The Secret 00.5 The Prelude of Ella and Micha (7 page)

Her attention whips back to me. She attempts not to smile, but when I playfully waggle my eyebrows at her and floor the gas pedal again, her laughter bursts through.

“God, what would I do without you?” she says, and my heart ceases in my chest.

“Probably be way less horny,” I tease then laugh when she punches me in the arm.

“I’m never horny for you.” Her cheeks tint red. I have to wonder if sometimes, when I’m sneaking touches, she secretly likes it.

“Whatever you have to say to get yourself through the day.” I release my foot off the brake and peel down the driveway and onto the road.

Then we fly through town with the windows rolled down and a breeze blowing in, heading for the party. We stay there for about forty-five minutes then bail because the cops show up. Ella seems mildly disappointed so I silently vow to make sure she has fun tonight. I drive toward the mountains with music playing from the car speakers. Both of us remain quiet, content.

When we reach the foothills, Ella scoots forward in her seat and spreads her arms out to the side, angling her head back and shutting her eyes. “I wish everything could stay like this forever, just you and me in this car. No parents. No big, scary world. No responsibilities.”

“Things can stay this way.” I glance back and forth between her and the road, mesmerized by the arch of her chest, her relaxed body, her parted lips. “As long as we’re together, we can always have this, no matter where we are.”

Usually, she’d agree with me but, like the last couple of weeks, she stays silent.

“Ella, are you sure you’re okay?” I ask, gripping the steering wheel. “You’ve seemed kind of—I don’t know—different lately.”

She nods but doesn’t say anything. I’d press for more, but I don’t want to sidetrack her from the few moments of freedom she has, so I bite down on my tongue and bottle up my emotions, telling myself everything will be okay.

We have a plan to stay together forever, and as long as we stick to that plan, everything will be fine.

Ella

I’m having way too much fun. I’m having way too much fun, and I feel guilty. I’m having way too much fun, and I feel guilty about it because I bailed out and left my mother home unsupervised. And the air smells like it’s going to rain. It might not seem like much, but every time I have fun and it rains, disaster happens. Like in eleventh grade when I broke my arm snowboarding off the roof. I was having fun and rain was pouring down from the clouds, melting the snow into sleet, making it slippery and causing me to wipe out epically during the landing. Or like when I wrecked my dad’s car racing. Then there was the time Micha and I snuck into the local swimming pool and got caught. All rain, rain, rain.

I just hope tonight isn’t a repeat of history.

I probably wouldn’t be having that much fun, but Micha is … well, Micha. He knows how to get under my skin and work his way into my psyche. When I was about eight, I seriously thought he could read my mind. Sometimes, I still do.

When we finally pull up to The Hitch—a neglected restaurant that’s tucked away near a back road in the middle of the mountains—I know right away that the fun I was having is going to go up to a whole other level, making my guilt soar.

Because we’re racing tonight.

And racing equals adrenaline rush.

And adrenaline rush equals tons of fun in drunken Ella land.

Micha slams on the brakes as we near the other cars parked around the flat, dirt area, skidding to a stop right before we run over a crowd of people. A cloud of dust coughs up around the car as Micha shifts into park.

“Are you feeling better?” he asks as he turns the keys and silences the engine.

The hour drive up here has effectively cleared my head of the clutter usually occupying it. “Yep. Much better.”

“Good, then I’ve done my job.” He unbuckles his seatbelt then turns to get out of the car. But then he pauses and twists back to face me. “I’m really glad you came with me,” he says before he leans over the console to brush his lips across my cheek.

Sober Ella would ream his ass for the move, but drunk Ella kind of likes it. He must not realize I’m that drunk, either, because he quickly hops out of the car before I have a chance to scold him. I hurry after him, reaching for the small bottle of Vodka I stashed in the pocket of my leather jacket as we stride across the gravel and past the parked cars.

Micha eyeballs me as I throw my head back to take a swig. “Where’d you get that?”

“From my house.” I screw the cap back on.

He frowns. “How much are you planning on drinking tonight?”

I shrug, maneuvering around so I’m walking backwards in front of him. “As much as it takes to keep the fun going.” I do a funky little dance move, and he snorts a laugh.

“Fine.” He moves up beside me and drapes an arm around me, navigating me toward a gathered crowd. “But, if I win the race, I’m so joining you.”

“Then who will be DD?”

“Guess we’ll be spending the night in my car again.”

“You know what? That doesn’t bother me.”

He grins, still staring around as we approach the crowd, the headlights of running cars beaming across the darkness around us. I breathe in the comforting scent of him—cologne mixed with mint and something else that only belongs to Micha.

The rustle of voices and excitement in the air instantly pumps up my adrenaline. I must be shaking with excitement or something because Micha whispers in my ear, “Relax, baby. We’ll get to the good part soon.”

I roll my eyes yet can’t brush off the wild, uncontrollable, fluttering feeling inside my body. I try to keep the sensation contained as we near the group, but it becomes too much, and I finally give up and allow myself to get all bouncy.

Micha laughs at me as I dance to the music playing out of one of the speakers. “And there’s my feisty girl. I was worried she wasn’t going to come out tonight.”

When I let out a playful growl while nipping at him, he chokes on a laugh, nearly buckling over.

“Okay, hand over the bottle,” he says, sticking out his hand, still chuckling.

I jut out my lip. “How come?”

“Because you just tried to bite me.”

“So? I heard you like to get bit.”

He skids to a halt in the dirt. “Where did you hear that from?”

I nonchalantly shrug as I stop in front of him. “There’s a rumor going around town that you let Ditzy bite you while you two were messing around.”

His jaw drops. “That’s so not fucking true.”

“So you’re saying you don’t like it?” I’m totally entertained by his uneasiness since he never gets unsettled. Usually, he’s the un-settler.

“No …” He squirms. “I’m not saying that … but I am saying that you’re super drunk right now.”

“Yeah, maybe I am.” I try to see clearly through my drunken mind, but it’s a lost cause, and I quickly give up. “So you have been bit by a girl, then?”

He crosses his arms, appearing tense. “Yeah, by you.”

My lips part in shock. “When did that happen?”

“We were fifteen and wrestling.” He cups his neck. “You bit me right here so I’d let you go. You’re such a dirty, little cheat.”

I wave him off. “That wasn’t a bite. That was a mere teeth nick.”

He stares at me unfathomably as his hand falls to his side. “How the hell did we end up in this conversation?”

“Because I’m drunk, and it’s funny watching you get all squirmy.” Then, just because I can, I spring forward, dip my head, and gently bite his neck. “Ha, ha.” I move back, smiling proudly. “Now I stole your first real neck bite.”

His jaw is practically hanging to the ground. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

I bat my eyelashes. “I’m sorry, did you not want to play?”

“No … that’s not it.” He glances from left to right. When I follow his gaze, I get blindsided by him as he jumps at me. His arms circle my waist, and before I can react, his teeth graze the skin of my throat. “What was that thing you were saying earlier?” He bites at the side of my neck again, and something inside my body explodes. “Payback’s a bitch.” He pulls away, grinning.

And I stand there, breathless and stunned as I cup my neck.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Ella May.” He raises the bottle of vodka he must have stolen from my pocket while he was biting me. “And you can have this back after I win the race.” Then he stuffs the bottle into the back pocket of his jeans and starts for the crowd again, doing his swagger walk.

I chase after him, pouting over the bottle and confused over my tingling body.

“What the fuck took you so long?” Ethan Gregory suddenly shoves his way out of the crowd. He is tall and slightly sturdier than Micha with dark hair and lots of tattoos on his arms, and he adds to that growing collection monthly. “You left the shop like three hours ago.”

“I had stuff to take care of,” Micha replies evasively. He knows that, if he says it has to do with me, Ethan will give me shit. “Besides, I’m here now, so quit getting your panties in a bunch.”

“I’m not.” Ethan crosses his arms and targets a glare at me. “I just know why you’re late because it’s always the same reason.”

“Fuck you, Gregory,” I say, marching toward him.

Micha grabs my hand and pulls me back. “Easy, feisty girl. No fights until after the race.”

“Shut the fuck up, Ella,” Ethan retorts, and Micha scowls at him.

“You’re an ass,” I snap at Ethan.

“And you’re a bitch,” Ethan bites back.

I step forward again with my fists balled at my side, but Micha draws me back by the shoulders

“Okay, you two”—he raises his voice over the bustle of the crowd—“chill the fuck out. I need to focus on racing, not on keeping you two away from each other.”

Ethan and I shoot one last death glare at each other but keep our traps shut. Neither of us wants to distract Micha. Drag racing is intense, and if he’s frazzled or not in the right place, he could end up crashing into a tree or flipping the car over.

“Thank you,” Micha says to both of us before he steers me toward the front of the crowd with his chest pressed against my back.

While I push people out of my way, making a path for us, a few girls scowl at me, but then they notice I’m with Micha and bat their eyelashes at him. When we passed Ditzy, her eyes light up.

“Hey, Micha.” She shoots me a dirty look then waves her hand in the air, pressing her boobs against everyone as she makes her way up to us.

I roll my eyes at her and look up at Micha, who dazzles me with a charming grin.

“What?” he says innocently. “Is something bothering you, pretty girl?”

“No.” I know I should stop there, or I’m going to end up sounding jealous, but like usual, my mouth takes on a life of its own. “It’s just that I don’t get it. How can you sleep with someone like her?” I point over my shoulder at Ditzy, who’s gotten distracted by a guy with a ponytail.

“Who said I slept with her?” he questions, tapping his chin like he’s actually forgotten.

I slap his arm, and he laughs. “You did, last weekend at your party.”

He shakes his head, causing strands of his blond hair to fall into his eyes. The moonlight and the headlights highlight his aqua eyes, making them look hauntingly beautiful. If I could have a day where I could draw whatever the hell I wanted to, I would spend hours drawing his eyes.

“I never said I slept with her. You just implied it the next morning when I snuck into your room, and you told me you didn’t want me in your bed when I still smelled like skank.”

I frown as I remember. “But you never denied that you did.”

He shrugs. “I never said it was true, either.”

Don’t ask it.
“Is it true?”
Damn mouth.

The corners of his mouth threaten to turn upward. “What would you do if I said yes?”

“Nothing.” Deep down, though, I know it would annoy the hell out of me, even when I’m drunk. Maybe even more so in my intoxicated state.

He hesitates, his eyes fastened on me, and the intensity dripping from him is unnerving. “Well, I didn’t. In fact, I didn’t even kiss her.”

I eyeball him over, trying to tell if he’s lying. He rarely lies to me, though, and never about the girls he hooks up with. The fact that he hasn’t slept with Ditzy makes me stupidly feel better.

“You flirted with her, though,” I point out, though it’s a moot point. Flirting doesn’t matter to Micha. He flirts with everyone, even the sixty-year-old check out lady at the grocery store who smells like cat food.

“So what?” He crooks an eyebrow at me. “I’ve already told you time and time again that I’m just passing time until you finally come around. Sometimes, I get bored and need to flirt.”

I fight back a smile. I shouldn’t be glad about this.

Stop it. STOP.

My smile’s breaking through.

“Don’t smile, pretty girl,” he teases as we reach the front of the crowd. “It’ll ruin your
I don’t give a shit
facade.”

“Hey, you promised not to call me that tonight,” I remind him in a lame attempt to sidetrack the conversation.

“I’m not forgetting your jealousy that easy,” he retorts, his lips tugging into a sexy half-grin.

I chew on my thumbnail as I take in the cars parked around us, refusing to focus on him. There’s Danny’s 1971 Dodge Challenger, Mikey’s 1968 Camaro, and Benny’s 1970 GTO, which I’m secretly in love with, though I’ll never admit it to Micha, because it’ll hurt his feelings.

“So, tell me this.” Micha steps up beside me and sketches circles on my upper arm as he stares at the line of cars across from us. “Why does the idea of me sleeping with her bother you so much?”

“Because she’s not good enough for you,” I say truthfully with a shrug. Then I casually reach over and steal the bottle of vodka from his pocket.

He gives me a suspicious sidelong glance. “Who
is
good enough for me? You?” He’s joking, but it triggers a hidden nerve. I think about how I’m about to bail on him and our plans in a month, just leave him in this dump of a town.