Курок Дуглас Пенелопа

And he laughed, and it was the first time I’d heard his voice. Deep and smooth and very much humored at my expense. “Tonight. Sure.”

My expression fell, and I hesitated only a moment before I pulled out of his grasp and inched my way over to the closet, feeling for one of my hoodies that was bound to be in there.

Finding one, I pulled it out and slipped it on, digging out a pair of sneakers, too. I wanted my phone. I should bring it.

I turned back toward the stairs, but then stopped, remembering the GPS on it my parents used to track me with an app.

If my mom woke up or my dad came home, would I want them to be able to find me with a boy whose name I didn’t even know, doing something I shouldn’t be doing, and use it as an excuse to send me away again?

But then again, if I needed them to find me, I was going to be damn glad I had the phone, wasn’t I?

Decisions, decisions.

Screw it.

I inhaled a breath, turned around, and reached for his hand.

He took it and opened the door.

 

 

“Why don’t you use a stick?” he asked, leading me down the driveway. “Or a guide dog or something?”

Believe me, I’d love to. It would allow me a little more freedom.

“If I need to go anywhere, someone helps me,” I told him. “My parents don’t like me to draw attention to myself.”

They thought people would stare at me. I wasn’t the only visually impaired person in town, but I was pretty sure I was the only full-on blind one, and I knew their fears without even asking. And they were right. It made people uncomfortable. I’d been through enough awkward conversations to know when someone just wanted to be away from me, because they didn’t know how to act around me.

The part they were wrong about was that they thought the world was still the same for me, and I should learn how to navigate it the same way I did before. I couldn’t. People might be uncomfortable, but they would get used to it. They would change. It was a source of resentment that my parents thought that no one should be inconvenienced, and it was my responsibility not to be a burden to others.

It was my world, too.

“You could never not draw attention,” he finally said. “And it has nothing to do with you being blind.”

The way he said it—gentle and thoughtful—made heat rise to my cheeks, and I didn’t know if he meant my dancing or if I was pretty, but I smiled to myself, suddenly warm all over.

I didn’t have time to ask him to clarify, though, because the next thing I knew he was in front of me, reaching back, grabbing my thighs, and hefting me up onto his back. I sucked in a breath, my feet lifting off the ground, and I hurriedly circled my arms around his neck so I wouldn’t fall.

“I can walk faster,” I told him. “I can. I didn’t mean—”

“Shut up and hold me tight.”

Okayyyy. I locked my arms around his neck.

“Tighter,” he bit out. “Like in the closet the other night.”

I smirked but he couldn’t see it. I tightened my arms around his neck, tucking my head close with my cheek next to his. I’d tried not to think about my parents’ fight that night, but I couldn’t not think about him. How his arms, heat, and pulse in my ear made it all go away. How sometimes you have to get the worst to feel the best. It was a nice memory.

He carried me down the driveway, and when his shoes hit rocks, I knew we were outside my walls.

He stopped and set me down, my leg brushing a body of metal. I put out my hands, rubbing them over steel, glass, and a door handle.

I smiled.

Of course, he wouldn’t have pulled up right in front of my house. He’d parked outside the open gates.

I trailed the length of the car, feeling the smooth surface, but not glossy like glass. It was a matte paint, the long, clean lines and grill narrow, sophisticated, and sleek. Definitely foreign.

“I like your car,” I told him and then teased, “What’s its name?”

He breathed out a laugh and then I felt him behind me, his whisper hitting my ear. “My pets all have pulses.”

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and every inch of my skin sparked to life. How did he do that?

Taking my hand, he led me around to the driver’s side, opened the door, and climbed in, and I heard the seat slide, but I wasn’t sure if he was moving it forward or backward. Something else shifted, too. The steering wheel?

My heart pumped harder, and apprehension made me retreat a step. I don’t think…

“Come here,” he said.

Uh, no. Maybe this isn’t a great idea.

His fingers took mine, and he tugged. “Get in this car right now.”

My stomach sank to my feet as I hesitated, and I felt a little sick.

I could go back to the house right now. I could go to bed with my music and audiobooks and my quiet house while the world continued to spin around me, and the next time I was given a chance to do something wild, stupid, and scary, it would be even easier to turn tail and run… Every day just as predictable as the last.

This was stupid. And illegal.

But he was fun. I didn’t want it to be over.

I closed my eyes and let my shoulders slump a little, defeated.

Fine. I slid a leg into the car, ducking my head as he guided me into his lap, fitting my legs between his long ones. I leaned back a little, so I wasn’t right up on the steering wheel, my back pressed against his chest.

Placing my hands on the wheel, he wrapped my fingers around it. “It’s like a clock,” he instructed. “You’re at ten o’clock and two o’clock right now.”

His fists tightened around mine, emphasizing my position.

I nodded, my belly still somersaulting like crazy.

“I’ll handle the pedals and the stick shift,” he told me. “You just steer.”

“Steer how?” I blurted out, tears of frustration springing to my eyes already. “We’re going to die.”

He snorted. “It’s an empty road,” he told me. “And at this hour, sure to be deserted. Relax.”

I shook my head, still unsure.

“Hey.” He nudged my chin, turning me to face him. “All you have to do is trust me, kid. You understand?”

I paused, feeling his eyes on me and his body behind me.

But the fear melted away. He was in charge, and he could do anything. I did trust him.

I nodded and then took a deep breath and turned my head forward again.

His legs shifted under me, his hand reached underneath mine, and suddenly, the car purred to life as he started the engine.

His right hand settled on the gear shift, moving it into position, and his breath fell on my neck as my fists grinded the steering wheel.

“You’re going to pull up onto the street, just to the left,” he explained. “When you feel all four tires on the smooth pavement, straighten out.”

I swallowed, nodding again. “Not too much gas at first, okay?”

All I heard was another laugh, though. Okay, so maybe I didn’t trust him.

“Giving it some gas,” he warned me, and the engine revved.

I shook the steering wheel side to side, nervous, but he hadn’t taken his foot off the brake…or the clutch or whatever yet, so we weren’t moving, and I relaxed again, feeling stupid.

He didn’t laugh at me, though.

A little more gas, and I felt the tires crunch the rocks underneath. I gripped the wheel so hard I was sure my hands would need to be pried off. The left front tire climbed over a bump, and I turned the wheel in that direction until I felt the right wheel join the other on the pavement.

I smiled, a combination between a laugh and a gasp pouring out of me, and as soon as I registered the rear tires climb onto the road, I twisted the wheel back to the right to make sure I stayed in my lane.

But then the car quickly fell off the road again, back onto the same rocks and grass I just drove away from, bouncing over the bump where the pavement ended.

“Oh, shit!” I turned the wheel left, taking us back onto the road. But I was afraid I would drive into the other lane and shot right again, both tires on the right side, falling off the side of the damn road again.

I can’t do this.

I shook my head, breathing hard as I tried to right myself. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

“Shhh,” he soothed, his left hand resting on my hip. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

My chin trembled, because I was embarrassed and frustrated, and I didn’t want to do this, because I would just make a fool out of myself. I was just going to fail! Why was he trying to embarrass me?

Tears pooled, the car slowed to a crawl, and I closed my eyes, breathing in and out to get my head straight again.

It’s okay. We’ve got all the time in the world.

We’ve got all the time in the world.

I blew out a long, slow breath.

It’s okay.

It’s okay.

He wasn’t rushing me. He wasn’t mocking me. He wasn’t hurrying me.

It was okay if I learned things a little slower. It was okay.

I sniffled, and even though he couldn’t see my face, he probably knew I was crying, but I stretched my fingers and gripped the wheel again.

“Okay,” I said.

He gave it some gas, and I pulled back onto the road, moving the steering wheel smaller this time, swerving the car side to side to find the edges of my lane, kind of like I do when I dance. Gauging the perimeter and counting time to feel for my mark.

The left tires ran over little bumps every few feet, and I realized they were reflectors in the middle of the road, so drivers could see their lanes at night.

That was my mark. How I could tell when I left my lane.

My shoulders relaxed just a little, and I sat up straighter. Okay.

I kept the wheel positioned in my lane, feeling when the right side would dip a little as it did right before it gave way to grass, and feeling the reflectors on the left, keeping me from veering into the opposing lane. My wheel wasn’t always straight, but we were going slow enough I could tell when the road curved just slightly in order to stay between my markers.

“You did it,” he whispered.

I broke out in a smile, my eyes still wet, but feeling a lot better than I did a few minutes ago. He didn’t teach me, either. He didn’t tell me about the reflectors or how to move the wheel or anything. He just waited for me to learn it on my own. It was a nice change and took the pressure off. It was nice not to feel hurried.

“We’re gonna go faster,” he told me.

Faster? And there went the relaxation and confidence I’d just been basking in.

“I’ll let you know which way to move the wheel, okay?”

“Okay,” I replied. It made sense. We’d be going faster, so I’d have less time to correct myself.

His legs moved under me, he shifted gears, and the car picked up pace, making my body jerk against him. Instinctively, I gripped the wheel harder and didn’t blink for a second as I tried to concentrate.

The engine roared, and I could feel the acceleration vibrate under my thighs as we barreled into the night where anything could come out at me too fast for two minds to react in sync. An animal, another car, a person… Jesus. Too fast. Too fast. The car rumbled under my feet, making my heart leap in my chest.

“The wheel is at noon,” he said. “When I say ‘go’, slowly and softly veer to the left, to about ten o’clock.”

I couldn’t swallow or speak, so I just nodded, curling my toes in fear. Shit.

“Go,” he said.

As he instructed, I gently turned the wheel a few inches, feeling the tires run over the reflectors, but instead of swerving in the other direction to correct myself, I found them with the very edge of my left tires and stayed on them. It would probably freak out oncoming traffic with my hugging the middle of the road like this, but I was able to manage the curves of the road all by myself.

“Okay, it’s gonna curve right in—”

“Shh,” I snapped, shutting him up.

I needed to listen.

And then, as he warned, the reflectors twisted right, and I needed to correct the wheel to follow it, surprisingly not going off the road like I half-expected.

“Jesus Christ,” he laughed, sounding impressed. “Okay, I’ll just take a nap. You have fun.”

“Don’t you dare!” I scolded.

We’d eventually come to an intersection, a street light, or a pedestrian. Plus, he worked the gas.

“Can we go faster?” I asked.

I’d been tensing and concentrating so hard, I wanted to be thrilled.

He shifted and accelerated, and if my count was right, we were in fourth or fifth gear.

“It’s pretty straight for the next couple of minutes,” he told me. “You want some music?”

I thought about it, realizing I could feel us running over the reflectors, and I didn’t necessarily need to hear them.

“Okay.”

He turned on his stereo, “Go to Hell” playing, and I relaxed back into him, my heart beating hard with the speed but still studying every little bump underneath us to keep us on the road.

An engine started to rumble from farther off, and the ground under me shook a little harder. What was that?

I turned my head to check with him, but all of a sudden, the wind whipped past us and a loud horn blared as a truck, I thought, zoomed right past us.

I gasped, feeling the car shake with the draft, and my hands shook on the wheel, feeling the reflectors underneath the right tires again. “Holy shit!”

I laughed, and I felt his body shake with his own laughter behind me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I barked but smiled. “We could’ve died!”

“Fun, huh?”

Asshole jerk.

And yes, it was fun.

“Ready for more?” he taunted.

“Yes.” I bit my bottom lip, butterflies still swarming my stomach, but I couldn’t stop.

“In a minute, you’re going to jerk the wheel to nine-o’clock,” he explained. “I’m not going to slow down.”

“What?”

“In three…two…”

“Wait, you said I had ‘a minute’!” I yelped.

“One!” he shouted in my ear. “Go!”

“Fuck…” I cried out, jerking the wheel left to nine o’clock and gasping. “You!”

The car skidded, bouncing and barreling over the pavement and onto a gravel road, and I felt his hand cover the top of my head as our bodies were thrown side to side, my skull damn near hitting the roof.

“Oh, my God, oh, my God…”

He down shifted. “Straighten out,” he told me.

I did, breathing faster than a bullet as he shifted again and sped up, both of us charging into the night, down an unlit gravel road, to whatever tree we were going to wrap this car around.

But holy shit. Everything on me was warm. Hot. My blood raced, and my arms felt strong enough to make me fly.

I turned up the music, found the window buttons on the door, and rolled down the window, the much-needed cool air whipping through my hair as the music pounded.

I turned my head toward him, his breath on the corner of my mouth. “Can we go faster?”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t budge other than to press the clutch, shift gears, and punch the gas.

We charged down the road, and I was having so much fun now. But I wasn’t the one who was losing control. My pulse and breathing had calmed. His, on the other hand…

I felt his chest rise and fall against my back as his breath hit my cheek, shallow and labored.

I curled my lips in a little smile. My turn.

“Tell me when,” I said.

“When what?”

“I want to turn again.”

I felt his head shake side to side. “We’re going too fast for that now, Little Devil.”

I held onto the wheel and lifted up my foot, putting it on top of his and pressing it into the pedal, so he didn’t let off the gas. “Please?”

His voice shook. “Winter...”

I nudged the steering wheel side to side, playing. “Left or right? You choose or I will.”

He breathed hard through his teeth, gripping my hips with both hands now. “No.”

“I’m gonna do it.”

“No,” he growled in a loud whisper. “You do what you’re told.”

I jammed down on his foot, accelerating the car a little more.

“Left or right?” I asked, my nose brushing his. “Tell me.”

He panted, digging his fingers into my skin through my sweatshirt.

“Three,” I threatened, counting down. “Two…”

“Okay, okay, okay,” he said. “Wait. Just wait.”

I leaned my forehead into his. “One.”

“Okay, three o’clock! Now!” he hissed.

I faced forward, rotated the wheel right, both of us slamming into the door as the car sprung over the dips and uneven earth on the new gravel road.

“No, four!” he shouted, realizing three wasn’t enough. “Four o’clock! Shit!”

I turned it more, but we knew it was a lost cause. I lost the wheel as the car skidded and spun out, and my body coiled up on reflex to protect itself. His arms went around me, covering my head, and I screamed as the car tipped onto one side, balancing for a moment and threatening to flip over, but then fell back onto all four tires again.

The car stilled, the engine died, and I stayed like that, cradled in his lap, taking a mental inventory of my body.

Other than banging my knee on the steering wheel when I brought it up, and an ache in my shoulder from hitting the car door, I was fine. I popped my head up, bringing my hands to his face.

“Did I kill you?” I asked.

But he didn’t laugh or say anything for a moment. Just breathed.

“My heart…” he said. “Shit.”

I remembered what he said last week at my house. Do you know what I have to do to get it to beat like that?

“I scared you.”

“Not an emotion I’m used to being on the receiving end of,” he mused.

And then his fingers found the pulse on my neck and pressed down. I followed suit, placing my three fingers on his neck, on the side of his throat, and finding his pulse, as well. We sat there for a moment, each of us with one hand on our own neck and another on the other person’s.

It was fast like mine, and I liked that I did that to him.

“What color is your car?” I asked, pulling my hands down from his neck and mine.

“Black.”

Of course.

“When I remember the colors in my head,” I remarked, “I get a feeling sometimes. Pink is how I feel now. My stomach doing somersaults and laughing. Giddy. Squirrelly…” I slid off him and into the passenger side seat. “I don’t know what I feel when I picture black, though. Nothing, really, I guess.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

I smiled to myself. “You scared me, I scared you, now it’s your turn again.”

He started the car and shifted into gear. “Pull your hood up and put your seatbelt on.”

“Why?”

“Because I told you to,” he muttered, trying to sound commanding, but it just came off as playful.

I pulled my seatbelt on, fastened it, and pulled up the hood of my sweatshirt, my hair spilling out the sides.

We drove in silence, which was fine by me, because he blasted the stereo, and the only time I got to enjoy loud music in the car was with my sister, but she hardly ever had to chauffeur me anywhere, so those times were rare.

Turning my face toward the window, I zoned out, thinking about everything that had happened the past hour. Dancing for him, touching him, the way he was patient with me but also pushed me, to see what I was made of.

And how I wasn’t entirely sure if it was for my benefit or for his pleasure.

His body moved next to me, shifting gears and putting pedal to the metal, but every once in a while, I felt his eyes on me. My heartbeat started to pick up pace, and I was glad I couldn’t see him with my eyes. Glad I would never be able to see him.

He would be the picture he was in my head. A faceless boy with dark hair and fire in his eyes, just how I wanted it.

Forever.

We drove into town—he started curbing his speed, and I think we stopped at a traffic light—and after a few turns, he pulled the car to a stop and turned off the engine.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, taking his keys. “Keep your hood up.”

I didn’t respond, and he didn’t wait for confirmation that I’d heard. Opening the car door, he climbed out, slammed the door shut, and I heard the click of the lock right before everything went silent. Of course, I could still open my door. I could get out. He was keeping anyone else from getting in.

I felt a little traffic farther away, and I could hear the subterranean droning of music coming from the building to my left, but other than that, the village was quiet. I had no idea what time it was.

Why did I need to cover myself? Maybe he was planning on slicing and dicing me, after all, and didn’t want witnesses tracking my whereabouts after the fact?

I almost laughed. I was pretty sure he had no malicious intent at this point.

But then something occurred to me. What if he didn’t want his friends to see me? What if he had a girlfriend?

Nope. Don’t do it. He came to me. He found me. He brought me out. I wasn’t going to look for excuses to end the night.

In no time at all, the door opened, but this time it was my door.

“Let’s go,” he said, taking my hand.

“Where?” I climbed out, following him.

“To see black.”

See black? I loved his imagination.