Page 37 of Remember Us This Way

Climbing into my Range Rover, I keep the door open as I spare a glance toward the football field, my face concealed by the tinted windows. Noah’s gaze lingers on me a moment, but when he’s scolded by Coach Martin, his stare falls away, and I watch as he jogs back down the field, catching the ball before immediately tossing it away.

Wanting to use every second of his distraction to my advantage, I quickly grab a few things from my car before scrambling out of it, keeping my body concealed by the Range Rover.

My heart hammers erratically in my chest, and I take a shaky breath before making a run for it. I scramble over to Noah’s car, hating how my head bobs over the top of the stupid thing. But damn, it looks nice up close and personal.

Hastily digging into my pocket, I pull out the keys and quickly dive into the driver’s seat. Then as I close the door behind me, I spare another glance at the field to find him still running drills with his teammates, none the wiser. But the second I turn the key in the ignition, he’s gonna know. The whole fucking team will, and when that inevitably happens, I’m gonna have to get my ass out of here quickly.

Under the cover of the dark tinted windows, I take a second to glance around the Camaro, making sure everything is where it’s supposed to be. I grab the seat belt and quickly fasten it into place before reaching under the seat and pulling the lever to drag it as far forward as it will go.

After fixing the mirrors, I let out a shaky breath before taking the key and inserting it into the ignition. My whole body sweats, my nerves running rampant and almost convincing me to bail. But I’ve come this far, and while this is definitely for my own benefit, it’s also for Noah’s. I need him to come back to me, to give me a chance to get close to him, and if grand theft auto is how I’m going to do that, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

A wave of determination comes over me, and as I grip the key tighter between my fingers, I glance up at the field, waiting until Noah is in prime position. After all, if I’m doing this, then I want to make sure I can see his face at the exact moment he realizes I’m stealing his car. I want to commit his rage to memory and spend the rest of my life reveling in it, and if I happen to see a little bit of shock and disbelief in his eyes, then I’ll add it to my list of growing bonuses.

Noah makes his way back up the field, and I watch as he raises his gaze to my Range Rover again. Realizing he hasn’t got the faintest clue what’s about to happen, I grin to myself. His brows furrow, probably wondering why the hell I’m still here. When he reaches the very top of the field and goes to turn back around, a wicked smile tears across my face, and with a quick twist of my wrist, the Camaro’s engine roars to life, rumbling through the school.

Fuck yeah. This is better than I could have ever dreamed.

Noah’s head whips up mere milliseconds before the rest of his team takes notice, and my grin only widens when I read the “OH FUCK NO,” on his lips. He breaks into a sprint toward the parking lot, jumping the chain link fence with ease, but I put the Camaro in reverse and hit the gas. The tires screech as I spin the wheel, and I’m thankful that the rest of the parking lot is mostly deserted apart from a few cars belonging to Noah’s teammates.

Hitting the automatic button for the passenger’s side window, I wait the few seconds it takes for it to lower all the way down while pressing my foot on the clutch and putting the car back into gear, never more grateful my father insisted I learn to drive a stick shift. Then as Noah barrels toward me, his ferocious gaze locked on mine, I hold my hand up, my middle finger flying high as I hit the gas again, peeling out of the parking lot.

The second all four tires are off school property, I hit him with the final blow and show him exactly what I can do. Bringing the Camaro to a stop, I watch Noah as I press the clutch. He shakes his head as if reading me perfectly, and with that, I hit the gas, the very same way Aunt Maya taught me, and I revel in the sweet sound of tires squealing against asphalt as I show him the most stunning burnout I’ve ever performed.

Noah’s mouth drops, and I don’t hang around to hear what he has to say about it before adjusting my hold over the pedal and shooting down the street. A giddy laugh tears from deep in my chest.

Checkmate, Noah Ryan. Check-fucking-mate.

With the engine purring so beautifully beneath me, I put the other window down before reaching over and silencing the angry calls coming from a number that hasn’t graced my phone in a long time. After all this time, it’s nice to see that my number is still programmed in his phone.

Then knowing damn well Noah doesn’t have any good music in his car, I grab the emergency CD I stole from my Range Rover and slide it into its new home before trying to figure out how to make it play. I could always connect my phone to Bluetooth, but then how the hell would I irritate the shit out of Noah when I finally take pity on him and allow him to have his car back?

Music blasts through the speakers as I cruise through the streets of East View, and it’s impossible to wipe the smile off my face. His car smells so much like him. It’s intoxicating.

I get halfway home before thinking better of it and turning around, heading back toward the park that Noah and I once called our spot. It’s going to be a long walk home—a walk I never considered to be long whenever I was walking it with Noah—but it’s worth every second of it. Though with my Range Rover stuck at school, I’ll have to bug Mom or Dad for a lift back there tomorrow. Maybe even Tarni, but then . . . maybe I won’t bother asking her because that’s only going to bring questions that I’m not ready to answer.

Reaching the park, I bring the Camaro to a stop right in the middle of the small parking lot, and I sit there staring out at the familiar terrain for far longer than I should. My mind takes me back to all the memories this place once held. So many amazing times filled with laughter and teasing. It was another world back then, back when Linc was still here, and we didn’t understand the true meaning of hurt.

Realizing Mom and Dad will be coming home from work soon, I initiate the second portion of my grand plan as I flip through the songs on the CD, trying to figure out which one would be most appropriate to burst his eardrums when he gets back in the car. I try to find something upbeat, something with plenty of bass and drums just to add an extra punch, but when I pass something completely different, something that holds a message within its lyrics, my finger pauses on the skip button, and I know this is the perfect song.

Nerves settle in my chest, the message in the song far too deep for me to be able to speak the words out loud, but I know he will understand. He’s always known that when I can’t find the words, I communicate through the music I listen to, something not many people have been able to pick up about me. But Noah did. He was always so observant.

Not wanting to linger on it or give myself a chance to change my mind, I go about screwing with his car, being as inconveniently irritating as humanly possible. I turn on the hazard lights, put the windshield wipers on full blast, and crank the volume to the max. Then just to be extra, I change the angles of the side mirrors and adjust the rearview one. Leaving the center console and glove box open, I start the song right from the beginning and cut the engine with a sigh. I wish there was some way to record his reaction when he finally gets back in his car.

I squeeze my way out of the car, leaving the seat as far forward as it can possibly go. Then before locking the doors behind me, my fingers trace the lines of my Z keyring as if holding on to something he coveted could somehow make me closer to him.

I begin my journey home with my head a mess of emotions, but what else should I have expected? Wild, unruly emotions seem to be my new normal at the moment. It’s almost been twenty minutes before I grace Hazel with my presence, and I barely even get a hello before she promptly ignores me and goes back to practicing her winged eyeliner in the bathroom mirror.

Trudging into my room, I drop Noah’s keys on my desk, and as I go to walk away, I think better of it. Scooping the keys up again, I steal my Z keyring back, grinning at the smug pride that swells in my chest.

Settling on the end of my bed, I get stuck into my homework until I hear Mom and Dad coming home from work. I make my way back downstairs to find Dad struggling with an armful of groceries. “What’s going on?” I ask, striding into the kitchen and eyeing Dad as he dumps the bags on the island counter, taken aback by the amount he managed to carry in one load. “What’s with all the groceries?”

“Aunt Maya is coming for dinner,” Mom tells me as she unloads the wine—because we all know that’s the most important part.

“Oh cool,” I say, a fond smile pulling at the corners of my lips as I help Dad with the groceries, still wondering why the hell we need so much when it’s just Aunt Maya.

Hazel strides in and drops her bony ass on one of the island stools, clearly not in the mood to lend a hand. “Did I hear you say that Aunt Maya was coming?” she asks, her gaze lingering on the groceries as if wondering what yummy snacks she can hide and steal.

“Sure did,” Mom says as a strange note appears in her tone. She swallows hard before sparing me a glance. “She said Noah was coming.”

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