This Girl (Slammed #3)(8)

“I’d have to say we were both in crush after that trip.”

crush

I ATTEMPT TO go over my lesson plans for the next week but I can’t even concentrate. I try to pinpoint exactly what it is about her that completely consumes my mind, but I can’t figure it out. After the incident with the bandage this morning, she was all that went through my head at work. I wish she would just do or say something stupid so this hold she has on me would break. It’s weird.

I’ve never been so consumed by the thought of someone in my entire life. This is the last thing I need right now, but somehow it’s the only thing I want.

Caulder bursts through the front door, laughing. He slips his shoes off and walks across the living room shaking his head. “That Darth Vader girl asked me how to get to the grocery store,” he says. “I don’t know how to drive. She’s so dumb.” He walks to the refrigerator and opens it.

I stand up. “Is she still out there?” I rush to the front door and see her Jeep parked in the street. I quickly pull my shoes on, then run outside before she drives away. I’m relieved when I see her fiddling with the GPS. It’ll buy me some time.

I wonder if she would care if I went with her to the store.

Of course she would. That would be awkward.

“That’s not a good idea,” I say as I approach her car, then lean through the window.

She glances up at me, a smile hiding in the corners of her mouth. “What’s not a good idea?” She begins to insert the GPS into its holder.

Shit. What’s not a good idea? I didn’t think this through. I say the first lie that pops into my head. “There’s quite a bit of construction going on right now. That thing will get you lost.”

Just as she opens her mouth to respond, a car pulls up beside her and a woman leans over the seat and speaks to Layken through the window. This has got to be her mother; they’re practically identical. Same accent and everything.

I continue to lean through the window, using her distraction as an opportunity to study her. Her hair is a deep brown, but not as dark as her mother’s. Her nail polish is chipped. It looks like she picks at it, which somehow makes me like her even more. Vaughn never left the house unless her hair and nails were perfect.

Kel jumps out of the other car and invites Caulder, who is now standing next to me, over. Caulder asks if he can go, so I grab the handle of Layken’s car door without worrying about possible consequences. The hell with it.

“Sure,” I reply to him. “I’ll be back in a little while, Caulder. I’m riding with Layken to the store.” I open her door and climb inside without second-guessing my actions. She shoots me a look, but it seems more like an amused one than an irritated one. I take this as another good sign. “I don’t give very good verbal directions. Mind if I go with you?”

She laughs and puts the car into gear, glancing at the seat belt I’ve already fastened. “I guess not.”

The closest grocery store is only two blocks away. That’s not nearly enough time with her, so I decide to take her the long way. It’ll give me more of a chance to get to know her.

“So, Caulder is your little brother’s name?” she asks as she turns off our street. I like how she says Caulder’s name, drawing out the Caul a little bit more than necessary.

“One and only. My parents tried to have another baby for years. They eventually had Caulder, when names like Will weren’t that cool anymore.”

“I like your name,” she says. She smiles at me and her cheeks redden, then she quickly darts her eyes back to the road.

Her embarrassment makes me laugh. Was that a compliment? Did she just flirt with me? God, I hope so.

I instruct her to turn left. She flips the blinker on, then brings her hand up to her hair, running her fingers through it all the way down to the ends; an action that causes me to gulp. When both of her hands are on the steering wheel again, I reach over and brush her hair behind her shoulders, then pull back the collar of her shirt.

I look at her bandage, wanting her to believe this is the reason I’m touching her, when really I just needed to feel her hair. When my fingers graze her skin, she flinches. It seems like I make her nervous. I’m hoping it’s in a good way. “You’re going to need a new bandage soon,” I say. I pull her shirt back up and pat it.

“Remind me to grab some at the store,” she says. She grips the steering wheel tightly and keeps her eyes focused on the road. She’s probably not used to driving in the snow. I should have offered to drive.

The next few moments are quiet. I catch myself staring at her, deep in thought. I wonder how old she is. She doesn’t look older than me, but it would suck if she is. Sometimes girls don’t date guys that are younger than them. I should really find out more about her.

“So, Layken,” I say casually. I place my hand on her headrest and glance behind me at all the boxes still in the back of the Jeep. “Tell me about yourself.”

She cocks an eyebrow at me, then turns her attention back to the road. “Um, no. That’s so cliché.”

Her unexpected response makes me laugh under my breath. She’s feisty. I like that, but it still doesn’t answer any of my questions. I glance to her CD player and lean forward. “Fine. I’ll figure you out myself,” I say as I hit eject. “You know, you can tell a lot about a person by their taste in music.” I pull the CD out of the player and hold my breath as I prepare to read it. Please don’t let her be into Nickelback. I would have to jump out of the car. When I read the handwritten label, I laugh. “Layken’s shit? Is shit descriptive here, or possessive?”