Wicked Restless (Harper Boys #2) (8 page)

Thankfully, Emma thinks differently, her head falling to the side again, her hands retracing their path along my arms.

“That’s sweet,” she sighs. “I got my work. It was a planned trip. With my family.”

“I figured,” I say, not able to pull my eyes away from hers. “You have really pretty eyes.”

She lets her head fall forward against mine as she lets out an embarrassed laugh.

“I’m serious,” I say. “Don’t let that make you uncomfortable. I mean…it’s almost selfish not to take that compliment. Think of all the people walking around with really hideous eyes.”

She laughs harder, and her grip on my arms gets tighter.

“You’re really funny, Andrew,” she says. I move my hands back to their rightful spot on either side of her face.

“And maybe a little cute? Maybe…just a little?” I squint. I’m teasing her, and I’m begging her. I want this girl to be
the
girl—my girl. The one I take to things and experience everything with.

“I’d have to say….” She pauses, her eyes taking in various features along my face, like she’s evaluating me, but her grin betrays her, breaking into her cheeks until we’re staring into each other’s eyes again. “Yeah…you’re pretty cute, Andrew.”

I blush. I can feel it, my cheeks warming, my mouth unable to keep a straight face. Every part of me is smiling.

“I’m gonna go ahead and kiss you now,” I say, my lips practically tingling to the point they almost feel numb.

Emma pinches her lips closed tight in a tiny smile, as her eyes close again. Her head held in my hands, I move her the few fractions of an inch left between us until I feel the tickle of her breath and her bottom lip between mine. She lets out another breath, and I suck her lip, tasting it with my tongue, holding her here, in this perfect place, this perfect moment, until I’m sure I’ll never forget it.

Then I move to her top lip, doing just the same. Tugging it into my mouth and holding it lightly with my teeth until she whimpers. My hands find their way into her hair, and she turns so more of her body is facing me, her hands sliding around my neck and back, pulling our bodies closer together.

When her tongue finally brushes against my lower lip, I know that I’m gone. I will never be the same after tonight. I’ve kissed girls, been fixed up on dates of younger siblings of people my brother knew, and I’ve had crushes.

Emma Burke is different from anything else.

She’s what I’m supposed to have. She’s what my first kiss should have been. And she’s the only kiss I ever want to remember. I kiss her harder, letting my tongue explore the inside of her mouth, letting my hands move down her back until I grab her hips and ass, pulling her into my lap to straddle me. I kiss her and touch her and memorize every frame of us, erasing everything that I ever knew of what a girl was supposed to feel like before.

We kiss like this for nearly an hour, the windows of my car frosting up with our breath. I touch her skin, letting my hands roam under her shirt, feeling her back and shoulders until I know it’s okay to feel more.

I touch her breasts, letting my fingers find every curve, my thumbs grazing her nipples and my mouth watering with the want for more. But I know that this is as far as Emma Burke wants me to go. And I’m okay with that, because this girl has me, every part of me. She owns it all, and I am willing to wait for every new touch, knowing that it will feel just the same, just as perfect as this one does.

She is what I will look forward to.

When I look at the dashboard finally, I realize it’s nearly two in the morning, and at some point, both Emma and I need to return home. I don’t want her parents to worry, so I sigh as I stare into her eyes one last time.

I reach into my pocket finally, looking for my keys, but don’t feel them. I check the other pocket and then let my hands start to search the sides of the seat when I don’t feel them there either. I’m about to slide my hand between the seat and the console when Emma starts to giggle.

“You,” I point at her. She dangles my keys from her thumb, fumbling with the door handle and finally racing from my car as I lunge at her. I get out of my side and race after her, catching her only a few steps away, pulling her into my arms and lifting her in front of me. She kicks her feet up into the air as I raise her, her entire body rumbling with the vibration of her laugh.

“Girl, you are going to make your parents hate me if I don’t get you home before they notice you’re gone,” I say, reaching for the keys as she pulls them into her chest.

“I know. We can go, but…” she looks at the keys in her hand then up to me. “Can I drive? I know, I know…it’s your car and she’s some Camaro or something, but…”

“I don’t know,” I say, feeling a little bit like an asshole over the fact that I don’t want her to drive my car.

“It’s…it’s okay. It was a dumb idea, never mind,” she says, handing my keys back to me. I take them and follow her back to the car, but I grab her fingertips just as we get to the front of the car, pulling her into me.

“Here,” I say, closing her hand around the keys while I kiss her one last time.

“Really?” Her voice is almost a squeal, and I can tell how excited she is. I nod
yes
, then move to the passenger door, climbing inside. Emma slides in excitedly next to me, pushing the key in quickly and turning the engine before we’ve even buckled up.

“Whoa,” I say, grabbing my belt and buckling fast.

“Oh, right. Sorry…” she says, biting her lip. “I was anxious, and I didn’t want you to change your mind.”

“It’s okay, just…take it easy. This car has some kick, all right?”

She nods and buckles her belt, checking all of the mirrors and turning on the lights before moving the shift into reverse. The car rumbles as she backs out slowly, her lip firmly planted in her teeth now. I don’t think she’s letting go, and her concentration is my second-favorite expression she makes. My first, the one she makes right before I kiss her. She idles her way to the exit, turning slowly onto the main roadway, and she glances at me before she looks back to the road, scooting forward in her seat, clutching the wheel, and pressing on the gas.

We travel for about a mile, going maybe thirty miles per hour, and eventually I start to laugh.

“Don’t make fun of me,” she chides, reaching at me with one hand, but only for a second, returning her grip to the wheel.

“I’m sorry, you’re just so damn cute,” I say. “You’re so nervous. It’s a car, you just drive it.”

“I drive my mom’s Honda Civic. It’s…like…
way
different. Trust me,” she laughs nervously. She’s constantly looking over her shoulder, then in both mirrors. We’ve made it maybe two of the ten miles we need to travel.

“I know, trust me. I drove my mom’s boyfriend’s Buick, remember?”

She glances at me and smiles, then looks back to the road, relaxing a little more into her seat, the gas flowing a little heavier as our speed finally climbs up to forty-five.

“I loved that car, too,” she says, blushing for a different reason now.

“You know I tried to be your partner for square dancing first, right?” I say, taking in her profile. I love the slope of her nose and the high roundness of her cheeks.

“You faker. I’m the one who picked you!” she huffs. It’s cute that she wants credit for such a simple thing.

“Yeah…you did,” I say, knowing the truth. I picked her the second I saw her legs stretched out in the hallway. I think maybe I chose her once in one of my dreams.

Our calm shifts into chaos in a blink.

Emma screams as she jerks the wheel to the right, sliding the car into the rough brush along the side of the road. We skid, fishtailing a few times before coming to a hard stop that sends both of us forward, our bodies held fast by the pull of our safety belts. Her forehead slams into the steering column, cutting her just above her eyebrow.

“Emma, Emma,” I say her name over and over, my veins coursing with adrenaline, my body numb with panic and fear. She looks at me, and blinks; her tears are instant.

“Oh my god, Andrew! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

She’s panting; she’s breathing so hard. She’s fighting to free herself from her seatbelt, and I’m only making it worse by getting my hands tangled with hers. I finally hold her hands still, and my other hand rushes to her face, moving her hair to the side.

“Emma, you’re bleeding,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm.

She touches her fingers to the place on her head where mine are, then pulls them in front of her to see the red on her hand.

This only makes her cry harder and begin to shake.

“I hit something. Andrew, I hit someone,” she shouts. Her body is shaking, and her eyes look terrified.

I felt it too. Just before she jerked the wheel, something hit the front of the car. I wasn’t watching the road. I was watching Emma.

Emma was watching me.

We didn’t see it.

“It’s okay,” I say. “You hear me? It’s okay.”

I reach for the passenger door and she grabs for me.

“No, Andrew. No! Don’t leave!”

I hold her hand, bringing her fingers to my mouth. Her cut is dripping blood into her eye now, so I reach into the glove box for a napkin and put it in her hand.

“Hold this right here,” I say, guiding her hand and pressing firmly on her gash. “Leave it there, and keep the pressure on. I’ll be right back.”

She nods, but I can already see her hand starting to slide down and grow weaker. I push on it again, and she follows my lead, pressing harder.

I step from the door and move to the front, seeing the large dent in the bumper. The headlight is busted too, and there’s blood on the glass. My stomach drops, but I don’t let my face show any of it.

Watching her watch me through the back window, I hold up a finger, signaling I’ll be right back. I step into the roadway, keeping my face still, no sign of the terror ruling my body. When I turn back to the road, I see a large mass lying on the asphalt—my only relief, it’s moving.

The moaning hits my ears when I’m ten feet away; I realize it’s an older man and his dog. I rush to his side—his head is bleeding onto the pavement.

“Sir, can you hear me. Sir?” I shout. I touch his neck, looking over him again, and he rolls to his side and the extent of the cuts and injuries to his abdomen and face hits me.

“Sir, I’m going to call for help,” I say, standing and fumbling my phone from my pocket. My eyes are seeing things in scenes—in flashes, really. This man lying on the ground, his injuries, his dog whimpering at his side flat against the road—they are all scenes from a nightmare—then I look to the car, nearly one hundred yards away, and my eyes lock onto Emma’s…I realize this nightmare, it’s just beginning.

The emergency operator answers instantly, and I give our approximate location along the dark rural road. The temperature feels about twenty degrees colder than before, my breath thicker, and the air damp with mist.

I pull my sweatshirt from my body, wrapping it around the man’s head, resting it easily on the pavement and promising him I’ll come back. He seems to be fading in and out of consciousness. I reach for his small dog, and it growls at me, so I leave it where it is and jog back to the car, where Emma is now rocking in the driver’s seat, her eyes wide and full of tears.

“He’s going to be okay. Emma, listen to me.” I cup her face in my hands, turning her to face me. I feel badly because I’m being a little forceful, but she’s slipping into a real state of panic, and I don’t think that’s going to help.

“Andrew, this is going to ruin everything,” she says.

I shake my head
no
. She’s just panicking, and I understand that. But the man is going to get help; he’ll be okay. My car—it’s just a dent. These things, they’re not forever nightmares.

No.

“You don’t understand,” she says, her voice more forceful, her worry showing in her eyes in a different way. There’s something about the way she’s looking at me that says something more, something she can’t seem to verbalize. “Andrew…I can’t. This…oh my god. Andrew—”

Her shaking begins again, so I cradle her to my chest tightly, looking out the window that is hazing over with dew from outside.

“They are going to take everything away,” she whispers against me, her eyes open, staring into emptiness. Nothing I say seems to bring her out of this trance. I know I need to get back out to the roadway, to the man lying there in far worse shape than either of us, but I can’t leave her here, without hope. There’s an absolute look of fear on her face, and the more seconds that pass, the more dire her expression becomes.

“Come with me,” I say, stepping out of the passenger side and moving quickly to the driver’s door, opening it and pulling on her arm. She shakes her head
no
, so I reach in and lift her into my arms, carrying her to the passenger side, where I place her in the seat I just left.

“What are you doing? Andrew…no…”

“Shhhhhhhh,” I interrupt her protest, holding her head to mine as I kneel in front of her. “Listen to me. You. Were not driving. Tonight—you never touched the keys. This car, you never drove it. Not once—ever. I was driving. Do you understand?”

“Andrew…I can’t let you…” I look up and see lights reflecting in the distance, an ambulance and fire truck on the way. Police will not be far behind.

I leave her in the seat and rush over to the ignition, pulling the key out and wiping it with my shirt then shoving the keys into my pocket. I run back around the front of the car to her, and hold her in place as she tries to step out from the car.

“Emma, I’m going to be fine. He’s hurt, and we didn’t do anything but have a horrible accident. He was walking on a dark road at night. I didn’t see him step into the roadway, and I hit him with the front end of the car. I called for help right away, and you hit your head on the dashboard.” I repeat myself three times, and she shakes her head and mutters
no
the entire time. I see the police cars trailing behind the medical help, and I know I only have seconds to get her on board with my story.

“Emma, I drove this car tonight,” I say with more force, my teeth gritting. She needs to embrace this—she needs to let me lie. “I’m going to say this to them, and I need you to back up everything I say. I
need
you to!”