Page 19 of Stardusted
I turned away, too, pretending to study the snaking tire tracks illuminated by the flickering emergency lights.
I couldn’t lie to myself, though. I’d seen something.
The seat squeaked as Sky shifted again. I turned my head just in time to see him nod at my knee.
“By the way, you’re bleeding.”
I was? Pressing my thighs together instinctively under the offensively neon-green dress, I followed his gaze, surprised to find he was right. I must’ve scraped my kneecap open when I’d banged it on the doorframe after the crash. The small cut trickled a thin rivulet of red down my shin. My whole leg was filthy, a mess of drying blood and dirt from the ditch. I’d probably left a Rae-sized smudge on his shiny leather seat.
Embarrassed, I tugged at the hem of my skirt, grimacing. “Sorry. I didn’t notice…”
The apology faded when he leaned over me to open the glove box. The movement brought him close. So close I felt hisbody heat and nearly let it out as another baby chicken squeak. Luckily, Sky didn’t seem to notice.
He pulled out a handful of napkins and a small red box, then shut the compartment again. The back of his forearm brushed the top of my thigh as he withdrew, just a quick, accidental touch, but still enough to send a wave of tingles through me.
He didn’t react.
God, I was really that hard up for attention. An incidental graze, and my stomach felt like a down pillow had exploded in there.
Looking as cool and collected as ever, Sky eased back into his seat and extended the bundle across the center console. The dim light made it hard to read his face, but his voice was calm, perfectly polite. “You can clean it up with that if you want. There should be some antiseptic wipes in there.”
“Oh. Thanks,” I murmured, looking down at what he’d given me.
The little red box turned out to be a mini first-aid kit. Sky Acosta carried a tiny first-aid kit in his glove box. How…responsible of him. Did Oasis’s mysterious bartender often find himself patching up crazy girls on the road? Or was I just special?
I barely managed to stifle my snort and instead focused on setting my things aside. While I busied myself wiping off my knee with the tiny moist towelette, Sky reversed onto the road again, flipping off the emergency lights.
The next song that came on was darker, a heavier beat thrumming through the speakers.
“Where to?” he asked over it.
“Cherry Street.” I balled up the wipe. The gash had stopped bleeding, at least, though I couldn’t do much about the grime. “415 Cherry. The blue house across from Franklin Park.”
He nodded, eyes on the road.
I leaned back into the seat, the leather warm now beneath me thanks to the heater. I hadn’t realized how cold I was before. I could get used to this. Faith was a few decades too old to have butt warmers.
As Sky drove us down the winding country road, back toward the glow of town, I scanned the sky.
Nothing. No multicolored fireballs. No pulsing orbs. No signs ofanythingout of the ordinary. Only stars and moonlight.
Could I really have imagined the whole thing? Maybe Kelly had gotten under my skin more than I’d thought. Maybe the stress of midterms, work, and life had finally broken me.
But I hadn’t imagined the heat of the pavement. My fingertips tingled at the memory of touching it.
“So…class?” Sky asked suddenly.
I jumped, whipping my head his way. “Sorry—what?”
He glanced over with a raised brow. “You said you had class in the morning. And you’d mentioned studying, too. Are you at TWU?”
“Oh.” I fiddled with the edge of my apron. “Yeah, I go to Willow. I’m majoring in anthropology…well, archaeology, eventually.”
“Archaeology, huh?”
I braced for the usual judgment, waving the hand holding the crumpled-up wipe. “I know, I know. It’s hard to find a job. Doesn’t pay well. I’ll have to get a master’s?—”
“I was going to say it’s cool.”
