching this.”

“It’s like live porn.” He pulled back from the window to look at me with an accusing smirk. “Is this what you do all day? You naughty girl you,”

“No, this is the first time I’ve watched this.”

“Yeah,” he shook his head. “
sure
it is.”

When the girl arched her back into him, I thought maybe this was too much. “We shouldn’t be watching this.”

“We can’t stop now. That’s like not finishing a race, it’s not an option.”

When they finally finished, Jameson fell back against the floor and slowly turned his head to me and winked.

“Did that turn you on pervert?” I giggled at his flushed appearance. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t turned on. It
was
like watching live porn.

To my utter surprise, he laughed.

“I’ll admit, I was, but here’s the thing, Sway,” He motioned with two fingers for me to lean in closer, so I did. Then he whispered in my ear, low and seductively. “I would pay money to watch you come apart like that.”

I think I let out a noise that was near a squeak but closer to a snort, either way, it sounded like something a baby pig would make and not at all sexy.

Was I trying to be sexy?

Jameson chuckled and fell back against the floor again, his rusty hair standing out against the black rug.

Looking down at him propped up on one of his elbows, my breath caught in my throat, thankfully, I didn’t choke this time. The desire and want was obvious in both our eyes as he looked up at me.

Without thinking, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

Jameson’s response was hesitant but he moved his lips against mine alluring, soft and patient.

I pulled back immediately thinking I’d made a mistake but he surprised me when he crashed his lips back to mine with a sudden urgency and need. The kiss was explosive but remained soft. I moved my hands up his chest to the back of his neck pulling him closer. He pushed his body closer in return, a muffled groan escaped him and he rolled us both over so he was on top of me.

I moaned as his hips moved against mine and for a moment, we were lost until he froze.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” His voice marred by his heavy breathing as his eyes fell closed and he sighed. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay.” I was panting just as hard. “We always seem to end up this way at some point.”

“Does it bother you?” He whispered moving to sit up on the floor, his back rested against the foot of my bed. I watched as he not so discretely adjusted himself.

“No, it doesn’t bother me at all.”

He nodded before he stood reaching for my hand.

“Let’s go watch a movie before I do something stupid.” His eyes raked over my body before he sighed shaking his head. “You are too beautiful for your own good.”

I felt my cheeks flush as I let out a nervous giggle-snort. I was becoming good at these embarrassing noises.

“Why do you say things like
that
to me?”

“Because it’s true,” He told me without hesitation. “You are very beautiful and incredibly sexy. You should know that.”

Leaning forward, I kissed him again. Falling to the floor again, any willpower I had was non-existent tonight when he said things like that. No one had ever told me I was sexy before, aside from him. Once again, he ended up between my legs. This time I pulled away when I thought of why he was here.

“Sorry, that was my fault.”

Still lying on the floor, his head fell back when he groaned.

“You’re killing me, Sway.” He muttered with a light chuckle.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I only said that because every time I’m around you—I think about you naked.” He winked with a cocky nod.

Was he flirting with me?

Conscious of my tension, he laughed. “Let’s get up.”

So we moved to the bed, he attacked me once more and when his hands made their way to the funbags, he pulled away again only this time he set pillows in between us.

“Apparently we need barriers tonight.” Trying to catch my breath, he kissed me again, his lips exultant. He moved his mouth to whisper in my ear—his breathing just as ragged as mine. “Stay on your side, honey.”

I giggled despite my embarrassment that we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves.

Continuing to watch Sports Center, I blurted out. “What made you fly across the country for a night?”

His head turned on the pillow, his thick eyelashes fluttered closed a few times before he gave me a soft smile. “I just missed you,
that’s
all.” He turned back toward the television. “Sometimes I just need to remember home.”

“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

“It’s not important.”

Not important? How could it not be important?

“I’m home?” I pointed at myself awkwardly. I’m not so sure it was presented as a question, or even a statement.

“Yes,” he smiled.

His eyes focused on the picture on my nightstand of us when we were around fourteen in Mexico on the beach.

How was I home?
Oh jeez, I was so confused.

Why did he say things like this? Why was he so cryptic in everything he did or said to me? Could it be that he was just as confused about where our relationship had gone as I was?

Jameson has always reminded me of a sprint car set-up. They can be some of the most temper-sensitive cars out there when it comes to weight distribution, just like Jameson.

Take the suspension for example. You can either have a coil spring/shock combination, torsion bars, or a combination of both.

A coil spring system is used to store energy and subsequently release the energy to absorb the shock or maintain a force between contracting surfaces. When you think about it, Jameson and I used each other as coil springs to absorb anything that happened in our lives. For that, I held him to different standards. Anything else in my life, I was precipitately impulsive. When it came to Jameson and telling him how I felt for him, I couldn’t form the words. 

When he fell asleep on my bed, I watched him like the stalker I was. I couldn’t stop staring at him, entranced by his beauty. My stupid girly brain imagined that he was here because he wanted me in all the ways I wanted him. Could it be that he got the same energized rush when he saw me as I did with him? Could it be that when we kissed, he felt the same crushing zeal?

I wasn’t really a stalker, was I?

I mean he is my best friend, that’s not a stalker, right? I didn’t know what the difference would be. It all felt the same and now that the term was defined, I figured I should look into therapy.

And then I wondered how I would present this to a therapist?

“Hello, I’m stalking my best friend. Do you think you can help me? I’m afraid that if he doesn’t love me back; I might resort to further stalking and with my arrest record, I’d be going to prison for the three strikes and you’re out deal.”

Yeah
, that doesn’t sound dumb at all.

Tear-offs – Jameson

My phone buzzing woke me up that morning. I noticed the way we were lying and smiled. We ended up cuddling sometime throughout the night. Thankfully, we were still fully clothed.

The sun had risen, but the rain had yet to slow. The metal roofs of the cars outside pinged as the rain drops fell. I remembered the sound well, having lived in Washington where the cloud cover and rain were unrelenting.

I watched her sleep through the mirror over her dresser, the morning light providing the right amount of luminosity. Her features softened from sleep were almost seraphic. I wanted to stop time right then and never move from this place with her securely in my arms, away from any harm the world would cause her. Since hearing from Charlie, I alternated between confusion, anger, fear and sadness.

Please just let her be okay with this.

The problem was
,
she wouldn’t be okay. He was dying. The only biological family she had left was dying. I couldn’t think through this. I couldn’t find a way for it to be okay, she wouldn’t be okay. I could only hope I would be there for her when she needed me.

Watching her that morning it was easy to see the change in me. For the longest time, it was so hard to see what was right in front of me,
her
. But now, it was so simple, so unmistakably obvious.

Just like tear offs on a visor, you don’t realize how obscured your vision is at the time, until you tear away that cellophane, and suddenly you can see and you’re wondering how the hell you made it through the last few laps like that. It was as though hearing Charlie tell me he was dying, cleared away any doubt I had that I was meant to be with Sway. In some way I was and I saw it so clearly now.

Sway, who’d been sound asleep until now, stirred in front of me. She was snuggled with her back against my chest, my arm draped over her waist resting against her stomach.

I should move.
  I thought to myself.
I really should move. This was intimate, right?

And then she sighed.

“Jameson?” she spoke sleepy, “Are we
sporking
?”

Laughing, I had to spit some of her hair out of my mouth to reply. “It’s called spooning, Sway.”

“Spooning is a dumb word. So we’re forking?” she turned her head around to glance back at me.

I groaned. The woman was killing me.

“Nope—I’d have noticed if we were forking, for sure.”

A ray of sunshine broke through, shinning on her face.
God, she was so beautiful
.

“I wish you were still traveling with us.” I told her kissing her forehead. “I miss you.”

She smiled. “I do too.”

I hated that I couldn’t tell her, I wanted to. She deserved to know how drastically her life would change. I also knew I couldn’t offer anything. I would do nothing but complicate the situation if she were with me all the time. Nothing would change by telling her.

My phone buzzing again ended anything I wanted to say to her in that moment. Wes called to remind me to be at the airport in a few hours so I decided to shower.

After I took a shower, I walked out into her living room to see Sway curled up on the couch, next to Tommy, who was eating cereal from a bowl in his lap. He was pointing to the television screen, thumb on the remote’s pause button, wearing a look of deep concentration. He looked much like a scholar extemporizing upon his area of passionate interest. Sway was watching the screen, equally fascinated.

“You see, you need lots of assembly lube. Eventually you can—”

“What are you watching?” I was praying they weren’t watching porn after watching her neighbors last night.

Tommy shrugged, eyes glued to the screen. “A video prepping the camshaft for insertion,” he said. “I’m giving her a rudimentary education.”

He can’t be serious.

Sway’s eyes focused on mine, squinting.

Running my hand through my damp hair, I motioned for the door with a tilt of my head. “I need to get going.” There was no way I could watch
that
, with Sway here.

She jumped to her feet dumping Tommy’s bowl on him.

“I’ll drive you.” She turned to Tommy. “Clean that up fire crotch!”

As we walked to her truck, I saw a guy walking toward us who, by his grin, appeared to know her.

I said the first thing that came to mind.

“So
...
Blake, how is he?”

I don’t know why I asked that. I wasn’t sure if this dude was him and what would I have done if she said,
“Oh yeah, we’re getting married. Let me introduce you.”

Not that she would have but I clearly was not thinking.

Did I want to hear this?

No.

Did I want to meet the guy?

Without a doubt.

She looked wary, and slightly embarrassed, her eyes glancing between me and him. “You suck.”

“I think he’s waiting for you.” I motioned with my head as he leaned against her truck.

“You stay here. I’ll be right back.” I did as she said. I didn’t need to beat the living shit out of some college kid just because I wasn’t man enough to tell her how I felt.

When he hugged her, relief washed over me. She looked uncomfortable by his advance.

The guy, Blake I knew for sure now, left as Sway motioned for me to come over. “That was nothing.”