One Night
Chapter One
I was so mad I could have cursed. If I was the type of person who cursed that is. As a preacher’s daughter, I’d learned early that cursing wasn’t acceptable. But, the way I felt just then really tested everything I’d been taught.
“Come on, Jenny,” my soon to be ex-best friend Laura Montgomery hissed at me.
“Laura,” I said, “they’re higher than Mount Rainer. No way am I getting into a car with them.”
The sweet reek of pot permeated the area like a London fog. Both, Billy Timms and Justin Parks, couldn’t stop smiling at each other as they sat in Billy’s beat up Honda waiting for us.
I swore Laura couldn’t think straight when it came to Billy Timms. He’d finally deigned to talk to her last week, and now it seemed the world revolved around the boy.
I shook my head at her. “No Laura, I’m serious. You shouldn’t either.”
She gave me that patented Laura look. The one that said she thought I was letting my Preacher’s Daughter complex rule my life.
“Jenny Brewster,” she said with her hands on her hips, “I don’t want to sit on that crappy bus for the next three hours, surrounded by a bunch of stupid freshmen. We’re both over eighteen. We got permission from Mrs. Thompson. Come on, this is our chance. Live a little.”
“That’s why I’m not getting in that car with them,” I said. “I want to live.”
I wondered if I was letting my goody two shoes standards lead me. But, no. that wasn’t it. It wasn’t smart. These guys were stoned out of their gourd.
“Pot’s legal now,” Laura said, as if that was what was stopping me.
“Not when you’re driving,” I hissed back. I was unable to believe she was acting like this. She must have it really bad for Billy.
Laura looked at me for a long second, then shook her head. “You’re hopeless,” she said, as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and marched to the car.
Billy told his friend to jump in the back.
Justin got out with a heavy scowl on his face, mumbling something about bros before hoes. He held the rear door to the Honda and shot me a look, raising an eyebrow, asking if I wanted in.
Laura looked over the car’s roof, waiting.
I bit my lip and shook my head. I wasn’t getting in that car with those two. My dad would kill me.
Laura rolled her eyes and threw her arms up in the air, and climbed into the car. Billy glanced at me and smiled, then said something to the others that made them laugh.
Jerk.
He dropped the car into gear and sped off, leaving a cloud of blue smoke and the distant rattle of a car choking to death.
Great!
The bus it was then.
Pulling my coat tight against the biting wind, I grabbed my violin case and turned for the front of the performance hall. I could just see it now, spending three hours of Christmas Eve on a school bus. A bus filled with band nerds. What could be better?
Laura, myself, Billy, Justin and forty other students had just finished our concert and those two were already stoned. How idiotic could they be?
Who schedules a holiday recital three hours from home on Christmas Eve? They had to be half insane. I realized it was a charity event at Eastern Washington University. And, ours had been only one of three high schools to be invited.
But, it was Christmas Eve.
As I turned the corner, my heart dropped to my shoes. NO! It couldn’t be. The bus. Where was the bus?
My world came to a screeching halt. The bus was gone.
I spun around, scanning everywhere. There wasn’t a big yellow monstrosity in sight anywhere. How? When?
My insides tightened into a small ball of pure fear.
No, this could not be happening.
The bus was gone. Laura was gone, and I was abandoned half way across the state. It was colder than last week’s lunch, and the sky looked like it was ready to dump a foot of snow.
Great!
This was so perfect. So typical.
Obviously, they’d filled up quickly and took off. Since when did a high school orchestra get its butt in gear and move that quickly?
“When it's Christmas Eve,” I mumbled to myself, “everyone is in a hurry to get home.”
My heart lurched. Mom was going to hold off dinner until I got home. She’d said it was fine. We’d eat late and then we’d all go to Dad’s service at the church.
Dad’s Service!
No way could I call him. He’d never get here and back in time. I couldn’t do that to him. He loved the evening service on Christmas.
I knew he’d come. He wouldn’t even be mad at me. But, no. There had to be some other way.
Swallowing, I looked down at my phone. My finger hovered over Laura’s name. Would she answer? Would they come back for me?
My guts told me not to do it. Not that car, not with Billy Timms stoned into next week.
Still, I hesitated.
I don’t know what I would have done. Would I have called Laura? Would she and Billy come back? I honestly don’t know.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, at the exact moment when I was standing there trying to decide which bad decision to make, a hot Nova came around the corner of the school.
My heart sank. NO. Not him. Not now.
I’d know that car anywhere.
Forest green, polished to a high sheen, the car was lifted in the back, making it look fast while it was standing still. The powerful engine purred like a kitten. Rocking slightly, as it slowly crawled towards me.
My heart began racing about forty-three gazillion miles an hour.
Nick Parsons.
Why him? Why now?
The car got closer and confirmed my worst fear. It was Nick Parsons. Thick black hair and blue eyes that could make a girl’s knees crumble. The kind of blue you see in a Seattle sky in late August. Clear, with a hint of storm on the horizon.
I swallowed hard and waited. It was impossible to escape. Where would I go?
Maybe he wouldn’t stop. Just keep driving, I prayed.
No such luck.
The car came to a slow halt right next to me.
He rolled down his window and shot me a smile that launched a thousand butterflies.
“Hey, Cupcake. Need a ride?” he asked with that velvety voice of his.
I felt my knees wobble and my face grow warm with the deepest blush of my life. He didn’t remember my name, but he remembered the incident in third grade. The time I spilled a container of cupcakes in his lap.
Great!
“With you?” I stammered.
He laughed. “No, with Fed Ex. Yes, me. I promise I won’t bite.”
I froze for a moment. This was Nick Parsons. The boy too cool for his own good. The guy the boys looked to for approval. The one every girl secretly, and not so secretly, desired.
Nick Parsons. One of the Lakeland boys. Breaker of a dozen hearts. Quick with his fists and a seductive line. He’d been in more fights than any ten boys and had a permanent seat assignment in the school's detention hall.
It was a minor miracle that he hadn’t been expelled. I’d always thought it was because our principal, Dr. Hall, saw something in him. Something worth saving.
“Well?” he asked again.
Alarm bells began to go off in my head.
“Um ... No, thank you,” I said instinctively. No way was I getting into a car with Nick Parsons.
He laughed and shook his head, then jumped out and stood before me.
I gulped as I looked up. He was so tall. At least two inches over six feet and his shoulders seemed to block out half the sky. He wore a gray flannel shirt, jeans, and heavy work boots. Pretty much the same thing he wore every day.
Nick wasn’t rich. I know for a fact that his hot ride was re-built by his own hands over the last three years. That was one of the things that made him so admired by my classmates. He earned his coolness, he didn’t buy it.
He looked down at me, continuing to shake his head.
Reaching down, he took the violin case from my hand. The brush of his fingers against mine sent a shiver down my back.
Me, being the drooling idiot I am, didn’t stop him from taking the violin. I couldn’t.
All I could do was watch him walk around the back of the car and open the passenger car door, place the case in the back seat, then stand there, waiting. His eyebrow cocked at an inviting angle.
“Um ... I don’t know,” I managed to get out.
Nick shook his head again. “Listen,” he said, “the bus is gone. Billy Timms is weaving his way home. He’s probably going to end up in a ditch somewhere if he doesn’t kill someone first. You are three hours from home,” he continued, “and it’s colder than hell. So, do you want a ride or not?”
I winced inside at the curse word. I know it was ridiculous. I wasn’t perfect, and I really shouldn’t be so judgmental. But, if you had been raised in my house, you would have internally winced as well.
Taking a deep breath, and swallowing hard, I nodded. What choice did I have? At least he wasn’t drunk or stoned. At least I didn’t think so. But, if he wasn’t, what explained him stopping for me?
Screwing up my courage, I moved to that side of the car. It would only be three hours. Three long, painful hours. But, I could do it. We’d get home and go our separate ways.
My parents might not even find out. They’d just assume Laura’s mom dropped me off.
I suddenly thought of Laura. What would she say if she knew I was catching a ride with Nick Parsons? She’d eat her heart out with pure jealousy. Nick Parsons made Billy Timms look like last week’s gum. Pretty much useless.
As I scrunched past him, I caught a whiff of leather, motor oil, and wood smoke. Without a doubt, one of the sexiest things in this world. Someone should bottle that, I thought. They’d make a million.
He closed the door, then hurried back around to his side.
I scrunched over as far as I could go, my shoulder pressed into the door. Secretly, I made sure the door was still unlocked in case I needed to make a jump for it.
He shifted the car into gear, but we didn’t go anywhere. We just sat there, that big V-8 begging to be let loose.
Nick was looking at me. I could feel his stare examining me as if he were waiting for something.
“What?” I asked. Probably a little bit snippier than I had intended.
He laughed. “Your seat belt. Can’t have you getting hurt.”
My heart stopped. A grinding halt. What an idiot I am.
Once I was properly situated, we began the trip for home.
Three hours, I repeated to myself.
A heavy silence grew between us. It was like someone had erected a spiked wall. The urge to break the silence became overwhelming.
“Uh ... Listen,” I said, anything to tear down that wall. “I don’t have enough to pay for my share of the gas. But, I can give you some when we get home.”
He laughed, “Don’t worry about it, Cupcake,” he said. “It is a proven fact that pretty girls do not hurt the gas mileage.”
My heart jumped. I could not have heard what I thought I had just heard. No way. I must have been mistaken.
Great!
Now my hearing was going.