I grab his head, rub it, and then kiss him on the nose. I still can’t stop smiling, but I’m not laughing at him, just trying to work the puppy-dog eyes.
“You’re forgiven,” he says and points underneath the hood. “I need you to hold this piece still right here for a second.” I go around to that side, peer underneath the hood, and stick my hand into the area, feeling for his fingers to guide me.
“Yeah, right there,” he says. “Now just hold it.”
“For how long?”
“Until I say,” he says, and I see the grin sneak up at the corner of his mouth. “If you let go, the oil pan will fall out and we’ll be stuck here for a long time.”
“Well, hurry up then,” I say, already feeling a crick in my neck beginning to form.
He walks around to the trunk and gets a bottle of water. Slowly he twists off the lid. Takes a sip. Looks around at the fields. Takes another sip.
“Andrew, are you screwing with me?” I peek around the raised hood the best I can to see him.
He just smiles. And takes another sip.
Dammit, he is screwing with me! I think…
“Don’t let go. I mean it.”
“Bullshit,” I say and start to move my fingers, but decide not to. “Are you telling me the truth? Seriously?”
“Yeah, sure I am. The oil pan will fall right out and it’ll probably splash all over you too. Hard to get that shit off your skin.”
“My back is starting to hurt,” I say.
He takes his sweet time, and just when I’m about to let go, he moves around behind me and grabs me by the waist, pulling me away from the hood. One hand comes up and he smears black gook all over my cheek. I shriek at him and push him away.
“Gah! Shit, Andrew! What if I can’t get this stuff off?” I’m seriously pissed, but a small part of me can’t resist that smile of his.
“It’ll come off fine,” he says, leaning back underneath the hood. “Now just get in the car and turn the key when I tell you to.”
I snarl at him once before doing what he asked, and in no time the Chevelle is running again and we’re in our way to St. Petersburg, just an hour away.
Today feels a lot like summer, and we can’t get enough of it. After we get to our hotel room and take a much-needed shower, we head to the nearest department store to buy him a pair of swimming trunks and me a bikini, intent on heading to the ocean for a swim.
He insists on the tiny black bikini with little silver stars, but he isn’t the one who’ll have to keep pulling that butt floss from between my cheeks every five seconds. So I settle for the cute red one with a tab bit more coverage.
“Probably better you picked that one, anyway,” he says, as we hop inside the car in the parking lot of the store.
“Why’s that?” I ask, grinning, as I kick off my flip-flops.
“Because I might end up busting a few jaws.” He puts the car into reverse and we back out.
“Just for looking?” I ask with a hint of disbelief and laughter.
His head falls to the side to look at me. “Nah, I guess not. I kind of get off on it when other guys look at you.”
“Ewww!” I scrunch up my nose.
“Not like that!” he says. “Geez!” He shakes his head as if to say UNbelievable, and we pull out of the parking lot and onto the street, which is busy with tourist traffic. “It just makes me feel good, y’know, having you on my arm. Does wonders for a guy’s ego.”
“Oh, so I’m just an arm trophy to you?” I cross my arms and smirk over at him.
“Yeah, babe, that’s all I keep you around for. I thought you knew that already.”
“Well, I guess then it’s no secret that I keep you around for the same reason.”
“Oh, really?” he asks, glancing over before staring at the road in front of him.
“Yep,” I say and lean my head back on the seat. “I just keep you around to make bitches jealous. But at night, I’m dreaming about the love of my life.”
“Who might that be?”
I purse my lips and look all around me, then back at him playfully. “Well, I won’t tell you his name because I don’t want you to go after him and see you get your ass kicked. But I can tell you that he’s got medium-brown hair, gorgeous green eyes, and a few tattoos. Oh, and he’s a musician.”
“Really? Well, he sounds awesome, so why use me as your arm trophy then?”
I shrug, because I can’t really think of a good line.
“Come on, you can tell me,” he says. “It’s not like he and I talk.”
“Sorry,” I say, glancing over, “but I don’t talk about him behind his back.”
“Fair enough,” he says with a smile. “You know what?”
“What?”
Andrew grins mischievously, and I don’t like it one bit.
“I remember a couple of things on our first road trip that you never got around to doing.”
Uh-oh…
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lie.
He drops his right hand from the steering wheel and rests it on his leg. That daring look in his eyes is gaining momentum, and I try not to make my growing nervousness so obvious.
“Yeah, I think you owe me a bare ass in the window, and I still need to bear witness to your bug meal. What will it be? Grasshopper? Cricket? Earthworm? Or, maybe a granddaddy long leg. I wonder if they have granddaddy long legs in Florida…”
My skin is crawling. “Give it up, Andrew,” I say, shaking my head. I prop my foot on the door and twirl my braid between my fingers, trying to mask my worry. “I’m not doing it. And besides, that was the first road trip and you can’t just carry stuff over like that. Should’ve made me do it when you had the chance.”