“You're a real bitch, you know that?” Brett Parker scowled at Gracie across the dimly lit interior of his overpriced BMW.
“And?” Gracie didn't feel the least bit sorry.
“You didn't need to hit me.” He stuck his fingertips in his mouth and sucked on them.
“When a girl tells you to stop trying to stick your hand up her skirt, you should stop trying to stick your hand up her skirt.” She wasn't surprised his hand hurt. Gracie's own thigh stung where she'd smacked her heavy leather purse down on top of Brett's creepy crawly fingers. He'd been trying to slip his hand under the hemline of her skirt without her noticing. Her reaction had been instinctive.
“Tonight was supposed to be magical. You aren't letting the magic between us happen.” Brett shot her another baleful, disapproving glare.
“Magic?” Gracie couldn't help laughing. “We're at Take-A-Taco. In the drive-thru.”
“What's wrong with Take-A-Taco?” Brett appeared genuinely insulted.
“Nothing. Unless you think it’s magical. The only thing magical about a .29-cent taco special is that they managed to put any meat in the tortilla for that price.” Gracie considered explaining her thoughts but then decided Brett Parker wasn't worth the effort. She twisted her long blonde hair up into a ponytail. She no longer cared if she messed up the delicate curls she'd spent two hours and a whole can of cheap hairspray creating. “You promised to take me out for a nice dinner. Take-A-Taco is pretty much the opposite of a nice dinner.”
“You're just mad I asked you to pay for your own food.” Brett reached for her arm and attempted to stroke her shoulder. She leaned closer to the door to avoid him. The car just wasn't wide enough. His fingers were clammy when they brushed against her arm. She didn't like the feel of his hands on her overexposed skin.
Gracie regretted letting Kelsey, her roommate, humiliate her into ditching her favorite tight jeans and paisley print halter top for the too short, too tight black skirt and silky black spaghetti strap top with a plunging neckline that left nothing about her b-cups to the imagination. Kelsey said Gracie needed to look sexy if she wanted to impress Brett. Gracie thought she looked like Hooker Barbie. Apparently, Brett thought so too. He had been shamelessly trying to grope her since they had left campus.
“Refusing to pay for my taco definitely isn't helping your cause.” The car inched forward through the drive-thru lane. Gracie shook Brett's caressing hand off of her arm and gritted her molars together.
“I thought girls liked being viewed as equals?” Brett asked. “A lot of the girls I've met don't want me to open doors for them or pay for their food. You telling me you aren't one of those liberated chicks?”
“Not really,” Gracie said. “Asking a girl out to dinner and then telling her she has to pay for her own $3 meal is rude.”
“A lot of girls only want to date me because I have money.” Brett admired his own reflection in the rear-view mirror. “Making girls pay for their own shit is my way of weeding out all the gold diggers, you know?”
“I honestly just think you're a cheap pervert.”
“A pervert?” Brett glared at her. “Don't act like you're doing me a favor by being here. There are plenty of other girls on campus who would be more than willing to do anything I asked them to do. You didn't have to come out with me.”
“And I wouldn't have agreed to go out with you if I had known that dinner and dancing at The Lounge would turn into driving in circles and Take-A-Taco.” Gracie tried to remember why she had thought going on a date with State University's most notorious playboy would be fun.
“What can I do to make you want me?” Brett put his hand back on her thigh. His fingertips brushed against the hem of her skirt. Gracie picked his hand up and shoved it back into his own lap.
“Nothing.” Gracie had never actually wanted Brett. She'd agreed to go on a date with him because she knew it would make Kelsey stupidly jealous.
Calvin Walker was the only guy Gracie ever wanted. Cal could sit behind the wheel of his truck and give her that come-on-over-here grin he'd been using since Little League, knowing that she'd practically melt into the ripped cloth seats of his jacked-up Chevy 1500. Brett wasn't in Cal's league. He wasn't even playing in the same ballpark.
“Nothing?” Brett's car moved ahead in the drive-thru lane by a single car-length. He pulled his hand back off of her thigh and began fidgeting restlessly with the collar on his $350 baby blue golf shirt. His phone chimed in his pocket.
“You're a liar and a pervert.” Gracie said. “Not to mention that the girlfriend you promised me you didn't have has been texting you all night.”
“You're a bitch. I'm thinking maybe I should give Susanna another chance.” Brett smirked as he replied to the text message he'd just received.
“Maybe that's a good idea.” Gracie wrinkled her nose at him in disgust. “It doesn't bother her you're a drug dealer?”
Brett's head jerked up and he nearly dropped the phone. “Hey, I am not-.”
“Save your breath.” Gracie waved one hand in the air dismissively. “I have ears. You promised to get someone a bottle of Lortabs and a two month supply of Viagra less than 10 minutes ago.”
“I have connections.” Brett didn't have the decency to look ashamed of himself. “It’s good pocket money.”
“I didn't think you needed the money?” The smell of greasy meat wafting through the air was making Gracie vaguely nauseous.
“You know, I can give you a little something to improve your mood,” Brett told her with a bold smile. “I have a bottle full of little white pills that will have you screaming my name in ecstasy before the end of the night.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” Gracie didn't try to hide her disgust. “You can keep the date rape drugs to yourself. I'm done.”
“Done?” Brett repeated the word as a question as he drummed his fingers against the custom leather steering wheel cover.
“Done.” She double checked her purse to make sure her wallet and keys hadn't spilled out during the drive.
“You're not done until I say you're done.” Brett reached out and grabbed her wrist.
“Go to hell.” She reached for the door handle as his phone chirped to announce the arrival of yet another text message.
“I don't think you understand how this works.” Brett's gaze flickered over her. She could see the irritation in his eyes as she reached for the handle on the door. He made another attempt to get hold of her wrist. “You aren't in charge here.”
“Have a nice night, Brett. I'll find my own way back to the dorm from here.” She tugged on the door handle. Nothing happened. It took her a minute to process that the car had automatically locking doors. She pressed the unlock button on the armrest. Nothing happened. She pressed the button again. Still nothing. She turned back to Brett. “Why won't this door open?”
“It’s locked. The only one who locks and unlocks the doors on my car is me. Sorry.” Brett didn't look at all sorry.
“Not funny, Brett. Let me out.” Gracie wondered if manually unlocking the door would override whatever he'd had done to keep her from being able to open it. She wished she didn't bite her nails as she examined the locking mechanism on the door.
“I can't let you out here. This neighborhood isn't safe. You're going to get mugged and raped if you try to walk through this neighborhood alone at night.” Brett rubbed her wrist as he pretended to genuinely care about her safety.
“I'll take my chances.” Gracie snatched her arm away from his manipulative caressing.
The car inched ahead in the drive-thru line on its own accord, nearly running into the bumper of the Ford truck ahead of them. Brett remembered to press the brake pedal with a quarter of an inch to spare.
His phone went off again. He looked down at the display on his phone and hurriedly put it back in his pocket.
Gracie wedged her fingers under the lock and pull it to the unlocked position. She tried the door handle again. Nothing happened.
“You're not getting out unless I decide to let you out.” Brett laughed.
“Look, you have about thirty seconds to unlock this door.” Gracie was beyond aggravated.
“Or what?” Brett taunted her.
“Or I'm going to scream bloody murder and say I'm being kidnapped when you pull up to the window to pay for your food.” She gestured at the window that was a mere two cars away. “I'm sure your uncle's campaign manager would love to explain why the governor's nephew is kidnapping girls. That backpack full of pills in the back seat is perfectly legal, right?”
Brett's hazy blue eyes got wide. “You wouldn't.”
“Try and stick your hand up my skirt one more time. See if I don't.” Gracie kept one hand on the door handle as she spoke. She fully intended to bolt the moment the door unlocked. She'd take her chances with the imaginary muggers and rapists on the streets.
The truck in front of them pulled up to the window to pay. Brett didn't follow it. Instead he sat in the driver's seat staring daggers at her. The people in the truck in front of them received their food and pulled away from the drive-through window. Brett's BMW was now the only car in the line.
“You want to go back to school?” Brett glared at her furiously. “You got it.”
He hit the accelerator with enough force to knock Gracie backwards into the passenger seat. He squealed his tires as he drove past the pick-up window without stopping to pay or picking up his food.
Gracie cursed under her breath as Brett's car slid sideways on the pavement and barreled out onto the main road, heading the opposite direction from campus.