Violet
Most of the chaos on campus was over. No one was really out. The sky was dark, and the air was colder than I expected. I’d been in the zone at the gallery, staying later than I planned to. I got lost in the drawing. It happened a lot.
I didn’t regret it, though. Even if I was questioning my decision to walk home alone in the dark.
My footsteps echoed against the sidewalk, my paint splattered Adidas sneakers glowing in the dark. A noise behind me caused my chest to tighten. I spun around, looking down the sidewalk, but nothing was there.
Burying my hands a little deeper into the front pocket of the hoodie, I kept walking, ducking my head against the cold air. Crossing the street, I started down the next block and thought longingly of a hot shower.
The sound of an engine rumbling in the distance didn’t make me turn around, even as it grew closer and closer. The muscles between my shoulder blades began to cramp when I realized the vehicle had slowed and wasn’t passing me. Instead, it seemed to be following.
I resisted the urge to look, though my footsteps quickened. That car legit sounded like something out of some horror movie. The kind where some beater van snatched people off the street, took them to some cave in the side of a hill, and carved out their eyes.
I shivered.
The car suddenly got louder, the engine revved, and a white blur shot forward, passing me. Lifting my head, I watched it, thankful it decided to move on.
Only it didn’t.
Instead of speeding by like I thought, it pulled to the curb just ahead.
Like it was waiting for me.
Well, this is a problem. I liked my eyes where they were.
The white paint was worn, and there was a spot of rust on the back. The tire hooked onto the back was old and dirty, and the brown top vibrated against the wind.
I hesitated, not sure if I should rush past or turn and make a run for the gallery and hope Abella was still there.
As I debated, this low sound filled the air. Sort of like a zipper being undone. I stared, horrified, at the Jeep as the passenger-side window fell in.
I stopped altogether and stared, wondering what the hell was happening.
A terribly loud cranking noise burst out, and the Jeep reversed, stopping right beside me. My hand grabbed the strap lying across my chest and squeezed. My other hand went down into the pocket on the front flap and delved in.
“Need a ride?” a familiar voice called from the interior.
I squinted, trying to see inside. There was no light to illuminate the driver.
Again, something that would be found in one of those B-rated horror flicks.
“I try not to make a habit of accepting rides from strangers,” I yelled.
A laugh drifted over to me. I knew that laugh. It was the same one that came after I was accused of checking out his ass just moments before.
“Stark?” I called out.
“I thought we already established I wasn’t a criminal.”
The tension in my body drained away. Stepping closer to the Jeep, I looked in. There he was, sitting in the driver’s seat, the white T-shirt glowing and the top of his head in the shadows.
“I’m pretty sure I said I wasn’t ready to make that assumption.” I reminded him.
I liked the sound of his laugh. There was something melodic about it. A sound that made me want to close my eyes and put it on repeat.
“C’mon. Get in. I’ll drive you back to campus.”
I hesitated. What did I know about this guy, really?
He was good looking.
He had a nice ass (yeah, I looked).
His laugh made my insides quiver.
His shoes might or might not be stolen.
Yeah… I was thinking that wasn’t enough information to accept a ride from him. I could end up on the next episode of 48 Hours.
The sound of an extremely squeaky door brought me back from my internal reasoning. I watched Stark jog around the back of the Wrangler and onto the sidewalk in front of me.
“C’mon, Vi. You either get in the car, or I’m going to follow you all the way back to campus.”
He called me Vi.
A nickname that suggested familiarity. A nickname he probably picked to get me to trust him.
God. I was such a moron.
It was working.
“Do you have heat in that thing?” I asked, gesturing to his ride.
Straight, white teeth flashed. “I’m pretty sure it barely works.”
I laughed.
“C’mon,” he said softly, reaching out and palming my elbow. I stiffened, and he pulled back. The frown on his face was clear. “I can’t let you walk home in the dark alone. I’m just not that kind of guy.”
The second the words left his mouth, he drew back like they surprised him.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Really? You seem pretty shocked by that.”
Stark lifted the hat off his head and rubbed his palm all over the messy strands of dark hair crowding his head. “It’s been a weird night.”
When I didn’t say anything, he glanced over at me. “You coming or what?”
He was impatient. Almost as if he couldn’t believe I was still standing there and not jumping his bones.
In the front pocket of my bag, my hand curled around something, and I pulled it free. “Okay, yeah.” I held up the bracelet that appeared to be made out of ancient telephone cord. It had a black whistle dangling off it. “But I’m warning you now. I have my rape whistle.”
He blinked, glancing between me and the whistle I was holding up. “What the fuck is a rape whistle?”
“Guys have it so easy,” I muttered.
That confused him even more.
“You know,” I explained. “When girls enroll at college, we’re all given rape whistles… you know, in case.”
“Rape is that bad here?” He glanced down the street toward campus.
“I thought you went here?” I questioned.
“I do,” he said, looking back at me. Then he screwed up his face. “How the fuck is a whistle going to save you if some scumbag is trying to rape you?”
I shrugged. “Beats me.” A thought crossed my mind, and I placed the whistle between my lips and let it dangle. “Want to find out?” I smiled.
Horror stole his handsome features. He shot forward and snatched it out of my mouth. “Hell no! The last thing I need is someone thinking I tried to rape a woman!” His eyes roamed the street as if he were terrified someone might see.
Okay, so maybe it was a bad joke. I stepped closer, laying a hand on his arm. “Sorry. My sense of humor can be a little… off at times.”
He glanced down to where my hand touched his arm, then back up at me. I wished the hat wasn’t shading his face so much. I wanted to know the color of his eyes. I wanted to see if he was feeling the pulse of electricity where we touched like I was.
I could see his jaw, though. I was pretty convinced it could cut through steel.
“It’s cool,” he said and held up the whistle for me to take.
I took it and shoved it into my pocket.
“A rape whistle,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“I thought everyone knew the girls were all given one.” I wondered out loud as I followed him to the Jeep.
“Yeah, well, I thought men knew what the word no meant.”
The silence between us was filled by the squeaking of the passenger-side door as he opened it up. I glanced into the Jeep warily. It was pretty basic. Noisy. And the corner of the brown ragtop was fraying.
I loved it.
Whatever hesitation I had known about accepting a ride from someone I just met was no longer an issue. Maybe it was the fact that he was offended when he realized women had to carry around whistles for protection.
Or maybe it was the fact he was gorgeous.
Like seriously gorgeous. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen him around campus before. A guy like him was definitely not one that would ever be missed.
“I’ll just, ah…” he said awkward, fumbling with the window he’d unzipped to yell out to me. “Get this for you.” It was almost as if he didn’t know how to zip up his own window.
It was sort of charming.
Better watch it, Violet, I told myself. Guys like him aren’t the dating type. At least not for girls like you. They’re the love ‘em and leave ‘em type. Life’s hard enough without adding that in the mix.
The self-imposed warning had me sinking back against the vinyl seat. Maybe I should have taken my chances with the dark street.
Seemed accepting a ride from this stranger might be more dangerous.
Maybe I was a woman of danger. After all, my ass stayed firmly against the creaky vinyl. From my position inside, I watched his body flex and move beneath the white T-shirt as he held the window up and zipped it closed. He smelled good, like some pricey cologne. A scent that, after just one whiff, would forever remind me of him. Of this moment. It wasn’t even that particularly memorable, yet here I was declaring in my brain that it would be there forever.
His dark hair was overly long and it stuck out from beneath the edges of the hat, the ends teased by the wind. When he was done, he slammed the door (making it quiver), then jogged around to hop in the driver’s seat.
It was then that I realized I was sitting on something.
Delving my hand beneath me, I pulled out a roll of duct tape. I held it out between us, and Stark grinned. “Hold on to that for me, eh?”
I slid it over my hand and onto my wrist like a giant bracelet.
The Jeep made a groaning sound as he put it into drive and pulled away from the curb. It was loud in here, so loud I didn’t bother speaking. If I did, I would have to yell. I couldn’t help but notice the way he sort of lounged back in the seat. He made it look a lot more comfortable than I knew it actually was.
His body had this sort of… grace about it. Maybe it was confidence. Whatever it was, it acted like a magnet for my eye.
He caught me glancing at him, and a slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips. His hand shot out, and for a moment, I tensed, thinking he was reaching for me, but he wasn’t. The palm of his hand hit the tall stick shift in the center and his fingers wrapped around the top.
I looked away, out the cloudy plastic window and toward the sidewalk. At least it was a short drive back to campus.
Seconds later, the Jeep began lurching, making a sound I was pretty sure cars didn’t make, and then stuttered violently before shutting off completely. I felt my eyes round, and I glanced across the seat at Stark. “I don’t think that’s supposed to happen.”
“Fuck,” he muttered and steered it to the curb and threw the emergency break.
I hoped it worked. Nothing else seemed to.
Stark pulled the hat off his head and dropped it in his lap, running both his hands through his hair. When he looked at me, I was momentarily dumbstruck by the mess on his head and how perfectly he pulled it off.
“Stay here,” he ordered and catapulted out of the interior.
I watched through the windshield as he popped the hood and smoke came floating out. I giggled. I didn’t think it was very loud, but the next thing I knew, he was leaning around the open hood and glaring at me.
Pressing my lips together, I gave him a little wave.
A few moments later, he was knocking on the plastic window. I decided it was easier to just open the door rather than fight with the zipper. I cracked it open a little.
“Yes?” I asked.
“I need the tape.”
I burst out laughing. “This I gotta see.”
Bringing the tape, I met him at the engine. I could feel the heat radiating off the still-warm parts. “I’m pretty sure there’s more tape in there than actual parts.” I observed.
“No shit,” he muttered. He leaned close to the dirty insides and spoke. “I think this is the problem.”
I squinted, but it was dark. Reaching into my pocket, I grabbed my phone and called up the flashlight. It clicked on, illuminating everything with bright light.
“It looks even worse now,” Stark cracked.
I grimaced. “I can walk the rest of the way.”
“No,” he growled and leaned back down to whatever it was he saw. Like a doctor in the OR, he held out his hand between us. “Tape.”
Sliding the roll off my wrist, I slapped it into his palm.
I pointed the light while he applied. When he was done, his fingers were greasy and so was the roll of tape. “That should do it,” he said, pulling back and dropping the hood.
After climbing back inside, he grabbed the key and glanced at me.
I crossed my fingers and made a face.
His chuckle was drowned out by the sudden rumbling of the engine.
I clapped. “I gotta tell you,” I said. “You sure know how to use some tape.”
“Stick with me, kid,” he cracked and pulled back onto the street.
When my building came into view, I pointed to the street he needed to take. Then I pointed to the tall building up ahead. Stark pulled up in front of it, leaving the engine to idle. “I’m not gonna turn her off. She might not turn back on.”
“Probably smart.” I agreed.
We lapsed into an awkward silence, so I cleared my throat and reached for the door handle. “Well, thanks for not murdering me.”
“It was the least I could do.”
I climbed out of the ride. As I moved to shut the door, I leaned back in. “Hope you make it home.”
His grin was fast. “Me, too.”
My stomach dipped a little. Without another word, I slammed the door (there really was no other way to shut the thing) and gave him a little wave before rushing toward my building.
He didn’t drive away until I was inside, and as I walked down the hall to my room, I couldn’t help but wonder if that was the first and last time I would ever see him.