Free Progress (Progress #1) by Amalie Silver Page B

“What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing,” I snapped.
    He leaned back in the booth, and I felt the vibration of his leg against the table. “You’re mad at me?”
    “No.” I shook my head. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
    He chewed the inside of his cheek and leaned into me. “Fickle and sensitive. That’s two strikes, Red.”
    “Fuck you.” My response was indifferent. I tried to stay tough; I didn’t want him to think I was a crybaby. Why I cared, I had no idea. If anyone before him had spoken to me that way, I would’ve walked long ago. But then, I guess no one had ever really made their insults appear as harmless in nature.
    “So I was thinking we could go on a road trip!” He slapped his hands and rubbed them together as though he had the entire night planned.
    No! I made the decision to be mad at you! You can’t dismiss it. I was firm. I made the call. I said ‘fuck you’. How can that be ignored? I cocked my head and scrunched my nose at the drastic subject change. “What?”
    “A road trip. You know, driving. On a road. No parking involved.” He winked.
    “What makes you think I want to be in a car with you?” I asked.
    He shrugged. “For the same reason I want to be in a car with you .”
    My heart fluttered and I tried to ignore it. “Why’s that?”
    He looked around the room in a daze, his eyes shifting to glossy. Then he snapped his head back to meet my stare. “For the company.”
    Grabbing my glass, he shot it back and almost finished it in one gulp.
    “You were kind of a dick last night, you know. I wouldn’t be surprised if Paulina and Troy were mad at you.”
    He rose from his seat, bouncing up and adjusting his sleeves. “That would really suck if I gave a shit.” He grabbed his uniform shirt and a CD case from the table and turned toward the door. “You coming?” he said over his shoulder.
    What is it about this guy? Is he full of shit or does he really not care? And what does he want from someone like me?
    Dammit!
    Too many unanswered questions!
    I threw a tip down on the table and gathered my purse as I followed him out into the parking lot.
    Once I caught up to him, I mimicked his long strides out to my car. “Where did you have in mind? And do you have the gas money for said road trip?”
    “No. Don’t you?” he asked, and I noted his sarcasm. “I don’t care where we go. How much gas is in your tank?”
    “I could get us about twelve, maybe thirteen miles from here. Payday is tomorrow. And if I have to choose between a pack of smokes and a leisurely drive to Iowa tonight, sorry, but I’m going with the smokes.”
    “Fine,” he said, stopping abruptly at the side of my car. “But I want to get out of here. Let’s go find some trouble.”
    I cringed at what his idea of trouble meant. I wasn’t a trouble kind of girl. And yet somehow I could see that being the only outcome with a guy like Jesse.
    I unlocked his door and he got in. By the time I walked around to the driver’s side, he was already putting a Bosstones CD into the player.
    Turning the key, I glanced over, and he’d already begun playing the imaginary drums on my dash. Bouncing leg and all.
    His enthusiasm was infectious.
    Warming.
    Alluring.
    And fucking sexy.
     
    Dammit.
    Oh God, I’m in so much trouble with this guy.
     
    He reached into the side pocket of my purse, pulled the last cigarette from my pack, and lit it. “Well don’t just sit there gawking at me. Get our asses to the store! We’re out of smokes.”
    “What is it about you, Jess?” I asked, wondering why I wasn’t mad he’d reached into my purse without my permission; wondering why I wasn’t pissed he snatched my last smoke…
    “I love this song,” he said, closing his eyes and moving his head to the music.
    …And wondering how someone could change topics so easily without being called out on it.
    Why didn’t I call him out on it?
    Because I didn’t want to make him go away, that was why. Beautiful boys like him didn’t hang