Page 178 of Shade
“Probably.”
“Ready?” I hold up my keys.
“Nope.” He gives a gentle shake to his head. “I’m not riding withyouagain. I don’t see how you still have a driver’s license.”
He’s referring to the time I took him to a doctor’s appointment a few weeks ago. By the end of the car ride, he swore he’d never ride with me again, though he said that before, and iced his neck for an hour afterward.
“You’re not getting on your bike, and besides, I’m wearing a dress. Treat me like a lady.”
He pulls his keys out of his pocket. “I have other cars.”
With his hand on the small of my back, he leads me to the garage where he clicks the remote and starts a black car. I don’t know anything about cars, but this one looks fast and fancy and is rumbling so loud I can feel the vibration in my chest.
I run my hand over the sleek black fender. “When did you get this? You steal it from the set ofThe Fast and the Furious?”
“I’ve always had it.” He watches my hand on the fender and then lifts his eyes to mine. Do you notice the way his body shifts, into mine but he’s still tense? This car has a story behind it. And then he admits, “It was my dad’s car.”
My heart’s in my throat. I drop my eyes to the car, the hood scoop, the shine; he’s certainly taken care of it. “And you kept it all these years?”
He laughs lightly. “You don’t get rid of a 68 Dodge Charger RT.”
“True.” And before I know it, my back is pressed against the passenger side door and he’s kissing me. His tongue sweeps over the seam of my lips and the warm metal of his tongue ring sends a shiver through me. I part my lips, allowing him access and I’m immediately aware this kiss is promising. It’s electrifying and the way his hands find my hips, bunch in the fabric of my dress, I’m reminded what could happen tonight.
Suddenly, I want the date out of the way and us getting to the good parts.
Shade pulls back, breathing heavily. “We should go before I lay you out on the hood and fuck you.”
I nod, trying to catch my breath. “You’re right.”
AT DINNER, IT’S like any other date. . . I assume. Then again, it’s not.
By the time we’ve ordered drinks and an appetizer, Shade has been approached four times for his autograph and pictures. Everyone wants to know when he’s coming back, how he’s feeling and if he plans on competing at Aftershock next month.
“I’m sorry,” he says, sighing when the last group of teenagers leave the table. You’d think at a fancy restaurant they wouldn’t find us here, tucked away in the back, but they do.
I sip my wine. “It’s okay.”
He leans in, elbows resting on the table. “No, it’s not. You deserve to have a date, not this.”
He’s frustrated, and that’s the last thing I want for tonight. “It’s really okay. I’ve never been on an actual date before so. . . this is perfect.”
Shade’s brow furrows. “Really? You’ve never been on a date?”
“Nope. The only guy I ever really dated in that sense was Asher, and he never took me out on a date.”
“When did he die?” Shade asks, lifting his glass of water to his lips, but keeping his eyes intent on mine.
Take a look at my face. Do you see the confusion as to how Shade knows Asher died? Up until now, I haven’t told him anything about Asher aside from the fact that he liked to pierce me.
So how’d he figure it out?
“What are you talking about?” My words tremble.
“Asher,” he says, voice soft and eyes low. “Your boyfriend who pierced you. When did he die?”
The moment he says “Asher,” the pain hits me so hard I feel a sword spears my soul.
Oh God, there’s that pain. That overwhelming, consuming, horrendous pain I’ve kept hidden for so long. It’s like a blinding hot dagger to my heart. No one ever mentions it anymore and hasn’t for years. They’ve forgotten or pretend to have forgotten, but I haven’t. Just like Shade can’t forget Rhya. It’s a reminder that nothing is forever.
