Crashing Into You (6 page)

“What the hell are you
doing
?” Melanie shouted, but I didn’t
listen. I kept a death grip on the wheel, kept veering the car to the left. I
didn't let go until we struck the curb on the other side of the street. The
seat belt jerked me back, and my right elbow struck the door handle.

“Oww,” I said.
 

I turned my head toward the
window. The boy didn’t even notice us. He kept skateboarding down the sidewalk
and onto another street.

“Oh, thank God,” I said, and unclicked
my seat belt.

Melanie struck her fist
against the steering wheel. “Are you
crazy
?
Are you trying to kill us?”

I glanced in the back seat. “Robert,
are you okay?” He looked out of it, but uninjured.

“Sydney, do you know what you
did?” Melanie shouted, her voice grating on me more and more. “This isn't even
my car!”

I jumped out on the sidewalk,
didn't respond to her. I whipped out my phone. “I’m calling Evan.”

I dialed him. His was only
one of four numbers I had in my SAVED column.

“Pick up,” I said. “Pick up,
pick up.” After four rings, he finally did. “Hey, it’s Sydney. Can you come
pick up your girlfriend? We're near the LMU gate.”

I hung up before Melanie
could chime in. She stepped out of the car, slammed the door, stomped toward me.
She was furious.

“This is absurd!” she
shouted. “What's gotten into you?”

“I'm sorry, but you were
gonna hit that kid.”

“What kid?”

I looked down the street but
he had vanished. “He was on a skateboard. I saw him.”

“Sydney, there was
no one
on the street!” She threw her
hands up in the air, like she wanted to take a swing at me.

“Yeah, sure there wasn't.”

I pushed past her. I didn’t
want to listen to her lies. I opened the back door and helped Robert out of the
car.

“Can you walk?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I feel better
actually.”

Robert followed me up to the
sidewalk.

“Where are you going?”
Melanie asked, clearly debating whether to follow us or not.

“We’re walking back,” I said.
“Shame on you, Melanie.”

“Shame on me? For what?”

“I don't care if it was just
a few miles. You don't get behind the wheel when you're drunk.”

She shook her head. “For the
last time, I'm not drunk! All right? I mean, I might be a little—”

“What? Buzzed?”

She crossed her arms. Her
non-response gave me my answer.

“It’s the same goddamned
thing,” I said. “This isn’t a joke. How dare you. How dare you, knowing what
I’ve been through.”

A car pulled up in front of
us. Evan was driving, and two other guys I didn't recognize were in the back
seat. He motioned to them to stay in the car, before he jumped out on the
sidewalk.

“Oh my God, what happened?”
Evan asked. “Are you guys all right?”

“I’m fine,” Melanie said, and
turned away from me. “I just want to go back to the party.” She jumped into the
back seat, didn’t say another word to me. She tossed Evan the keys to the Prius.
“Can you drive the other car?”

Evan stared at her with a
furrowed brow. “Why can't you do it?”

“According to Sydney, I'm
drunk
, I'm not allowed to
drive
. And I wouldn't want to upset her!”
Her words dripped with so much sarcasm that I wondered if Melanie had ever
heard of the word, subtlety.

“Uhh… all right,” Evan said, baffled.
“Kenny, can you drive her back?”

“Sure,” the blond guy said,
and he hopped into the driver’s seat. Melanie and the others took off down the
road, leaving Evan behind.

He approached us, a grievous
expression on his face that looked more adorable than sad. “I’m sorry,” he
said. “I really wanted you to have fun tonight.” He opened the Prius passenger
door. The front bumper was pushed up against the curb, but the car didn't
appear damaged at all. “Here, get in.”

I tugged Robert toward me. “No,
it's fine. We'll walk.”

He bit down on his tongue, like
he wanted to scream at me. “She didn’t have that much to drink. She was fine
enough to drive you two freakin' miles—”

“She blew through a stop
sign, Evan. She almost hit a kid in the street.” I sighed. I was tired of
fighting. “Look, I’ll just… I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“But—”

“I don’t want to ruin your
night.” I waved him away. “Go. Have fun.”

I walked toward campus,
Robert at my side. He was still stumbling a little, so we walked slowly, with
me guiding the way. It was barely nine o’clock, but it felt like two in the
morning. People were just leaving campus to go out for a night of wild partying,
and I was the lame-o already headed back to the dorm for an early bedtime. I hated
being the lame-o. I just wanted to be normal.

“Maybe they’re right,” I
said. “Maybe there is something wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with
you,” Robert said, still slurring his words. “You’re perfect.”

“Yeah?” I tapped my fingers
against his forehead. “Tell me that in the morning, when you can see straight.”

“But… I’m not straight,” he
said. “I'm gay.”

I chuckled. “Exactly.”

We walked for the longest time,
for thirty minutes, at least. I dropped him off at O'Malley Apartments, which
was just a few steps down from McCarthy. I made sure he got up to his room in
one piece, before I headed back to my place.

I hit the bottom bunk hard.
It had never felt so soft and welcoming in my life. The cold wind picked up outside,
and blew into the room, against my face.

I wanted to sleep, and forget
this night ever happened.

So of course I just laid there,
for hours, thinking, and hoping.

One, that someday I would break
out of my awkward shell.

And two, that I would finally
be able to put James behind me, once and for all.

Chapter 8

The car smelled brand new,
like vanilla. And the boy next to me smelled of the strongest vanilla extract.

Evan wore only a pair of tight
white undies. His hair was a laughable mess, some of it in curls, some of it
sticking straight up. But I didn’t mind. His hands were pressed against my
chest.

“Sydney, I want you.”

I licked my lips, and said,
“I want you, too, Evan.”

He drew his tongue into my mouth,
and I pushed my hands against his cheeks. I was still fully clothed, in a white
tank top and a pair of ripped jean shorts. He wasn’t going to have that, though.
Not any of it.

He tore through my tank top,
then unhooked my bra with his sharp, needy teeth.

“What are you doing?” I
questioned, like I was scared of getting caught.

“Something I’ve wanted to do
since the first moment I saw you,” he answered, in full control.

I rubbed my hands against his
stone-hard abs, and kissed the side of his neck. I stroked my thumb first against
the small globe-shaped tattoo on his left hip, then against the six letters
that made a circle on his beefy right shoulder. S-Y-D-N-E-Y.

He ran his fingers down past
my breasts, past my belly button. He stroked his pinky across the cusp of my
underwear.

“Evan…”

“Shh.” He brought his lips
down to my chest, then ran his tongue against my belly button.

“Evan... please... don't stop.”

He caressed my ass, and said,
“Trust me. I don't plan to.” He kissed me all the way back up to my cheeks. He pushed
his forehead against mine, stared into my eyes with an intense longing. “Are
you ready?”

I didn’t say a word. Just
nodded. And waited.

He slipped his fingers
underneath my jeans.
 

“Evan… oh Evan…” I felt it.
His fingers. His touch, his perfect touch. I closed my eyes. “Oh my
God
!”

I let out a scream, as I
blinked myself out of my dream. My mouth hung open for a moment, while I tried
to catch my breath.

I brought my hand to the side
of my neck, and took in my surroundings. The wind had ceased, and the sunlight
was streaming in. My pillow was covered in drool.

“Whoa,” I said. I blinked a
few times, but no matter how many times I did, the image of Evan Taylor standing
almost naked in front of me only seemed to strengthen.
 

I sat up, heard the loud banging
of fingers against a keyboard past my bed.
 

“Melanie?” I asked.

“Yeah. Hey.” She said it so
solemnly, like someone had died. I slunk down against my mattress for a second.
I hadn’t yelled Evan's name in my sleep, had I?

“What... uhh... what time is
it?”

“It’s almost ten.” She finished
her typing, pushed her chair back, and stood up. She was already dressed,
showered, everything. She grabbed a sweater from her dresser drawer, plus a
scarf, and said, “It’s supposed to rain today, just FYI.”

I looked out the window. That
magical sun streaming in was about to disappear behind a chunk of black clouds.
“Oh. Damn.”

“Tell me about it.” She
headed toward the front door.

“Wait, where are you going?”
I asked.

“Just out with some friends.”

“You don’t want to talk?
About last night?”

“It’s fine, Sydney. I’ll see
you later.” She rushed out of the room before I had a chance to stop her.

I sat up, dangled my legs off
the bed. I shivered. The clouds were only starting to roll in, but the cold was
already here.

I checked my phone. There was
a missed call from Lukas, so I dialed him.

“Hey, what’s up? You called?”

“Yeah, I wanted your advice
about something,” he said, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. “I'm trying to
decide which final to study for
first
.
There’s so many to choose from!”

I laughed. “Oh yeah?” I played
with my hair, as I tried to remember all the classes Lukas had this semester. “Let’s
see. You could start with sociology, of course.”

“Uh huh. Or psychology, maybe,”
Lukas said.

“Or what about History of
Africa? Remember, that final’s fifty multiple choice questions, plus two essays
and an oral presentation.”

“Oh, yeah. That's right.” He
stayed quiet for a moment. I waited for him to say it first. I knew he was
thinking it. Finally: “You know what? I don't
have
to start studying yet. How about we go to IHOP and get some
breakfast?”

I grinned. “I think that's a
great idea.”

I picked up Lukas a half-hour
later. He sported his adorable black-framed glasses, and a light green sweater over
his treasured brown Corduroy pants. He looked dressed to impress, unlike me,
who just threw on a blue LMU sweatshirt and a saggy pair of jeans. We had two
pancake breakfasts at IHOP, and then saw the latest Gerard Butler romantic
comedy at the Rave Cinemas 18. I gave him grief for picking it—the latest
from both the Coen Brothers and Wes Anderson were out—but he wanted to
see something stupid, something to keep our minds off finals.

“I can’t believe you suckered
me into that,” I said, as we headed toward the theater exit. “That was the
dumbest movie I’ve seen in forever.”

“At least it had a happy
ending,” Lukas said. “And he was so
cute
!”

“Ugh, whatever.” I powered on
my phone. Checked the time. “It’s almost 3. Fun time's over. We should get back.”

“We will,” he said. “Let’s just
walk around a little first.”

We headed to the circular
seating area outside the theater. The black clouds hovered over us like giant spaceships,
but no rain was falling yet, thankfully. I had remembered to put on a
sweatshirt, but forgot to bring an umbrella.

Lukas wrapped his arms around
his waist and said, “It's kind of cold out, don't you think?”

“It totally is. Although it’s
sad when it’s like sixty degrees, and we’re both shivering.”

We headed up the escalator to
the second floor of the Promenade, an outdoor mall a couple miles east of
Loyola Marymount. At the top were a nail salon, a sporting goods store, and a
Starbucks.
 
 

“You thinking what I’m
thinking?” I asked.

He stepped in front of me. “Always.”

We entered the Starbucks, and
I strutted up to the counter. “Two hot chocolates, please!”

Lukas headed to the bathroom
after we paid, and I waited for the drinks. When the barista handed them over,
I debated keeping both for myself. They looked divine, but Lukas’s looked even
better. He’d ordered extra whipped cream.