Wreck Me (Nova #4)(72)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

A few seconds later, I hear the boom of a radio. I glance down the street to see a bright red Chevy Nova driving up the road. It’s a rare enough car that I know who it belongs to. It pulls into my driveway and parks in front of the garage next to my Jeep. The music is cranked up, and Nova is belting out lyrics at the top of her lungs as she flails her arms around. From the passenger seat, Quinton is laughing at her. I can’t see into the backseat, so I have no idea if Tristan is in there.

Just chill out. Everything will be okay. It’s probably better if he doesn’t show up.

The music silences and then Nova gets out of the car, enthusiastically waving. “Hey!” She raises a plastic bag that she’s holding. “We brought snacks.”

“Awesome.” I point over my shoulder at the house as I drop the cigarette in a flowerpot near the garage. “You can take them inside, but I have to warn you that my brother is cooking, and he’s super weird about people being in the kitchen with him.”

Nova nods as she rounds the back of the Jeep and Quinton hurries up to her and takes her hand. I’m about to head in the house because it doesn’t look like anyone else is getting out of the car, but mid-turn Tristan emerges from the passenger side. The sight of him makes me acutely aware that not only am I a liar to other people, but I lie to myself all the time. Because it is better that he showed up, no matter what I’ve been telling myself.

I want him here.

With me.

Want to let him in.

Inside the walls of my house.

Of me.

His gaze drifts across the lines of my home before his eyes automatically find me and trace the curves of my body. Then that lopsided grin forms as he makes his way up the sidewalk toward me.

“Hey.” He’s holding something in his hand, still wearing the same black T-shirt he had on at the store, but the over shirt is gone. Faded jeans ride low on his hips and a collection of leather bands is on his wrist. Even with the dark and punkish attire, his bright blue eyes, and blond hair scream sexy, pretty boy charmer.

“Hey.” I wave at him, hyperaware that Nova and Quinton have scurried into the house and left us alone outside.

“So…” He stops in front of me then stuffs his hand into his pocket, seeming uncomfortable.

“So…” I say, equally as uncomfortable.

We trade a look, then we both sputter into laughter at the awkwardness.

“Wow, I think this is one of the most awkward greetings we’ve had.” He scratches the back of his neck, glancing over at a little yapping dog in Mrs. Felish’s yard.

“Sorry,” I tell him, uncertain what I’m even apologizing for.

Apparently he’s confused by the apology too, because when his blue eyes return to me, his forehead is creased with puzzlement. “Sorry for what?”

“For… not saying anything about Jax and Mason.”

“No, it’s okay.” He frees a breath as he lowers his arm to his side. “I get why you didn’t tell me.”

My brows shoot up. “You do? Really?”

He hesitantly nods. “Yeah, thanks to a very long explanation from Quinton, of all people.”

“Really?” I ask incredulously. “Quinton explained it to you?”

“I guess his aunt’s a single mom,” he explains, seeming stiff and tense. “And is super protective of letting people in.”

“That’s not really what I meant. I was just shocked Quinton talked to you because I’m pretty sure all I’ve ever heard him say is hi—he’s so quiet.”

“Yeah, but get a few Red Bulls in him, and he’ll talk your head off like a school girl.”

I giggle and somehow the noise breaks the tension and Tristan’s shoulders loosen.

“I feel like you’re telling all his secrets to me,” I say, coiling a strand of my hair around my finger.

“I kind of am.” He chuckles, but then shakes his head. “Enough about Quinton. This day is about you.” He extends his arm and unfolds his fingers around an object. “Happy birthday, Avery.”

I stare down at the candy necklace in his palm, oddly touched by the small gesture. “It’s the prettiest necklace I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t know about that, but it is made of sugar, and we both know how much you like that. I still can’t believe you ate that entire box of cupcakes in a day and still look like you do.” His gaze flows over the curve of my hips, lines of my waist, and the swells of my breasts, causing my body temperature to jolt up a notch.

“Hey, you ate some of my cupcakes, too,” I say and when he grins, I realize just how dirty it sounded. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.” With his free hand, he reaches toward me and moves my fingers away from my hair, making a jolt of heat blaze through my body. I swallow hard as he drops the candy necklace into the palm of my hand. Then he casually drapes an arm around my shoulder and pulls me against him. “But if you ever want me to eat your cupcakes, you can just say so. I’m totally down for it.”

“You are such a dork.” I sweep my hair to the side, slip the candy necklace over my head, and then we start up the stairs for the screen door.

I pause before we enter the house when I spot Mason inside, skipping around in the kitchen. “Hey, so I just want to make sure that you’re okay with all of this.” I gesture at the door. “Because, if you’re not, I totally get it. I just need you to one hundred percent decide before we go in.”

“I’m okay with it,” he assures me with barely any hesitancy, which makes me question if he really thought about this and what it means.

“Are you sure?” I check again. “Because you seemed a little weird at the store, and I don’t want you to feel at all pressured or uncertain. We can just keep our friendship to strictly work, like we originally planned.”

“No, you originally planned that. I was trying to rack up enough brownie points so I could hang out with you like this,” he throws out there bluntly. “And I was quiet at the store because you shocked the shit out of me. I had no idea… and I thought… Well, I don’t know what I thought.”

“But what do you think now?” I ask, anxiously chewing on the candy necklace. “Because it’s really important. Not for me, but for…” I point over my shoulder through the screen where I know he can see Mason.

He stares at the screen, a small smile touching his lips when Mason belts out a few inappropriate lyrics to a song he shouldn’t know.