Page 31 of Thunderstruck
He doesn’t say anything to me until we’re halfway to my neighborhood and he says my name, pulling my attention away from my phone, which has only marginally distracted me from my thoughts. “You could, you know,” he says.
I furrow my brow. “I could what?” He and Carissa have been silent up front, leaving me to read through comments on theHot Scooparticle that posted this morning to make sure no one has figured out who Carissa is. There is plenty of speculation, but no mention of her name.
Moxie chuckles. “Make a habit of getting a ride. Take advantage of our unusually charitable teammates who will be in proximity to your house every day.” He winks at Carissa.
She blushes, and the embarrassment is endearing. Not that she needs to endear anyone to her, especially not me. It seems Moxie is well on his way to earning her affection as it is, and I’d rather not get in the middle of that if I can help it. “I really don’t need everyone to go out of their way for me,” she says, glancing between us. “I plan to take the bus as much as I can.”
I match Moxie’s wrinkled nose at the thought of someone like her taking a bus everywhere. “Those buses are disgusting.”
“And you shouldn’t wait at bus stops by yourself,” he says.
“The area is decent,” I add, “but not necessarily safe.”
“Plus, the—”
“Easy, boys,” Carissa says, holding up a hand and shutting us up. Her grin is wide and warm, and just like the first day I met her, that smile brightens the whole car around her. “I grew up in Philly. I may be small, but I’m a tough girl. I can handle myself.”
Moxie meets my gaze in the rear view mirror, his concern obvious. She could be tough as nails, but that still wouldn’t lessen either of our worries. Even if shecantake care of herself, she shouldn’t have to.
I groan as years of lectures from my dad and Gramps flash through my head. If they caught wind of me letting Carissa fend for herself, I’d never hear the end of it. I can fix this, but I don’t know if she’ll let me. I’ll have to try.
“I have an idea. Drop us off at my place?” I say to Moxie, hoping he understands my implied meaning. He may not know my plan, but I want him to know my intentions are good.
Though he narrows his eyes for a moment, probably questioning my reasoning, he nods after a second and takes the turn into my neighborhood. When he pulls up in front of my house, Carissa doesn’t move, which I expected, though I know she heard me say ‘us’ because she flinched.
Moxie must like me if he’s willing to stick around once I’m out of the car. He could easily drive off and take Carissa to her house, but he doesn’t.
I knock on the passenger window and press my lips together when Carissa only rolls it down a few inches. She has every reason to be short with me, and I don’t know if she’ll go for my idea, but I want to try to kill two birds with one stone. Make up for the gruffness I showed her this morning and give her a way to avoid the bus.
“You don’t have to trust me,” I tell her through the space in the open window. “But do you trust Moxie?”
She looks at him. I can’t see her expression, but his smile is warm and friendly. Too friendly, maybe. When she turns back to me, there’s enough curiosity in her eyes to know I’ve taken a step in the right direction.
“I want to help you,” I tell her. “But to do that, I need you to get out of the car. I promise I’ll get you home safely.”
After one more glance at Moxie, who says something too soft for me to hear, Carissa pushes the door open so quickly that I have to jump out of the way. “I don’t like this,” she says as she tucks her purse over her shoulder. “Mostly because I can’t decide if I should likeyou.”
That gets a smile out of me, however brief. “It’s probably better if you don’t like me,” I mumble. I salute Moxie, who gives me a warning look before driving off. Honestly, I half expected him to hang around, just in case, and his trust in me soothes a small part of my aching soul. If such an excellent judge of character can see good in me, maybe I’m not all bad.
“Come inside for a sec,” I say, gesturing toward my front door.
Carissa scratches her chin as her eyes dart between me and the house. “Nothing weird or bad is going to happen to me, right?”
I roll my eyes. “I wouldn’t tell you if it were. But no.”
Apparently that’s enough to get her to trust me, and she leads the way up the stepping stone pathway to the porch.
I hope I’m doing the right thing.
Chapter Ten
Carissa
I don’t know whyCole wanted me to come with him, but I’m leaning into Moxie’s insistence that he can only have good intentions. Then again, there’s that saying about the road to Hell being paved with good intentions, and Darcy has always told me I am too trusting. Am I about to be murdered by a surly rugby player who may or may not be cursed?
What kind of curse are we talking about anyway? I’ve been desperate to ask more about that little bit of conversation I accidentally overheard, but Cole clearly didn’t want to talk about it.
It feels like the kind of thing heshouldtalk about, but so far Cole hasn’t been much of a talker. He’s certainly not talking now as he unlocks his front door and steps inside the house, sliding his shoes off onto a mat in the entryway. He moves to the side to give me space to follow him in, and I stop dead.
