I catch Jase’s gaze on me, so I look and I’m pretty sure he’s looking at my now exposed neck, exactly where he’d bite.
And we’re swerving now as he just about crossed the center line and a little green hatchback is laying on the horn.
“Fuck,” he mutters, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.
I just did that? I just nearly made Jase crash the car because he got fixated on my neck?
“Imagine if I flashed my boobs,” I mutter aloud, by complete accident.
His jaw tightens. “You’re gonna pay for that, Bay,” he warns, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.
I’ve got my hand over my mouth. “I didn’t mean to say that outside my head.”
“What else aren’t you sayin’?” he asks, his tone dangerous.
“None of your bee’s wax,” I reply haughtily.
“When you let me off this leash, you’re in big trouble, baby. That’s all I’m sayin’. Don’t wanna scare you off. Now, let’s change the subject before you send me into the rut. Tell me about your day.”
“How can you drop comments like that and expect me not to be scared? That’s terrifying.”
His expression relaxes. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, babe.”
But he does terrify me. He has the power to obliterate me over and over, the way he already has, and what can I do about it?
“Good day or bad day?” he asks.
“Uh… um… it… it was… long.”
“Was it ever…” he mutters.
“You and Linc had a fight?” I blurt.
His expression hardens. “Who told you?”
“It doesn’t matter. Are you okay?”
“No. But I will be,” he assures.
“Is Linc okay?” I ask.
“Linc is Linc,” he says.
Not sure what that’s supposed to mean, but I drop it.
I marinate on the fact that Jase is taking me to a carnival for corndogs and to a John Hughes movie marathon. Mom got me hooked on those movies years ago. We do a marathon every few years for all those movies. And I often put on Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, or Pretty in Pink just as background noise when I can’t sleep, like the other night.
Mom and I rotate through our marathons. A Julia Roberts marathon. One of all the Twilight movies. Every spring we picka theme for a rainy weekend. This year it was two days of Elvis Presley movies.
“Did Grey give you the lowdown on all this stuff about me?” I ask.
“What?” He laughs. “I’ve known you your whole life, Bailey. I think I know stuff about you, too.”
“I didn’t think you paid attention to stuff about me.”
“I probably didn’t,” he admits. “Not really. But I told you… I’ve been reflecting.”
After a few minutes of silence, I ask, “Have you talked to anyone in your family since that meeting?”