My Sweetest Escape (My Favorite Mistake #2)(29)
Author: Chelsea M. Cameron

“Sad?” Someone yelled, and Dusty pulled me to the side as a guy barreled by us yelling about something or other. In addition to lurking and sneaking, he had very good reflexes.

“No, I’m not sad,” I lied.

He tilted his head a little. “You seem sad.”

I looked away from his searing green eyes. “Um, thanks. I barely know you. I don’t really think you’re qualified to make judgments on my level of sad.”

“Okay, fine. Just let me know when you and Hannah are ready to go.” With that he turned around and dived into the fray, heading toward the kitchen and the makeshift bar.

“How are you doing?” Darah had unstuck herself from Mase’s side to come see me.

“Fine. Did you see Renee?”

Darah rolled her eyes.

“She always thinks her tolerance is way higher than it actually is. You’d think she would have learned by now.” Mase came over and put his arm around her.

“What’s up, Jos? Having a good time?” He was clearly a little buzzed. He held out his fist as if he expected me to give him a bump. So I did and he cheered.

“Yeah, great party.” I gave him a thumbs-up. It would be so much better if I wasn’t sober.

Why do you need to drink to have fun? Drinking just dulls your senses. Why would you want to dull the beautiful intensity of life?

An arm snaked around my shoulder and I jumped. “Hey, girlfriend, you abandoned me.”

I turned to find a grumpy Hannah leaning on me. Some of her hair floated into my mouth and I brushed it away.

“Do you wanna go?” I said.

She removed her arm and shrugged.

“I’m cool with whatever.” Her eyes kept skipping around the room, as if she was looking for someone.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” she said, smiling at me. “So I’m guessing some guy is going to drive us home now? Some guy named Dusty?”

Another hand descended on my shoulder, but it wasn’t Hannah’s this time. “You would be correct, Hannah Gillespie.”

“You know, one of these times you’re going to do that and I’m going to think you’re trying to kill me and I might kick you in the junk.”

“My junk would be honored,” he said, removing his hand. I saw that he had my and Hannah’s coats in the other.

“You guys are going home?” Darah said.

“Yeah, I think so. I still have some homework to do.” That was a lie. I had some blogging to do. I’d decided that I was going to get ahead on posts and schedule them ahead of time so I wouldn’t always be behind. It was a great idea, in theory, but I wasn’t sure how it would work in practice.

“See you at home, Little Ne!” Mase called as Darah waved to us. How she was going to handle that monster of a guy was beyond me, but she’d done well so far.

“I’ll tell Taylor and Hunter you went home,” Darah called after us.

“Ladies,” Dusty said, handing us our coats. We put them on as he led us out of the house. His car was parked in an interesting spot, and he ended up maneuvering it out before we could get in.

“You can have shotgun,” Hannah said in my ear.

Awesome.

Hannah and Dusty chatted about random things as he drove to her dorm.

“See you tomorrow, girl. Thanks for the ride, Dusty.”

“Anytime,” he said with that signature wave.

Once Hannah departed, she appeared to have taken all the air out of the car with her. What was wrong with me? I’d been alone with him in the car before. Why was this different?

“So what do you really think about Taylor and Hunter getting married?”

“Why do you care?” I reached out to play with the radio for something to focus on, other than Dusty.

“Here,” he said, reaching across, grazing my boob and opening the glove box and pulling out a battered iPod. He plugged it into the cigarette lighter and changed the radio station before handing me the iPod.

“Skip whatever you don’t like.”

An unfamiliar song came out of the speakers, so I skipped to the next one. Another unfamiliar song. I clicked to his library and scrolled through. Damn, the thing was jammed. He had all sorts of stuff in there. I settled on Beastie Boys, just to watch his face when “Fight for Your Right” came on. I was not disappointed.

“Interesting choice, Red. I approve.” He nodded, and I could see his teeth flashing in the headlights of the oncoming cars.

“What, do I not look like a girl who would listen to the Beastie Boys?”

“No, it’s not that. I just didn’t think you’d choose that.”

We listened to the rest of the song and then I switched it to Death Cab for Cutie. He laughed.

“You are an interesting girl, Red. I’m never bored when I’m with you.”

Ditto.

“You know, if you ever want to talk about anything, I have pretty good listening skills.”

“Are they better than your lurking skills? Because you’re pretty good at that,” I said.

“Lurking?”

“Yeah, you always seem to sneak up behind me, and I never hear you coming.”

“It’s a skill. Honed over years of having to get away quietly.”

“Get away from what?” Let’s see how he liked getting asked personal questions.

“Nice try, Red. Those doors are shut and they’re not going to open. Not even for a cute little thing like you.” He was trying to distract me, but it wasn’t going to work. I’d just let him think that. I had other means of prying into his life.

“Fine, fine.” I scrolled through some more songs. Huh. He had Ingrid Michaelson. That was a surprise. I put on “The Way I Am” and waited for his reaction. He laughed softly, and I could almost hear him blushing.

“If you tell anyone I have Ingrid on here, I will… I don’t know.”

“What, would listening to her ruin your image?” I put air quotes around image.

“I am perfectly confident in my image, thank you very much.” He couldn’t even say it with a straight face, so I started laughing.

“You are so full of shit.”

“Yeah, Red. I am. You shouldn’t believe a word I say.”

“I don’t.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

He tried to stop smiling but he couldn’t and I threw my head back and laughed like I hadn’t in a long time. He pulled up in front of Yellowfield House and turned off the car.