Lydia led voluntarily to subjects which her sisters would not have alluded to for the world.
— Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Volume III, Chapter Nine
After shoving his bass and amp in the tiny back seat of the Beetle, Zach waved a hand at the front passenger seat.
It was piled high with CDs.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He scooped them up, or most of them, and deposited them on the floor of the back seat.
Reaching down, I grabbed the few he’d left behind. The Killers. Beethoven. Benny Goodman. Lady Gaga.
Lady Gaga?
After Zach sat down in the driver’s seat and saw her CD in my hand, he shrugged. “I play anyone who has talent.”
I climbed into the Beetle, too, and buckled up. I had my doubts about Beethoven, but I had to admit Zach had eclectic taste. “The Killers?”
“They’re sick.” He slid their CD from my grasp, pulled it out of the case, and inserted it in his CD player. So much for Green Day, but at least it wasn’t Beethoven or Mozart or anyone else who lived before the earth’s crust cooled, which probably included Benny Goodman. “Okay if I play it?”
I nodded, not really caring. I’d be home in ten minutes. It might take Zach longer than that to find Green Day in the massive pile of CDs in his car. Hadn’t the guy ever heard of an aux cord?
As I leaned back in my seat, he started the engine. Eardrum-shattering music—the Killers, apparently—erupted from the radio.
I blinked. Okay, this was pretty good.
Before I could settle in to the first song, though, he started punching buttons. “Let me play my favorite song of theirs. ‘Read My Mind.’ It reminds me of you.”
And it was his favorite?
What about Lauren?
Shaking off that thought, I listened as Zach pulled away from the curb and headed down the street. Sure, he was going in the opposite direction of my house, but he probably didn’t want to try a U-turn in front of all these cops.
I loved the melody, the rhythm of the song, and couldn’t help tapping my fingertips on my thigh. It totally drew me in. When I listened more closely, though, I frowned. I slid a sideways glance at Zach, whose gaze was focused straight ahead.
He still wasn’t heading toward my house, but that didn’t matter as much as the words of the song.
Words like “a subtle kiss” and “a big trapeze.”
A big trapeze?
Thoughts of Justin, and the circus troupe I joined for about two minutes, and Justin again, flooded my brain. Wisconsin Dells followed by Milwaukee followed by the Montana outpost of Reform Schools R Us. One long nightmare.
This song reminded Zach of me.
“Read My Mind”? He definitely couldn’t.
I stared out the window, partly to avoid his face and partly to memorize my surroundings in case Zach’s actual plan was to dump my bludgeoned, lifeless body in a ditch somewhere.
Because he didn’t seem to be driving to my house.
A silent five-minute drive later, he swung into the parking lot at Dairy Queen, parked, and turned off the Killers. Thank God for small favors.
I frowned. “Hungry?”
“I think the food at Kirk’s party consisted of a single bag of lime-flavored tortilla chips. I hate lime.”
He climbed out of the Beetle, so I did, too. For lack of better things to do.
“He had plenty of beer.”
Zach waited for me, then walked across the lot to the door, which he held for me. “I don’t drink.”
My eyebrows rose.
He shrugged. “I don’t need alcohol to have a good time, and it’s illegal, and my mom—”
“—would be pissed.”
He shook his head. “Not pissed. Disappointed.”
My parents had spent their lives being disappointed in me. No, probably just Dad. Mom still had my back when it counted, which was often, even if she hadn’t been able to prevent or cut short my stint at Shangri-La.
We reached the counter, where a fresh-scrubbed worker batted her eyelashes at Zach and acted as if I didn’t exist. Smiling possessively, she held up a cherry Dilly. “The usual?”
Zach thanked her, then turned to me. “What would you like?”
I’d like it if my stomach stopped jumping, but the Jeep and the broken window and all those drugs kept flashing through my brain on a never-ending loop.
“A small Coke? But I can get it.”
“My treat.” He ordered a Coke for me, a Sprite for him, and a chocolate Dilly Bar. When he handed me the chocolate Dilly, the girl behind the counter looked like she’d just swallowed battery acid. “I hate to eat alone, so you’d be doing me a favor.”
Ha. Right.
But I seriously had no idea if my stomach would tolerate the Dilly or send it right back up, possibly in Zach’s face.
As I sipped my Coke, he led me to a cozy corner table. Okay, the ten million kids in soccer jerseys and cleats who surrounded us made it less than cozy. Not that it mattered. This wasn’t a date.
Understatement.
I had no idea what to say, which had never happened to me with any guy I’d known before Zach.
But I didn’t know him, and he didn’t know me. If he did, “Read My Mind” would not remind him of me. At least, not the part about the trapeze.
“Why did that song remind you of me?”
Damn. My mouth really needed a lock and key. Ever since Milwaukee and Shangri-La, though, I despised locks and keys.
Zach, who was busy nibbling the cherry shell off his Dilly Bar and leaving the ice cream virtually untouched, didn’t seem to have heard my question.
I looked at my chocolate Dilly, felt my stomach do a half-hearted somersault, and took a sip of my Coke.
“Thanks.” I nodded at the Coke and the Dilly, even though the odds of me eating the Dilly Bar were slim to none. “I mean, if you’re going to kidnap a girl, this is a decent place to bring her before dumping her dead body in a drainage ditch. You know, last meal and all. Very sporting of you.”
Zach nodded. “Problem is, I forgot to put a shovel in my car. The bass and amp took up too much room.”
He had a sense of humor. Oh, wait. Of course he did. He was out with me in public.
Not that he was really out with me.
“So. The song? Why did it remind you of me?”
He kept nibbling for several seconds as a dark-red flush crept up his neck. “Oh, you know.”
“I don’t, actually.” I’d also have to look up the lyrics the moment I got home. “Tell me?”
He studied his Dilly, which was now bare of its red shell. “The whole thing about reading your mind. I’ll bet no one has ever read your mind, even if half the guys you know think they can.”
My jaw dropped.
He waved his Dilly in the air. Luckily, it hadn’t yet melted enough to fly off the stick. “I don’t mean it that way. I just—”
He took a bite of his ice cream.
I didn’t touch mine.
He pointed at my Dilly Bar. “It’s going to melt. Didn’t you want a Dilly?”
No, but I picked it up anyway. Peeled off the wrapper. Took a tiny bite. Swallowed. Managed to keep it down. Barely.
“Look.”
I didn’t. Not at him, anyway.
“Lydia.”
I still didn’t.
All around me, a gazillion pint-sized soccer players were whooping it up, squealing and laughing. I glanced at my Dilly, then set it down on the wrapper and stood up. “Thanks, really, but I’m kind of in the mood to walk home, and it’s still decently light out.”
It wasn’t, actually, but I’d call Liz the moment I walked outside and beg her for a ride. If I had to, I’d even beg Dad.
Zach grabbed my hand.
I glanced down at it, at him, coldly, waiting for him to let me go.
“The thing is—” Nope, he wasn’t letting go. “Every guy thinks he owns you. Or wants you. That’s why I got pissed tonight. At Drew, at Kirk, even Michael.”
I snorted. “Michael has never even looked at me, but you’re tired of crap like that? Welcome to my world.”
He tugged on my hand, gently, until I finally sat down.
Totally against my will.
“I heard what happened to you.” Zach finally let go of my hand, leaving it cold. In more ways than one. “I’m sorry.”
Just like that, eating the Dilly Bar seemed like a good idea. It might keep me from shoving it in Zach’s face.
“Yeah?” I aimed for blasé, which felt even harder than my D chord. “In Milwaukee? Old news.”
Even if it still felt fresh, and horrifying, to me.
“No.” Zach waited until I met his gaze before continuing. Let’s just say it took a while. “When you were a freshman. After the homecoming game.”
My breath caught in my throat. Tiny black splotches danced before my eyes. Waving them away, I looked out the window, as far away from Zach as I could without my head spinning on my neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Anyway, I’m sorry.” Zach took several licks of his cherry-coating-bare Dilly, then a bite. Another bite. A huge one. “If I’d heard at the time, I would’ve done something, even though I was just a sophomore.”
“You didn’t know me.”
I sucked a big gulp of my Coke, choking on it until a tween boy behind me shrieked that I was choking to death and several hands—all of them probably sticky as hell—thumped me on the back.
After Zach got rid of the kids, or mostly, he shrugged. “I knew who you were. And everyone knew the star quarterback of the football team.”
I pushed to my feet again, too fast for Zach to stop me this time. “I have to go.”
“Can I have your Dilly?”
My eyes flew wide. “You’re kidding.”
“Yeah.” Just like that, Zach was at my side, but holding my chocolate Dilly Bar. “I mean, you get first dibs. And I can’t carry the sodas, too.”
I glanced back at our table but kept walking. Out the door. Past Zach’s bright-orange Beetle. Headed for home or hell or wherever.
I didn’t much care.
“I’ll walk you home, but I do have Green Day in my car.”
I snorted, even though icicles of long-ago pain kept nailing me with every step. “That’s what you promised, but you played the Killers. They couldn’t possibly read my mind.”
And neither can you.
“And neither can I.”
Jesus. Could he?
Zach slowed his pace to match my faltering steps. “But I’d like to.”
“Why? Because I’m friends with Lauren?”
This time, Zach’s steps faltered. In fact, he tripped over a rock on the sidewalk that, in fairness, I really should’ve pointed out to him.
“Lauren?”
I rolled my eyes. “Your girlfriend?”
“She’s my friend. One of my best friends, actually, since we were little kids.”
I didn’t want to have this conversation. I also didn’t want to walk home, but I couldn’t call Liz for a ride if Zach planned to stay glued to my side.
For reasons I couldn’t begin to understand.
“Anyway. I heard the rumors about you, and I remembered what everyone said Blake bragged at the time.”
Zach was intrepid; I’d give him that.
“Please. Stop.” I held up a hand, using it as an excuse to turn back to Dairy Queen. One way or another, I was getting a ride home. ASAP. “It was a long time ago, and it wasn’t true, but everyone thought what they thought.”
Even my own sisters. Liz had graduated that year with Blake, Mr. Star Quarterback. They weren’t friends, but as far as I knew he’d left Woodbury High with his testicles intact. If Liz had known the truth, he wouldn’t have.
At least, I’d always hoped so.
“Lydia, I remember the look on your face. For months afterward.”
So not true. I’d pasted a cocky grin on my face the next day and every day since.
Until Milwaukee. When I grew up.
I shook my head. “I don’t know what you thought you saw, but it doesn’t matter. Besides, you never said anything.”
“I didn’t know you.” Reaching the rock he’d tripped over a few minutes ago, Zach kicked it. “I didn’t know Blake, either, but I know his college football scholarship fell through for reasons other than his academic eligibility.”
We kept walking in silence.
Wait. What?
“You did something?”
Next to me, he squirmed. “Um, my mom might’ve. I mean, I’m not sure. But she—”
I skidded to a halt. “You told your mom? Even though you didn’t know me or know what really happened?”
His mouth twisted. “Yeah. Maybe I can’t read your mind, but I would’ve had to be blind not to see the look on your face when you thought no one was looking. Back then, and ever since.”
It was too much—way too much—and I refused to cry.
I’d cried myself out three years ago, or so I hoped. I’d also thought I was the only person in the world, besides Blake, who knew what happened that night. The big senior football star had flirted with me after the game—me, a lowly freshman with a crush and an inflated ego—before sweetly offering me a ride home and then driving to a dead-end road.
The rest was history. And I couldn’t change it.
But I could lash out at Zach.
I patted him on the arm as a knife twisted inside me. “Hey, I totally get it. Now you know why all the bad boys want me, even if you don’t. Which is a total relief. You’re not my type.”
I took off, grateful for running shoes and the fact that I’d logged a lot of miles in the last week in addition to all the time I spent sweating all over the uneven parallels. I might not make the team, but I could run like hell when I needed to.
Right now, I needed to.
Before Zach saw the tears rolling down my cheeks and tried to read my mind.
I made it a block before he caught up to me.
Damn it.
“You’re not my type, either.” He was breathing hard, which made me happy. A little happy. “But you’re really not Drew’s or Kirk’s type.”
He ran just so he could slam me like this? Actually ran?
I jammed my hands on my hips, something Liz usually did right before taking down pretty much every guy—besides Alex—who’d ever crossed her path.
It probably explained why Liz got all the varsity letters and Jane got all the boyfriends, but I didn’t want to be Jane. Not that I wanted to be Liz, either.
I met Zach’s serious gaze and raised him one. “What is it you want? To protect me from every guy on the planet? Thanks, but not necessary.”
Not since Shangri-La, definitely. Except for Drew, who was going out with Chelsea and therefore desperate by definition, no one was lining up to go out with me or even just hook up with me, which was a relief.
Mostly.
Zach held my chocolate Dilly up to my nose, nailing me with it. “You forgot your dinner. Someone needs to make sure you eat.”
“I already did.” Just like that, my stomach erupted in a growl reminiscent of a herd of water buffalo. Crap. Feeling like an idiot, I laughed along with Zach and grabbed my Dilly out of his hand. “But for the record, I’m not hungry.”
“Then give me back the Dilly.”
As he took a step toward me, I shoved him backward. “Not on your life.”
He grinned, but that’s when it got weird.
He didn’t hit on me.
Didn’t try to pull me into his arms, didn’t try to kiss me, didn’t give me a lame-ass smoldering look, didn’t even say something flirty or suggestive.
Oh, right. He was with Lauren.
Even if he’d said he wasn’t. Hadn’t he?
“You don’t really want to walk home, do you?” He tilted his head, studying me. Nope, not a drop of smoldering. “When at least two Green Day CDs are sitting in my car?”
“So you say.” I glanced down at my Dilly, which was on the run to melting all over my hand. Rolling my eyes, I handed it to Zach. “But you don’t have to give me a ride.”
He inhaled half of it in one bite. “You didn’t have to give me your Dilly.”
I snorted. “Self-preservation. You would’ve tackled me for it.”
But he still wouldn’t have tried to kiss me, let alone go for more.
“You don’t know that.” Zach finished the Dilly with his second bite, but his hand was a mess of melted ice cream. He licked it. “But sure. It’s possible.”
Without another word, we turned back toward Dairy Queen. He pointed out a rock on the sidewalk before I tripped over it. He was a better person than I was. So sue me.
We reached his Beetle and climbed in, even though his hands had to be beyond sticky and even though the space inside his car felt too confined. Too—I don’t know—embarrassing.
He had a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer in the glove compartment. As I stared, he put a dab on his hands and offered the bottle to me with a lift of his brows.
“Hand sanitizer?”
His mouth quirked. He’d smiled more tonight than in the entire time I’d known him. “My mom.”
He didn’t even blush. At this point, I just laughed.
Twisting, he reached down to the floor of the back seat and dug through the huge pile of CDs. “Found 'em.”
He handed me two CDs, Dookie and Insomniac. How did he know they were my all-time faves?
It was almost like he could read my mind.
Ha.
Wordless, I handed one back to him. Equally wordless, he started the car, popped the Killers out of the CD player, and inserted Insomniac.
Then he pulled out of the DQ parking lot. This time, he headed for my house.
Just when I wished he wouldn’t.
Ten minutes later, he pulled up in front of my house.
In mildly shocking news, Dad wasn’t waiting at the front door with a shotgun.
“Green Day, as promised. Your house, as promised.” Zach gave me a crooked smile. “Sorry I didn’t drop you in a drainage ditch, which sounded like a big fantasy for you, but I’ll be better about the shovel next time.”
Next time?
“Um, thanks.” I fidgeted in my seat but didn’t unbuckle. A guy drove me home on a Friday night and didn’t have the faintest interest in kissing me, let alone doing more. What was I supposed to do with a guy like that?
Zach unbuckled me. “It’s not even ten. Maybe your dad will let me live.”
“You never know.” Still, I didn’t open my door. I leaned ever so slightly in his direction, but he didn’t take that hint, either.
“The thing is . . .”
My gaze flew to his eyes, which were so serious. And dark. And, okay, gorgeous. “Yeah?”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing wildly. “I think every guy in the world has wanted to kiss you—and maybe more—and half of them say they have, but I don’t think it’s true.”
He really did pay attention.
But what did he want? Guys all wanted something, didn’t they?
“The thing is, I’d like to be friends.”
Oh. Wow.
Nodding, I bit my lip but didn’t say a word. The huge lump in my throat pretty much prevented it.
“We can work on your D chord, move on to bar chords, and maybe put a band together.”
“Wait.” I held up a hand, even though words were still beyond hard. “Last time I checked, you’re already in a band.”
He laughed, softly. “Not after tonight. And I’m thinking I can steal Heather and maybe even Jeremy away from Kirk.”
I frowned. “Not Michael?”
“Michael thinks you’re hot.”
Not as far as I could tell, but whatever. “Jeremy doesn’t?”
He wagged a finger in my face. “My guess? Neither does Heather, but you can’t have them all. Besides, Jeremy still likes your sister.”
“Even though he dumped her?”
He rolled his eyes. “You really don’t talk to her, do you?”
“Not lately.”
“So you can work on that and your D chord. And gymnastics.” He shook his head. “In case I ever need to catch you again, though, please don’t work on your running.”
I couldn’t figure him out. At all. “Why would you want to catch me? Your Dilly Bar is totally safe from me. I mean, probably.”
He laughed. “For a smart, savvy, streetwise chick, you have no idea.”
Then, for the briefest moment, he touched his lips to mine.
“I—” Was that a “friends” kiss? Was it even really a kiss at all? “I thought you wanted to be friends?”
He grinned and climbed out of the VW, then walked around to my side and opened my door. “I want that, too.”