Page 83 of Redemption
The woman couldn’t make up her mind to save her life.
We are in the truck on our way back and pretending that earlier didn’t happen. After Theo left and I dropped my little truth bomb on her, we went back to shopping, and she shoved me squarely back into the friend zone.
I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t sting.
Now she’s pressed against my side, just like on the way here, and her voice floats through the air, singing along to whatever song comes on the radio.
I have one hand on the steering wheel, and the other is slung across the back of the seat, gleaning any closeness I can gain with the excuse of the confines of my truck.
One song ends, and another begins when MJ leans forward, turning the knob and shutting off the music. She turns her body toward me, lifting her legs and tucking them beneath her so that her knees rest on my upper thighs.
It’s a dangerous move because I’m entranced with the smoothness of her skin and the way her tan looks darker against the light denim shorts she’s wearing.
MJ clears her throat, and I realize I’ve been staring, so I flick my eyes back to the road, still taking short glimpses out of the corner of my eye.
There’s a smile playing on MJ’s lips. She knows exactly what she’s doing. With the hand lying across the back of the seat, I reach forward and pinch her shoulder. Laughing, she shoves it away.
“I was thinking,” she says.
“That’s dangerous.”
She flicks my earlobe, and I grab it, pretending it hurts.
“Shush and listen to me.” I press my lips together, and she continues, “If we’re going to be friends, I think I should get to know where you live since you know where I’m going to live.”
I nearly choke on my tongue. This was not what I expected. I’m not trying to hide where I live, but—I don’t think she’ll be happy when she finds out, and not just because it’s close to her either.
“Uh—don’t you need to get back and pack?”
“Nope. I’ve already done it.”
“Oh—” It’s not much of a response, but I don’t know what else to say. Our friendship is new—breakable. If I show her my home, will the pieces that we’ve managed to put back together shatter?
She dips her head, heat creeping up her neck. “I mean, if you don’t want to show me, that’s fine. I just thought—”
Her legs start to pull away from mine as she scoots to the other side of the truck, but I lay my hand on her thigh, stopping her. Her tanned skin is a contrast to the callouses on my hand.
Smooth and rough.
Sweet and grumpy.
It’s the distinction between us that has me coming back for more over and over again.
Her eyes linger on where my hand rests on her legs.
“Don’t pull away.”
“I’m not.” The words are whispered—scared.
“Yes, you are. That’s what you do. You pull away when you’re scared of putting yourself out there. But I’m right here, MJ. I’ve wanted you to see my house since the day I bought it. But—I need you to promise this won’t change anything. I don’t want to go back to a time when I don’t have you in my life. You might drive me crazy, but I must be glutton for punishment because I love every minute of it.”
She lifts her head to meet my stare, searching for the lie. I keep my eyes on the road but turn my head so she can see my face.
“Do you really think we can do this? Be real friends?”
I shrug. “We both feel guilty for Langston’s death—we might as well face it together. As long as you don’t black my eye again, I don’t see why we can’t.”
Rolling her eyes, she smacks my chest. I won’t tell her how much she looks like her mom when she does that. She might smack me harder, so I smile and enjoy the ride to my house, hoping she understands when she gets there.
