Free Melody's Crush: (Book One) by Alora Dillon Page B

like other people’s driving. Call it phobia, call it crazy, but I’m going to call it opportunity. Jake knows how much I hate other people’s driving and he doesn’t particularly care for my granny style driving either. So, in order for us to reach a compromise, he told me to just keep my eyes on him while he drives and let him keep his eyes on the road. I was all for that! So for ten minutes every morning, I got to study every feature he had until arriving at school.
    Jake opened my side of the door first and then got into the driver’s seat. It was clear to me that he just liked driving my sports car compared to his ‘old man’ beamer as he called it. I got this limited edition 2015 Ford Mustang Coupe concept car with a V6 automatic transmission with one of a kind, burnt amber metallic paint last year for my seventeenth birthday from my dad. He paid as much as a house for it and it was just one of the many overly expensive gifts he would send to try and “make-up” for all the times he was not around.
    He left my mother for another woman when I was just four years old. Or so he says. But in truth, my mom left him after finding out he was having an affair. Does he regret it? It seems so. But no matter how many relationships he had been in since, he always kept trying to get my mother to get back with him. And of course, my mother refuses him every time.
    And as long as she continues to refuse him, the more extravagant my gifts get. I mean, I’ve done the weekend daddy visit thing since I was five. But for the last few years, I basically gave him every excuse in the book as to why I couldn’t come over. So, eventually, he gave up trying to see me. I didn’t hate him. I just didn’t want to be around him that much.
    “You seem a little distant today. What’s up?” Jake asked, shaking me from my thoughts.
    Removing my black rimmed glasses, I rubbed my eyes pretending that I didn’t get much sleep. “Just a little tired, I guess.”
    He chuckled to himself as we reached the longest stoplight between home and school. He turned to me grinning causing my stomach to do more flips.
    “You really need to set a time limit to your studying. All work and no play makes Melody a dull girl,” he said teasingly. He grabbed my knee and squeezed causing me to jump out of my skin and erupt with giggles. I tried desperately to push his hand away but he latched on squeezing until I was coughing in fits of laughter.
    “Alright, alright, alright!” I screamed. I punched him repeatedly in his right arm and he finally let go. He rubbed my head causing my carefully contained curls to dislodge from my braid and go every which way.
    I popped his hand repeatedly. “Stop, you jerk off!” I said, more teasing than anything. Flipping down the mirror hidden in the visor, I tried desperately to tuck the disarrayed curls back into place with little success.
    Jake’s laughter caused my ears to ring. “There really is no way to control that mop of yours so you might as well stop trying.”
    That stung.
    If looks could kill, I would have been behind bars already after the look I sent him. He was actually a bit surprised. I realized too suddenly that I had no right to get hurt at his brotherly teasing. So, I popped him on the arm again.
    “Piss off!” I said and then gave him my best Cheshire grin.
    He gently pulled the tail of my French braid backward and I turned and slapped at his hand. He slapped my hand back and then it was a back and forth game until eventually, as usual, it ended in me punching his arm to get him to stop teasing me.
    “Ouch. Damn that hurt!” he said, scrunching his face in make believe pain. “You hit like a guy.”
    “Keep teasing me and you will see just how hard this ‘guy’ can throw a punch.”
    He palmed the side of my face, pushing me just enough so that my body rocked to the other side of the car. Moving farther away from me, he lifted his arm in defense waiting for my punch that never came. I