plastic shopping bag just in case you get sick again. You might want to keep the door open until—”
“I promise not to throw up in your car.”
He winked and took off toward the house.
CHAPTER FIVE
I Know You Care
by Ellie Goulding
I took a shuddering breath and looked around the interior of the car to distract myself from all the emotion and nausea that threatened to spill out: a stack of library books and a crimpled shirt on the backseat, a pressed, white, Polo shirt with long sleeves hung from the handrail, a paper shopping bag full of trash sat on the floor between the two front seats. The outside of the car looked clean, but the inside needed a good vacuuming.
The driver’s side door opened and Stay managed to get his long body inside. “ Your coloring looks much better,” he said, handing me my purse and a plastic bag. “I have good news and bad news.”
“Ugh. Give me the good news first.”
“ Sam says she feels fine and has an iron stomach. She still has the keys and will open the shop at ten and said not to rush in. The bad news came from Red who said that Jacqs threw up a few times before she finally fell asleep.”
“Great,” I mumbled.
He touched my thigh and said, “Are you feeling okay enough to shut the car door?”
“Oh, yeah, yes.” I took a deep breath and sunk into the seat.
“I’ve never been to your place so you’ll have to direct me,” he said as he drove down the road away from Red’s house.
“It’s two exits up from here.”
“Is it easier to take US1 or hop on the highway?”
“Either works.” I lay back and closed my eyes. “This car is so quiet and smooth.”
“Yes it is. It took some getting used to when I first got her.”
“Her?” I said, opening my eyes and slanting my head in his direction.
“Of course,” he said, shooting me a quick glance. “All cars are female.”
“Even a Mustang GT with a V8 engine?”
His deep laugh filled the car. “Most definitely a Mustang, but she’s more like a dominatrix wearing red leather and holding a bullwhip.”
I laughed with him that time. “Such imagery. Well, your girl could use a good vacuuming.”
While we were stopped at a light, he looked around the car. He shrugged and said, “I guess. I usually wait until there’s an inch of sand.”
My mouth dropped open and then I realized he was kidding me.
“Are you a clean freak?” he asked as he drove up the north ramp to I-95.
“I do like things clean and organized. Are you a messy pers—” I closed my eyes and leaned back against the headrest.
“Are you okay? Should I pull off the next exit?”
“Why don’t you. That way if I have to, you know, you can pull over.”
“Toss your cookies?”
I put the cold water bottle to my head and said, “That’s one way of saying it.”
“Should I come up with some others?”
“Uh, I think I’ll take a pass.”
He reached over and touched my hand. “Should I head toward US1?”
Somehow he had made it through my bubble of self- protection; because I didn’t flinch or feel inclined to swat his hand away. It actually felt kind of nice, as if he projected calming energy. “Yes and make a left on Seventh Street.” I sighed and said, “Thank you for taking me home. Between the alcohol and throwing up I don’t think I could have made it there myself.”
“Yeah and staying at someone else’s house when you ’re feeling sick is the worst. I always want my own bed.”
“And my own clean bathroom.”
“Do you like everything to be line up neatly too?”
“Yes, I don’t feel comfortable with a lot of chaos around me . I don’t see anything wrong with that.”
He fl ashed his crooked smile. “Nothing wrong at all.”
I pointed to the right and said, “You can park in my spot.”
He turned off the engine and came around to my side to help me up. I felt unsteady on my feet. Having consumed two and a half hard apple ciders and no dinner wasn’t helping matters. After I got my keys
“I promise not to throw up in your car.”
He winked and took off toward the house.
CHAPTER FIVE
I Know You Care
by Ellie Goulding
I took a shuddering breath and looked around the interior of the car to distract myself from all the emotion and nausea that threatened to spill out: a stack of library books and a crimpled shirt on the backseat, a pressed, white, Polo shirt with long sleeves hung from the handrail, a paper shopping bag full of trash sat on the floor between the two front seats. The outside of the car looked clean, but the inside needed a good vacuuming.
The driver’s side door opened and Stay managed to get his long body inside. “ Your coloring looks much better,” he said, handing me my purse and a plastic bag. “I have good news and bad news.”
“Ugh. Give me the good news first.”
“ Sam says she feels fine and has an iron stomach. She still has the keys and will open the shop at ten and said not to rush in. The bad news came from Red who said that Jacqs threw up a few times before she finally fell asleep.”
“Great,” I mumbled.
He touched my thigh and said, “Are you feeling okay enough to shut the car door?”
“Oh, yeah, yes.” I took a deep breath and sunk into the seat.
“I’ve never been to your place so you’ll have to direct me,” he said as he drove down the road away from Red’s house.
“It’s two exits up from here.”
“Is it easier to take US1 or hop on the highway?”
“Either works.” I lay back and closed my eyes. “This car is so quiet and smooth.”
“Yes it is. It took some getting used to when I first got her.”
“Her?” I said, opening my eyes and slanting my head in his direction.
“Of course,” he said, shooting me a quick glance. “All cars are female.”
“Even a Mustang GT with a V8 engine?”
His deep laugh filled the car. “Most definitely a Mustang, but she’s more like a dominatrix wearing red leather and holding a bullwhip.”
I laughed with him that time. “Such imagery. Well, your girl could use a good vacuuming.”
While we were stopped at a light, he looked around the car. He shrugged and said, “I guess. I usually wait until there’s an inch of sand.”
My mouth dropped open and then I realized he was kidding me.
“Are you a clean freak?” he asked as he drove up the north ramp to I-95.
“I do like things clean and organized. Are you a messy pers—” I closed my eyes and leaned back against the headrest.
“Are you okay? Should I pull off the next exit?”
“Why don’t you. That way if I have to, you know, you can pull over.”
“Toss your cookies?”
I put the cold water bottle to my head and said, “That’s one way of saying it.”
“Should I come up with some others?”
“Uh, I think I’ll take a pass.”
He reached over and touched my hand. “Should I head toward US1?”
Somehow he had made it through my bubble of self- protection; because I didn’t flinch or feel inclined to swat his hand away. It actually felt kind of nice, as if he projected calming energy. “Yes and make a left on Seventh Street.” I sighed and said, “Thank you for taking me home. Between the alcohol and throwing up I don’t think I could have made it there myself.”
“Yeah and staying at someone else’s house when you ’re feeling sick is the worst. I always want my own bed.”
“And my own clean bathroom.”
“Do you like everything to be line up neatly too?”
“Yes, I don’t feel comfortable with a lot of chaos around me . I don’t see anything wrong with that.”
He fl ashed his crooked smile. “Nothing wrong at all.”
I pointed to the right and said, “You can park in my spot.”
He turned off the engine and came around to my side to help me up. I felt unsteady on my feet. Having consumed two and a half hard apple ciders and no dinner wasn’t helping matters. After I got my keys
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