“It’s still open, just a crack at the bottom,” I say, but Jase is already shaking his head.
“Trust me, it’s not. I already tried it. The window’s closed and locked.”
Thank God for the garage. I head back over to it and punch in the code to raise the door.
Only, it doesn’t. Instead, the keypad makes a sharp noise as the buttons are all highlighted in red, signifying their rejection. I know I didn’t forget the code. We’ve used the same one for thepast ten years. Punching it in more slowly, I try again, only to get the same result.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I’ve only had to use the remote in my car or the button in the garage, and if the keypad code was changed, nobody said anything to me about it.
Sure, my car is parked down the driveway and the remote is still inside, but the doors are locked and the alarm is set. That wouldn’t be a problem if I had my keys, but I don’t. They’re currently in my purse, which I don’t have. All I have is a clutch barely big enough for my phone, lip gloss, and wallet.
The last thing I want to do is ask anyone in my family for help, but the house is pitch black, and no one answers the door after I ring the bell half a dozen times. With no other option, I shoot Vanessa, Blythe, and my dad all text messages, asking for the keypad code.
And then we wait. And wait. And wait.
Nothing.
Jase and I polish off what little is left of the gummy bears he has on the porch, still not getting an answer from anyone.
To my utter embarrassment, my stomach grumbles loud enough for him to hear, making a furrow appear between his eyebrows. “Didn’t you just come back from dinner?”
I level him with a look that only makes him laugh.
“Ah, they were serving ‘rich people’ food.” A.k.a. tiny, absurdly expensive portions.
It doesn’t help that I haven’t eaten much since breakfast. With how nervous I knew I would be, I didn’t want to risk upsetting my stomach before going out on my date. I look at my phone, practically strangling the life out of it as I pray for a text message to come in. All I want right now is sustenance.Actualsustenance.
“Were you planning on going out after this?” Jase asks, motioning to my prim and proper getup.
I shrug. “Maggie mentioned something about a party, but I didn’t say whether or not I would go. Why? You got a hot late-night date you need to clean up for?”
Thank the baby Jesus that it comes out teasing when I say this, but why does a pang of something rather unpleasant ripple through my stomach that has nothing to do with the absence of food? I try to shake away the memory of what he said when he answered Natasha’s call outside the dress shop, to no avail.
Of course, she has to have a hot girl’s name. It couldn’t be something like Gertrude or Helga.
What the hell am I thinking?
I can’t seriously be jealous. I just came back from my own date, after all!
Gee, hypocrite much, Ali?
Thank God Jase isn’t privy to my internal monologuing. He just consults the clock on his phone before looking southbound at the fireworks display far off in the distance. “I’ve got time to kill. What do you say we get some food in you?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. He’s already up on his feet, extending his hand to me with a smile thatshouldalarm me. “But first, we need to make a pit stop.”
Giventhat the sun had set long ago, there’s no way Jase would take the chance riding through the woods in the pitch black, so I’m not too concerned when Jase drives us on his motorcycle to a trail that dirt bike riders utilize not far from town. That one reassurance is enough to make me cave and not question what he has planned.
Yeah, I immediately regret that decision as Jase pulls back onto the road and proceeds towards the beach.
“No,” I say. “No way inHell.”
That mischievous grin on Jase’s face shows no sign of wavering, and its boyish quality as he bats his eyelashes at me somehow only makes him more adorable. “You said you wanted to try it.”
“No, I said it looked like fun. And I said itafterI had been drinking, for the very first time in my life, mind you.”
That little admission has Jase’s grin spreading into an all-out smile as he places a hand over his heart. “You never told me I popped your cherry.”
I glare at him, but it apparently doesn’t have the bite to it I intend. Because he popped a lot of my so-called “cherries,” though I won’t concede to this one. “If I remember correctly,Iwas the only one bringing the liquor bottle to my mouth, so I’m pretty sureIdid the popping.”
He chuckles. “Fair enough, but have you ever donethis?”
