Page 130 of We Shouldn't Be Together
We walk over to Freddy’s car and I take the seat behind Drew, and Tabby sits in the front passenger seat. When the car pulls onto the road, I cross my fingers that this doesn’t turn into an interrogation.
“So, I caught the hand holding,” Drew comments, and I want to bury myself alive. “How long has the cutesy stuff been going on?”
Tabby cups her hand over her mouth, too bashful to answer.
Drew watches me in the rearview mirror. “Well?”
I shrug. “Today?”
He doesn’t buy it. “Just today?”
“Well, the texting’s been a week,” I add, as my stomach spasms with distress. Does he know I carried her home? I really don’t want to admit to this guy that his little sister was in my arms. I’d like to keep my head attached to my neck.
“Uh-huh,” he drawls, still fixed to the rearview mirror.
Tabby huffs, lowering her hand. “Watch the road, Drew. Or is your goal to have Dad find out you’re driving?”
“I’m not gonna have an accident.”
She points at the road ahead. “Prove it then.”
“Dang, you’re so touchy,” Drew teases.
I lean forward. “So why’d your old man ban you from driving?”
Tabby sucks in a breath, like she wishes I hadn’t asked that. When Drew’s shoulders broaden and flex, I kinda wish I hadn’t either.
Through the mirror, I notice Drew’s jaw rock and then the hint of a wry smile. “Might’ve had something to do with damaging Jeff Anderson’s car.”
Tabby turns to me, nodding, when I need confirmation on the connection. “Yep. Yvie’s brother. He and Drew hate each other.”
“Isn’t that awkward?” I ask. “When you and Yvette are friends?”
Tabby nudges her shoulder toward Drew. “You try telling him that.”
Drew shrugs. “Like it matters anyway. Jeff’s parents brought him a new truck.”
“Hardly the point,” Tabby mutters.
I lean forward, having to know. “What did you do?”
“It wasn’t my fault the paint splattered across the hood or that there were all those scratch marks across the side,” Drew says, shifting his seat.
Tabby rolls her eyes, asking me, “Ever hear the crowbar rumor about him?”
“That’s where it started?”
“Pfft.“ Drew brushes it off. “That rumor is Yvette’s handiwork. I don’t do crowbars.”
“It’s not like you don’t carry around other things you can use as weapons,” Tabby argues with him.
Drew claps his hand shut in front of her. “Zip it.”
Yay. This isn’t awkward at all.
Drew stops the car outside my house, and I linger. There’s a stirring in my belly, wanting to ask Tabitha to come inside. But then I catch Drew’s hardened stare. My mom would freak if he walked inside. I don’t want her judging Tabitha based on this guy’s rotten first impression.
“I’ll text you, Tabby.”
