A Son of Carver (Carver High #2) (13 page)

“Presley?”

“Was there another girl you brought to your race and were acting all weird over in the truck?”

“Weird over?”

“I was stuck sitting next to you the whole time, dumbass. You weren’t treating her the way you treat your other hookups. I mean, outside of the luscious ass comment.”

“She’s not a hookup. She was supposed to be taking pictures.”

“Uh huh, whatever. You were weird with her, that’s all I’m saying. I mean, hell brother, you were…sniffing her. And smiling to yourself like an idiot the whole time she was meowing on your lap.”

I know he’s right. It was like she was the only thing in that truck and I ignored my dad and brother the entire time. And I wasn’t feeding her cheesy lines or trying to cop a feel.

“She’s weird too. I’ve never seen a girl exercise that level of self-control around a Carter man. Girl didn’t even giggle, or rub her hands all over you.”

“Right, asshole. Because it’s not like that.”

“It’s like something. I just can’t figure out what the hell it is.”

Jesus.
Apparently I’m transparent. I can’t handle where this is going, so I finally man up and head over to the group.

She’s made herself comfortable in the circle of car guys. I listen as she asks them questions about the cars and who we race, and where we race, and how it all started. I’m sure she’s got them all wrapped around her finger. There’s nothing these guys like more than talking about cars, especially to someone who knows nothing but apparently wants to understand everything.

“Is Nash the youngest racer?” she asks like I’m not even standing across the loose circle from her.

“He’s definitely the baby,” Jessie, one of the wives says, looking at me with a sweet smile. “Nick, the dumbass, has been letting him race since before he even had a license.”

“Which is the only reason he’s so good,” Kent, her old man, pipes in.

“He’d kick all your asses no matter what. He was taught by the best,” my dad retorts.

“Shut it, old man,” Kent says with affection.

“Wait, so do you guys compete against each other too? I mean, even though you’re a team?”

“Well, yeah,” Dad says, “We have a ranking system within our crew and if you want to move up it, you gotta beat the guy ahead of you.”

She nods, looks back at Kent and asks, “So where do you rank?”

Everyone snickers at that. Kent’s had a rough couple of years with his broke down Thunderbird. He’s been trying to make it back onto the list, but it’s been a while since he’s been there.

“I like her,” Alicia, another one of the wives, tells me, with a jab to my side. “She’s spunky.”

Spunky
would be one way to describe her.

“You assholes aren’t gonna be laughing when T Swift is healthy again.”

“Is that your car?”

“Big bloc, big tire, sixty seven Ford Thunderbird,” he says proudly.

“And you named her after Taylor Swift?” she asks, confused.

Everyone busts out laughing. He gets so much crap about it. He’s had that car since before she was born and I’m pretty sure he still has no idea who the girl that hijacked his car’s name is but either way, he refuses to change it.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. Clearly that’s not what you were going for with the car name. It’s a
T
bird right, and probably a really fast one, obviously since it’s a race car. I’m sure there’s nothing… pretty… or… poppy…or heartbroken about your T Swift. I mean, I’m sure your T Swift is totally badass.” Presley’s mumbling just makes everyone laugh harder. She looks at me, silently begging me to help her out.

“Don’t feel bad. Everyone gives him crap about it,” I tell her.

She shakes her head at herself and keeps her big mouth occupied by drinking her coffee. My dad wraps a comforting hand around her shoulder and she leans into him. Seriously, what the hell is up with the two of them?

Eventually, everyone breaks off into their own conversations. I’m talking to Jay, Bobby and Nate about our plans for Nate’s Nova. The grand I got in my pocket is necessary. We have three race cars and one, if not all of them, is constantly needing basic maintenance or complete overhauls. Nate’s been having trouble just staying in the top five of our crew, much less winning races against out of towners. Hopefully in a couple of weeks all three of us will be competing.

I keep my eye on Presley who’s now sitting on one of the many broke down chairs we have sitting around, surrounded by some of the other ladies. The site irks me a little. I’ve never brought anyone into this circle. This has always been my world where I can relax and just be and not worry about any of the high school drama. Even with Tatum, I didn’t really like brining her around this group.

I think about what Summer said to me about how Presley is my particular brand of sexy and I think she may be right. No one, but me
and maybe my old man
seems to be intimidated by or focused on how beautiful she is. Or maybe it’s just the way that she managed to become one of them so quickly. The guys here respect each other’s old ladies.

“Presley,” my dad calls out, getting everyone’s attention. He waves her over to where he’s standing. He’s got
the
photo album out. Jesus, I’ve never been so irritated with the guy.

Nate laughs, “You better get over there and do some damage control.”

He’s right.

I get to my dad a second after Presley, and she’s already leaned in over the book, oohing and awing. “You’re so cute, Nash,” she says, looking over her shoulder and smiling at me. “But weren’t you scared?” she asks my dad. “Letting him race when he was that young?”

“Scared the hell out of me, but he was a persistent little son of a bitch and back then I always rode shot gun. Eventually I realized it was good for him – if he wasn’t out here with me working on his car so he could race it, he would’ve been getting into trouble with the booze and the women. Figured it wasn’t any more dangerous than his other interests. And, you know, I like him best this time of year. Seems to grow up a little bit and become more tolerable.”

“Jesus, Dad. Way to make me sound like a complete piece of shit. I already have enough trouble convincing her I’m not the devil himself.”

“Jesus, Nash. Way to make me sound like a heartless, judgmental bitch. I’ve been trying all night to convince Nick I’m not an actual witch.”

My dad laughs, a sparkle in his eye, then continues to show Presley every picture in the book. She asks way more questions than necessary and he happily answers them all via his embarrassing stories.

Nate finally rescues me by calling Dad over to the Nova. I close the photo album and Presley looks up at me with a kind of wonder on her face. “I think I have absolutely no idea who you really are,” she tells me.

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure my dad just spent the last half hour walking you through my entire adolescence.”

“I really like him.”

“I think he might like you too.”
Understatement of the year
.

“I like your friends too. They’re like one big family.”

“Again, pretty sure the feeling’s mutual.”

She cocks her head at me. “Why do you sound surprised by that? Some people actually like me, you know.”

“Trust me, Presley… I get it. I’m more surprised by how well you’ve taken to them... to all of this.”

“It’s been a refreshing, much needed, change of pace. Thank you for letting me tag along tonight.”

“Yeah… anytime.”

She gives me a mistrusting glare.

“What?”

“People keep telling me that you don’t bring friends to your races or here with them. Everyone’s acting like they’ll never see me again. So don’t lip service me because I’m not kidding – this was the best night I’ve had since being in Georgia, and I like your family and your friends, and I like being around people who don’t go to our school and know nothing about my home situation or that I’m related to Jolee and if you’re just appeasing me but really have no plans to ever let me be part of the races, or to bring me back here again to hang out with these people, then don’t say
yeah, anytime.
”

I can’t help it, I reach out and grab a hold of her hand. What I really want is to wrap her up in my arms, but what I know I should do is keep my hands off her – so the hand holding is a happy medium. “Most people don’t get this. Most people have never seen me like this. But you seem to get it. You don’t seem to mind that I’m not
on
when I’m in my element. So, yeah Presley… anytime.”

She gives me a bright smile that makes my chest hurt and squeezes my hand. “Thank you.”

“So,” Angel says as soon as Tatum’s attention has turned to Brandon, “what the hell happened to you this weekend?”

“Yeah,” I tell him apprehensively. “Sorry about that. I fell asleep on the way home from the race and then Nash’s dad made me stay there and drink coffee and I started talking to all those car racing people and next thing I know, it’s one am. I texted you after I got home.”

“I know you did. I texted you back and then I didn’t hear from you for the rest of the weekend.”

“I know. I felt like shit on Sunday. I didn’t even check my phone.” And that’s the truth. I wasn’t sick though. I woke up feeling as happy as I ever had; lingering euphoria from the night before.

But as soon as I left my room that all disappeared. My mom was served divorce papers the night before and was suffering a mini-breakdown.

I spent the entire day trying to comfort her, the anxiety growing tighter inside my body with every passing minute.

It’s bad enough having to go through this, but having to do it with my aunt constantly reminding us what an asshole my dad is; what, exactly and very specifically, he did to us; and what he traded us in for – a
girl
who’s not tied down with any kind of responsibilities and can use all of her energy to
pleasure him.
A
girl
who is using him for his money which is rightfully my mom’s and how she’s going to help her
take him for everything he’s got,
just makes it so much more unbearable.

And Jolee, the girl who treats her father with about as much respect as her mother does, is suddenly daddy’s little girl, hanging all over him, just to show me what a good dad looks like and to shove it in my face that I don’t have one anymore.

At eight o’clock my mom and I finally climbed into her bed and cried ourselves to sleep. So yeah, I didn’t call or text Angel and I’m having serious trouble trying to act like I’m here with him now when really, I don’t feel like this is reality in any way, shape of form.

“You do look tired,” he tells me, running a hand up my thigh.

I manage to smile at him, and turn the conversation around. “So how was your party?”

“Same crap as usual, although I didn’t make as much money thanks to Nash’s race. Can you explain to me why the hell anyone would drive an hour and a half out of town to watch a bunch of meatheads drive down a road? I swear to god, this town is so back ass whack as fuck.”

I glance over Angel’s shoulder to the table where Nash is sitting. He’s staring right at me and when he sees me he gives me a sad smile and for some reason, it makes me want to cry. I’m getting attached to him in some weird way and being around him, or apparently just looking at him, makes me feel vulnerable and fills me with some kind of strange yearning. Looking at him makes me want to feel happiness and stability like I used to before my entire world crumbled around me. Could have been that damn car ride. Could have been how safe I felt in his arms.

When I showed up to photography class he immediately knew that something was wrong. I told him it was nothing but he guessed it had something to do with my dad. Which was not good, because I started crying. Thank god it was lecture day and we were watching a film about Dorothea Lange. I spent the hour silently crying, leaned up against him, his hand making lazy circles on my back letting me know he was there but not asking me to talk about it. I don’t know what it is about him that turns me into an emotional wreck. He’s gotta think I’m a psychotic mess. 

I look at Angel, trying to answer his question about the race but not coming up with any words.

“I’m just happy you showed up here,” he carries on with his one sided conversion. “Carver’s more tolerable with you in it. But seriously, that kid’s taking up too much of your time. How many more of these assignments do you gotta get through?”

“It’s the entire semester, Angel.”

“I feel really bad for you,” he tells me with a pout.

“It’s fine.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not fine. You don’t gotta act like it is. Harley told me about the fight you and Nash got into in front of the entire class last week. I know how much you hate the kid.”

I shrug my shoulders. I can’t explain it to myself, much less Angel, but for sure I don’t hate Nash.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, his pierced eyebrows pushed together with concern.

“Yeah, I’m just out of it.” I force a smile and wrap my fingers up with his that are still lingering on my thigh. He pulls me to him and leans in, kissing my jaw and slowly making his way to my lips. It feels nice, he’s such a good kisser. What he does to me blows all of my previous kisses out of the water.

“I have a couple meetings after school, but can you come over for a while after I’m done?” he asks, his lips resting on my ear, making it impossible to say no even though I’m not really in the mood to be with anyone – not even Angel.

“Sure,” I tell him. “I’m working ‘till seven. You can pick me up.”

“Perfect.” He gives me one last kiss before standing up and leaving the cafeteria. I watch him go thinking I have to pull myself together. I’m gonna blow it with him if I can’t even return texts and I don’t particularly want to hang out with him.

“You guys are so damn cute,” Tatum says from across the table where she and Brandon are both smiling at me. “You should have seen him on Saturday night…checking his phone every fifteen minutes for a text from you. Never thought I’d see the day when something was more important to him than his grades and extracurricular activities. You must be doing something right.” She wags her eyebrows at me.

Brandon stands and says, “I’ll let your girls talk,” before heading over to the football player’s table and taking a seat by Nash.

“I don’t know what that would be. I’ve barely talked to him since we decided to give this whole thing a shot.”

“Maybe that’s it. I mean, the fact that you’ve been so unavailable. He was wigging out on Saturday. He was actually worried that something was going on with you and Nash.” She pauses to laugh at the absurdity of her own comment. “Can you imagine that… you and Nash. The kid has lost his damn mind.”

“Yeah, I mean, no. Obviously there would never be anything going on with me and Nash. He couldn’t have actually been worried about that.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t think he was until everyone that was at the race showed up and you weren’t with any of them and hadn’t called either of us to come get you. And then, of course Jolee made a point to tell him you left with Nash. Which he already knew but you know… the bitch made it sound like it meant something.”

“His dad made me do that. Which was totally uncomfortable. Pretty sure he wanted Summer to leave with him and I would have voluntarily gotten in a car with Jolee just to get a ride to Angel’s.”

“I told him it couldn’t have been your choice. Anyway, don’t worry about it. Angel knows you’re smart enough to see through Nash’s crap. And, by the way, no one seems to want to listen to me, but Summer is too. There’s nothing going on between the two of them.”

“Maybe not, but they’re close. Have you not noticed how excited they get when they see each other?”

“Yeah, I have. I think Summer’s just going through some kind of rebellion and Nash is her partner in crime. I’m sure he gets a kick out of corrupting her and he’s probably the only person she’s comfortable being bad around because she doesn’t really care what he thinks of her. Plus, I mean, he is fun. Most of the time.”

I think Tatum is seriously discrediting the depth of their relationship but I don’t have energy to waste thinking about trivial crap. “We should get out of here,” I tell her, glancing at the clock and standing with my tray full of food that I haven’t touched.

We dump our food and then walk to where Brandon is waiting for her, talking to Nash. He wraps his arm around her and they leave the cafeteria. Nash and I silently follow them. His hand brushes against mine and it sends a warm sensation up my arm. I look at him and he’s giving me the same sad smile he gave me in the cafeteria.

“I’m fine,” I whisper.

“You’re not,” he whispers back. “But you’re gonna be okay.”

I can feel the overload of emotions creeping back in, so I turn my eyes from his, pinching them closed to hold back my tears. “I’ll talk to you later,” I manage to mutter before taking a sharp right and disappearing into the bathroom.

In the stall I let myself cry. I feel like my life is falling apart, like I don’t even know who I am or who I’m supposed to be any more. Everything that I knew, even just a few days ago, I’m now completely unsure of. More than anything, I just want to be alone. I want to disappear until I get my head back on straight.

What’s messing with my head more than anything is why Nash… his words, his presence, his touch…is the only thing that’s currently able to make me feel unbroken.

Angel shows up before my shift is over which I hate because I’m dressed in a tight-ass referee’s uniform and still in Bambi mode – which is the happy, eager-to-serve character I pretend to be just to get through these shifts- and I don’t want him to see me this way. It makes me self-conscious and I feel like a total bimbo and I’m sure it makes him question what the hell he’s doing with me.

When I see him, I wave, then hightail it to the back and beg Tatum to clear my tables for me. “I don’t know why you’re worried about him seeing you dressed like this. Like it’s gonna do anything but give him a big boner.”

“You’re so gross,” I tell her.

“God, you’re right. Angel with a boner…” she shivers but agrees to take over for me.

As I change back into my regular clothes I consider that the whole boner thing is probably part of the reason I don’t want him seeing me like this. I want to be with him tonight, but considering the way I reacted last time he touched me, I’m nervous that I’m gonna freak out again.

I pull out my phone and call my mom. When I talked to her after school, she was doing better. I told her she should come up here and have dinner, that she could use a couple of hours away from her sister, but she said that would require getting out of her pajamas which she didn’t want to do.

“Hey baby,” she says, sounding exasperated.

“Hey, mom. How are you?” I ask her.

She doesn’t answer, just throws the question back at me. “How are you?”

I roll my eyes. How does she think I am?

“You just rolled your eyes, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“Yes you did. Because it was silly of me to ask you how you are.”

“Okay, I get your point – you’re fine, which actually means you’re sad as hell and about to pull your hair out because LeeAnn has been up your ass all day.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m done with work. Do you want me to come home?” I ask, half hoping she says yes so that there is no chance I’ll deter Angel with my crappy attitude and breast phobia.

“Of course not. You should take every opportunity you can to get out of this house. I’m gonna tell LeeAnn I’m going to bed, steal a bottle of her wine and watch Netflix. I don’t even want you here.”

I smile. She’s totally bullshitting me but at least she still has her sense of humor. “Well good, because I don’t want to hang out with you either.”

She laughs. “Have fun with Angel and come say goodnight to me when you get home.”

“Okay. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, baby,” she says before hanging up.

I try to put her and my dad out of my mind as I head out to Angel. He and Tatum are at the bar chatting and his face lights up when he sees me. I smile back at him, telling myself I should be excited to be with him. If it weren’t for all the bullshit my dad’s putting us through, I would be.

“You ready?” he asks when I get to him.

“Yep,” I say, waving bye to Tatum and following him out the door.

We get into his Odyssey, which is not the coolest vehicle ever, but works when he has to tote his synth boards and instruments around.

“You seem like you’re in a better mood,” he says, taking his eyes off the road to smile at me.

“For sure. Traipsing around in tight spandex for four hours always lifts my spirits.”

He laughs. “If you hate it so much, why do you do it?”