Page 21 of Car Wash
Like the way you ruined my body last night. I’m still feeling the after-effects.
But he doesn’t say anything like that. Instead, there’s a tenderness in his voice that makes me want to melt right into the pavement.
His car gleams in the sun, every inch of it sparkling from yesterday’s wash.
“Your car looks fantastic, by the way,” I say as I walk toward him with a spring in my step.
“And you look fantastic in it,” he rasps as he opens the passenger door, his voice deep and tinged with a commanding, authoritative bend. “Now get in. We’re going for a ride.”
We’re on the road within minutes, wind in my hair, the breeze catching the hem of my dress. I hold my hat in place with one hand and glance at him from the corner of my eye.
“Where are we going?”
He just smiles. “You’ll see.”
Familiar buildings whip past the windows until I realize we’re back near campus. For a second, my stomach flips.
But when we turn the corner and the sorority house comes into view, my jaw drops.
“Oh my god.”
Lacy is standing on the front lawn in paint-smeared overalls and a neon yellow construction helmet, arms crossed proudly as she watches a guy unload brand-new bookcases from the back of a truck. There are planters being filled with flowers, string lights going up on the porch, and someone on a ladder painting the shutters a moody, velvety green.
I step out of the car, stunned. The ugly plastic patio furniture is gone. The overgrown bushes have been trimmed into neat little hedges. There’s even a tray of iced lemon water on a table near a porch swing.
We have a porch swing??
John steps out of the car and joins me on the front lawn.
“What do you think?”
“How is this even possible?” All we expected from the car wash was new silverware and throw-pillows money, not renovate-an-old-house money.
“It’s all thanks to a very generous benefactor,” Lacy says as she saunters over, raising an eyebrow at John.
He doesn’t look at her. Instead, he looks at me and wraps his arm around my shoulders.
“You did this?” I turn to John.
“You deserved something better.”
My throat tightens. I throw my arms around him, and he catches me instantly, pulling me close against his chest like he never wants to let go.
“How am I supposed to thank you for this?” I whisper.
“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” he says, voice low in my ear.
“By the way,” Lacy says, “we’re going to be crashing at the Gamma house for the next few days while they finish up the floors in here.”
“Oh really?” I say, giving John a playful side-eye.
“You’re coming with me.” He raises the car keys between us, hits the fob, and smiles when the engine purrs. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Epilogue
Sarah — Three Months Later
The sun is beamingdown in the most oppressive way possible. It's in my eyes even with my hat and sunglasses on; it's making sweat trickle from every pore on my body. Even places where there are no sweat glands. I'm sweating from my eyeballs and from the spaces between my toes and from my fingernails and earlobes.
