“Maybe. Sometimes I don’t feel like I’m from anywhere at all. I don’t like to look backwards, anyway. I’m more about tomorrow than yesterday, which is kind of ironic considering—” She tossed up both hands. “Sorry, I was doing it again. I’m feeling sorry for myself, I think, and that’s not usually what I’m like. This party isn’t exactly my scene. I was hoping that tonight—” Her mouth twisted. “I wanted to do something fun, you know? I’m about to launch into the real world, and I just needed to blow off steam one last time. But not like this.”
“I get that.” I hooked my thumbs into my belt loops. “I’m heading back to . . .” I hesitated. Telling people that I went to West Point usually went one of two ways, neither of them positive: either they acted like I was something special, like I’d won some kind of lottery when I’d been admitted to the Academy, or they saw me as a sort of narc, a drone soldier who couldn’t think for myself. Neither stereotype was accurate, so it was easier to be selective about what I shared and with whom. So I ended up mumbling lamely, “Um, I’m heading back to real life, too.”
She sized me up in silence. “How old are you?”
I quirked an eyebrow. “That’s random. Why do you need to know?”
She rolled her eyes. “I just thought you were probably older than me. I figured you already know a lot about life after college. Real life, like you said.”
“Maybe I am older than you,” I countered. “I’m twenty-two.”
“Oh. So am I.” She exhaled, her shoulders slumping a little. “But when I was in there, I felt closer to forty. Do you ever look at the people around you and feel . . .I don’t know, removed? As if you’re watching shit happen to you and to them, but you’re not really part of it?”
“All the time,” I admitted. “Especially when I’m here. It’s like watching a movie about people I used to know, but I’m not part of the cast anymore.”
“Exactly!” She smiled again, and my body reacted in an oddly visceral way. I wanted to step closer to her, to feel the warmth of her near me, to breathe her in and touch her luminous skin.
It was crazy. That’s what it was. I didn’t know this woman. But weirdly, it felt as though I did. There was something familiar about her, something I couldn’t quite name. Was it the warm gleam in her eyes? Or the curve of her lips as she smiled at me?
“When did you go to school here?” I heard myself asking. “I feel like I’ve seen you before. Somewhere.”
“My class graduated this past May, but since I finished at a different school, I haven’t been around for over a year.” She studied me with a slight frown. “I don’t think we’ve met. I would have remembered.” Her cheeks went rosy, and she bit her lower lip. as though she’d said more than she’d intended.
“Are you here with someone? At the party, I mean?” I wasn’t sure why I asked, but I needed to know the answer.
“No.” She shook her head. “Well, I came with two friends who dragged me along, but they’re both otherwise occupied at the moment. I was trying to figure out how to get back to where I’m staying.” She tugged a cell phone from her jeans. “YouRideIt doesn’t seem to work out here.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. We’re kind of out in the sticks. Cell service is shit in the country.” I paused, not sure of the words I was about to say. “Listen, I know I’m a stranger, and you probably have all kinds of reasons to say no, but I’m about to take off, and I’d be happy to drop you wherever you wanted.”
She went silent, her eyes steady on my face as though she were trying to read my sincerity and intentions there. Or maybe she was just weighing her options. It had been a stupid idea, I told myself, annoyed. Smart women didn’t get into cars with guys they’d just met, especially when we were, as I’d just mentioned, out here in the middle of nowhere.
But when I opened my mouth to rescind the offer, I heard myself upping the ante instead. “Hey, if it makes you feel better, you can drive.” I dug my keys out of my pocket and dangled them from one finger. “And I don’t let just anyone drive my car, so that’s a big deal.”
After another long moment of staring at me, she nodded. “Okay. I guess . . .” She glanced over her shoulder at the open doorway. “I don’t feel like sticking around here.”
“Same,” I replied with feeling. I couldn’t wait to get away from this place.
“All right. If you’re sure.” She narrowed her eyes. “And do you promise that you’re not a serial killer? I really don’t want to end up as the stupid girl in the horror movie.”
A burst of laughter escaped me. “That’s what worries you? Being the stupid girl?”
“Sure. If I’m dead, I’m dead. Nothing I can do about that. But what kind of a legacy is that to leave?” She lowered her voice as though narrating a movie trailer. “She jumped into a car with the first willing stranger who offered her a ride . . . and she was never seen again.”
“Uh-huh.” I lifted one eyebrow. “I’ll promise that I’m not a serial killer, or a rapist, or anything else nasty, but in the future, you probably shouldn’t take anyone’s word for that. Because it seems like the first thing that a violent person would say, you know?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, that has occurred to me. But I think I’m a pretty good judge of character most of the time.” She held up her wrist. “Also, I have a smart watch with a panic button on it, and my phone has one-touch emergency settings. You so much as try to talk me into pulling off to drive down a dark road, and I’m hitting both of those babies.”
“Heard and understood.” Almost unconsciously, I squared my shoulders and stood at attention.
“Great. Glad we’re on the same page.” She held out one hand, palm up, and I grinned as I dropped the keys to her.
“By the way, my name’s Dean.” I didn’t add my last name. It didn’t really matter, after all. I was only giving her a ride.
“I’m Willow,” she answered, and I noticed that she didn’t share anything else, either.
We walked toward my car, Willow following me but staying a safe distance away—in case I was going to renege on my promise and drag her into the bushes, I guessed. It was a good idea; not that I planned to hurt her in any way, but I didn’t like the idea of her putting herself in any sort of danger. I was glad she seemed to be smart about her personal safety.
Aside from accepting a ride from a stranger, that is.
