Page 18 of Plot Twist
“Would you prefer a ride? We could talk about my dad and the speech on the way? I need to take my girl for a drive anyway.” He realized how that might sound and pointed to his car. “My car, I mean.”
“It’s kinda far.” She crossed her arms and studied him. He worked hard to keep his gaze above her neck.
“Hour and a half, tops.” Dash didn’t know why he was pushing this so much. He hated asking for her help, and really, he could call her and have this conversation on her bus ride to Ojai. But something about being near her made him want more time.
He was just lonely. After all, even Chris had called him out for being antisocial. So maybe Sophie scratched some deep itch he had to be around another person or something. He wasn’t totally sure, but he kept going. “If you want to work on this with me, we have to do it quickly. A drive is the perfect way for me to tell you about my dad, and then you can help translate that onto the page.”
He waited for her to respond, knowing that there was a strong possibility she wouldn’t want to be trapped in a car with him. But he hoped she would agree to this, and the fact that he was hopeful about something was...new.
“Okay.” A smile crossed her lips. “Let’s do it.”
7
SOPHIE
When Sophie stepped out of her house it was just after ten, but the sun was already blasting down warm and bright rays. She had to hold a hand above her eyes to see Dash by his car.
And, well, a few things came to mind as she gazed at him.
First, there was something quite surreal about the fact that she was taking a day trip with Dash—someone who, only a week ago, she’d spoken all of a dozen words to. Second, that she definitely did not want to spill her matcha tea on those cream seats. She took a massive gulp, then another, and finished the drink off. And third, Dash was attractive. Especially as he leaned back against the car in his dark blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal glimpses of the tattoos that wrapped around his forearms. There was a workman’s jacket slung over his shoulder and he wore faded jeans and aviator sunglasses that made him look like a classic Hollywood movie star.
And maybe it was okay to objectively know that he was sexy, right? He was, after all, an actor, or had been, or whatever, and it was his actual job to look good. So what if Sophie happened to notice his confident stance as he leaned back against the car? Or the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed? Or how he lowered his sunglasses and smiled a genuine, warm look, just for her?
All those things would’ve been okay, she thought, except that the smile he’d given her had, in turn, caused a swarm of nerves to erupt. Yes, a swirling, unexpected, jittery sensation in her stomach that was either butterflies or a result of chugging her matcha within the span of a minute.
Either way, neither of those options were great. Butterflies were reserved for people she had crushes on, not a person named Dash who was her best friend’s brother and had enlisted her to do a job. Though, if she was being honest, she’d worn a dress that cinched at the waist specifically because she knew it made her ass look amazing. And hadn’t she known she’d done thatforDash?
“You have a lot of stuff,” Dash noted.
She frowned. Did she? Yes, she’d brought a bag for snacks, a purse with her phone (plus credit cards, gloss, sunscreen, and toner), and a backpack with her laptop, notebook, pens, and planner—but those were just the essentials.
“Well, I had to bring snacks.” She unzipped the snack bag and opened it wide for Dash to see.
He peered in and pulled one from the top. “Air-dried pineapple?”
“So good,” she said. Just the thought of those crispy little wedges made her lips twitch. She wiped at the corner of her mouth, searching for any rogue drool.
He pulled out another option. “Cauliflower cheddar puffs?” He took off his sunglasses completely. “Sophie, did Poppy do this to you? Her gluten-free, sometimes-raw ways have robbed you of all your taste buds.”
She jutted out her hip and placed a defiant fist on it. “Why, what would you rather have?”
“Snacks—proper, made-of-chemicals, probably-will-take-years-off-your-life snacks.” He leaned into his car, popped open the glove box, and pulled out a bag of sour gummy worms. He ripped the plastic open and deftly popped one in his mouth. He moaned as he chewed.
Then, as if remembering she was there, he broke the lustful, sugar-induced moment and held the bag out to her.
“I’m not really a sour person,” she said. Though, she had to admit it was kind of cute to see him so excited about neon-colored candy.
“Suit yourself.” He grabbed a handful of gummies and popped two into his mouth.
Feeling the need to prove how great her own snacks were, she tore open a bag of dried chickpeas and ate a handful. Then she tucked the snack, her purse, and backpack on the floor where her feet would be. She sat in the passenger seat and buckled herself in. He slid the sunglasses back onto his face as he walked around to the driver’s-side door. Dash started the engine, and it purred through her entire body. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, and she watched his bicep flex underneath his shirt. Not that she was staring or anything.
They pulled out of the driveway. The caffeine from the matcha was starting to kick in and caused her leg to bounce in the seat as she asked, “Can you tell me about your dad? I know what Poppy’s idea of him is, but what comes to mind when you think of him?”
Dash’s hand moved on the steering wheel, rubbing the leather against his palm. “I’m not really used to talking about him.” There was an edge to his voice she couldn’t quite place.
She’d need Dash to feel comfortable if she was going to help him with the speech, so she offered, “I’m not used to talking about my dad either. He wasn’t in the picture. All I know is he moved to Florida when I was a baby and apparently started a new life and family there. The only time I ever heard from him was when Nina got on a cooking show and he magically popped up, suddenly wanting to be in our lives. But neither of us were interested in getting to know him, especially considering the timing.”
Then she stopped talking and waited to see if Dash would respond. Or, if she’d once again just been word-vomiting, as she often did. But then, to her delight, he spoke.
