“Is this yours?” I asked.
Jason glanced at me, and then a look akin to panic swept over his features. “Yeah, it is. Can you put it back, please?” His voice was calm, too calm. He looked almost angry.
I hurriedly zipped the bag closed, clicked the clasps in place, and re-covered it as I’d found it. “I’m sorry,” I said, unsure of what I’d done wrong. “I was just curious. It’s a really nice camera. Was it a gift?”
Jason fist tightened on the wheel. “No. Bought it myself.”
“How’d you afford this kind of camera? These cost, like, two thousand dollars.”
“That’s a D800. They’re three grand retail. I got that one online for a little over two.” He twisted his fist around the steering wheel. “I saved up to buy it.”
“You have a job? I didn’t know that.”
Jason blushed, more from anger than embarrassment, it seemed to me. A vein in his temple throbbed. “I don’t have a job.”
“Then how?”
He didn’t answer for a long time. A traffic light turned red, and we slowed to a stop. “This stays between us, okay? Not even Nell can know.” I nodded, and he blew out a long breath. “My dad pays me two hundred per game we win, plus twenty bucks for every touchdown I score. I also get a thousand dollars if I get straight As for an entire year. If I maintain a 4.0 average all four years of high school, he’ll go in half on whatever car I want. So that’s how I bought this truck. My uncle Rick was selling it, so he gave me a good deal on it. Then I bought the camera.”
“So that’s your motivation to win all the time?”
He jerked the gearshift violently into second as we accelerated away from the green light. “Partly.”
“What’s the rest?”
He glanced at me, then away, the shutters drawn across his features. “Not important.”
I sensed a deep secret here, and I knew I shouldn’t push, but I did anyway. “Maybe it is to me. I want to know about you.”
“Drop it, Becca. Please.” He didn’t look at me, and he spoke in a whisper that somehow communicated his desperation.
“Okay, sure. Sorry, I d-didn’t mean to p-ppp-pry.” I dropped my gaze, upset that I’d upset him, and confused by his sudden shift in demeanor over a camera.
Jason groaned in frustration. “Damn it, Becca, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just…there are some things about me that are just…that I can’t talk about.”
“Is it okay to ask you what you take pictures of? Could I see them?”
Instead of answering, Jason spun the wheel, barely touching the brakes and then tapping the accelerator so the truck skidded across the center line and onto a wide dirt road, the back end fishtailing in the gravel and sliding on an angle before he corrected it straight once more. I was gripping the oh-shit bar above my head and barely breathing as he powered the truck forward, and then I openly shrieked when he took a long curve at dangerous speeds, his brights on, illuminating the narrowing track ahead of us. He seemed to know each and every curve by heart, turning the wheel and touching the brakes before the turn so he could accelerate through the curve in practiced power slides. My heart was hammering in my chest, pounding with equal parts terror and excitement.
“Jason! Please don’t crash us!” I was pleased that I said it without stuttering, considering how rampant my nerves were.
He just grinned at me, a cocky flash of straight white teeth. He rounded another corner, then abruptly braked down to nearly a stop and twisted the truck onto an even narrower two-track path through the woods. He took this much slower, reaching down to twist a knob so the four-by-four engaged. The path dipped and rose, and he often had to gun the engine to power the truck over hills, only to speed down the other side.
“Where are we going?”
He pointed ahead of us with a finger flicked from the steering wheel. “Not too much farther. A favorite spot of mine.”
The truck dipped precariously sideways as the path twisted and ducked low under a pair of spreading oak trees. Another half mile or so, and the track petered out to nothing, and we were jouncing over grass and between trees. The ground leveled off, then began a slow rise that grew steeper with every foot until the truck was straining upward at a steep angle. At the top, Jason turned the truck to the side and stopped it, cutting the engine but leaving the radio on. He turned off the headlights, dug out the blanket, and hopped out of the truck, gesturing at me to follow. I pushed open my door and hopped to the ground, immediately chilled by the cold air. Jason had the back of the bed lowered and was standing up, waiting for me. I started to climb up, rather awkwardly, but Jason bent at the waist, caught me under my armpits, and lifted me bodily off the ground. I squealed at the sudden loss of gravity, and as soon as my feet touched the ribbed bed of the truck, I stumbled forward and wrapped my arms around him.
“God, Jason! Don’t do that!” My voice was muffled in the waffled fabric of Jason’s long-sleeve shirt. He smelled like cologne, deodorant, and sweat, and something else spicy and unidentifiable.
“Scared?” He sounded amused and pleased with himself.
I huffed in irritation and glared up at him. “Startled, maybe. Not scared. Give a girl a warning before you haul her off the ground next time, will you?” Jason just chuckled. “You’re really strong, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “I work out a lot. For football, and because sometimes I just need the outlet.”
“Outlet? What do you mean?”
He hesitated. “Umm…god. Okay, listen. I don’t have the best home life, Becca. I told you how my dad pushes me to be perfect, right? He’s just…he’s not always a nice guy. We fight a lot, and sometimes I just need to…vent. That’s all.”
Things clicked together, and my stomach sank at the meaning between the lines of what he wasn’t saying. “Does he hit you, Jason?” I pulled away and watched his face carefully, sure he was going to avoid the question.
He looked down at me, his features hard and closed. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Don’t get involved. I don’t need saving.”
I frowned. “So that’s a yes, then. Why have you never told anyone?”
Jason pulled out of my arms and turned away. He squatted and spread the blanket out on the bed of the truck, then un-strung a pair of hook-ended bungee cords holding a cooler in place. Opening the lid of the white and blue Igloo cooler, he withdrew a six-pack of Coke, four wax-wrapped sandwiches, and a bag of potato chips.