20
Hannah
Where are we going?” I asked as we barreled down theinterstate.
“It’s asurprise.”
“Mmhmm.”
“Don’t mmhmm me, lady.” He pinched my leg and I swatted his hand away as I watched Exit 3 pass usby.
“Okay, so we’ve passed Auburn… so it’s not a fratparty.”
His eyes cut over at me. “A frat party? Really.” An arrogant smirk flashed over his lips. “Do I look like the frat boytype?”
“Of course not, so”—I looped my arm through his and leaned my head on his shoulder—“where are wegoing?”
“Patience is a virtue; any preacher’s daughter should know thatshit.”
“Wow,” I laughed. “You are just…”Everything I need and wantand…
A few minutes later he veered off the interstate, taking a right down a two-lanehighway.
“You’ll love it,” he said, tapping his hand over the steering wheel. “At least you better or I’m questioning ourfriendship.”
Friendship?My heart sank a little, but I shook it off.What does it matter anyway? It doesn’t. “Mmhmm.”
“God, you and that mmhmm.” We turned onto a dirt road, and half a mile down the headlights shone over a large No Trespassing sign nailed to a tree. Noah, of course, drove right pastit.
“Um…”
“Yeah?”
I thumbed back toward the sign. “That said NoTrespassing.”
“Yup.” There was a slight smile on hisface.
“And…”
“I’m illiterate. What did you say itsaid?”
“Noah!” I slapped his arm, letting my hand linger over his bicep for asecond.
“Ah, come on, country girl, don’t tell me you don’t know that anything they tell you not to do is more than worthdoing.”
I sank down in the seat. A tingle of a thrill darted up my spine while my conscious whispered to me that this was not a good idea. I glanced over at Noah, all bad-boy smiles and tattoos, and I knew that wherever he was taking me might end with a night in jail, but when you’re with Noah Greyson, well, a night in jail doesn’t seem sobad.
We came to the top of the hill and he put the truck into park, cutting the engine. “Alright.” He grinned while he threw the door open. I watched through the windshield as he rounded the front and came to open my door. Without a word, he grabbed my hand and yanked me out. There was nothing around us but a field and at the bottom of the hill, a string of lights. “What arewe—”
He placed a finger on my lips, shushing me. I was tempted to jab my elbow into his ribs, but he threaded his fingers through mine and dragged me to the back of the truck. There was that southern silence surrounding us: the cicadas, a plane humming in the distance. “Alright,” he said, placing his hand on my waist and lifting me into the bed of his truck. “Promise not toscream?”
A nervous laugh slipped through my lips. “Okay, I’m not so sure I like the way thissounds…”
“Nah.” He winked as he hopped over the side of the truck, climbing in and taking a seat next to me. “But really, don’t scream.” He grabbed onto me and pulled me back against hischest.
His fingers went to my hair, brushing through while he hummed in my ear, and just when I closed my eyes and relaxed into him, the roar of the plane grew louder and louder. I tensed, and he squeezed me. “It’sfine.”
The rumbling got so loud, I went to cover my ears and then—whoosh—my hair whipped across my face. The smell of jet fuel permeated the air as the plane whizzed right over us. The red flash of the landing lights danced over the top of the truck before the tires screeched against a runway. Adrenaline shot throughme.
