Page 7 of Reviving Kendall

He looks like he’s going to kiss me right before he clears his throat, “Hungry?”

“What?” I ask a little hoarse from not talking for so long.

He smiles, “I’m famished. Want to go over to Pete’s?”

Pete’s is a small diner kind of place that borders our small town and the next one over, which isn’t any bigger than ours. It just holds more of the upper class white collar people. It’s also about an hour walk from here. Twenty if we take a car. I shake my head.

His face shows defeat, but he still says, “Please. I promise to drive really slow and careful.”

The words take me by surprise, “How did you know?”

He shrugs, “I saw you clenching the armrest last night like it was going to fall off. I just assumed you were super pissed or scared of being in the car.”

“And you don’t think that had anything to do with me being in a car full of strange boys?” I ask.

Tilting his head back, he laughs, “With the way that you stood up to Mav, that thought never crossed my mind.”

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t admire the sight of his smile and the sound of his laugh. If he hadn’t accused me of being scared and the words hitting home, I may have told him no. So, when I say yes, I’m not sure if it’s to prove him wrong or myself.

“Come on,” he says pulling my hand to the crook of his elbow without letting go, almost as if he’s scared I’m going to take off running. That’s not too far from the truth.

He leads me over to the newest car in the lot, a huge black pick-up truck. It’s raised so high that Lucas gives me a boost up. I’m so nervous that I can’t even manage to thank him. Snapping my seatbelt and watching him walk around the front of the hood, I take several deep breaths trying to calm down. This is harder than last night, and I think it’s because I was so angry at both the Dicks and Maverick.

I try to distract myself with Lucas. When he comes around the corner, the street lamp catches his hair just right and turns the brown a tinge red. There’s a five o’clock shadow across his jawline that makes me wonder what it would feel like under my fingers. It’s been so long.

He hops up into his seat and I notice his clothes for the first time. In brand new jeans and white long-sleeve shirt underneath a navy vest, he looks like he’s ready for prep school. The only thing that argues that is a black, leather jacket lying against the center console.

It takes a minute to catch on to the fact that he is saying something, “What?”

He passes me a knowing smile, “I just asked if you were good.”

I nod and he starts the engine.

The ride to Pete’s is quiet, but not the awkward kind. Almost like he doesn’t want to pressure me into talking. Lucas makes a few turns to take us out of town. This road runs parallel with the train tracks. All I can hope for is one not to pass. The thought has no sooner left my head and I hear a horn behind us.

My throat clinches tight and my breath comes in short gasps, “Pull over.”

“What?” he asks with concern.

I reach out for his hand, “Please. Just for a minute. Pull. Over.”

True to his word, Lucas has driven more than careful and pulls slowly over to the shoulder. I close my eyes and try to slow my breathing down, so it will slow my racing heart.

When I can no longer hear it, I risk opening my eyes. The last car keeps moving until it’s no longer in sight. It’s then that I realize that I’ve been squeezing the shit out of Lucas’ hand.

“Sorry,” I say trying to let go.

His fingers tighten around mine, “Nothing to be sorry for.”

Breathing in through my nose and out my mouth, Lucas doesn’t rush me. I’m just thankful he’s not asking if I’m ok. I’d probably break down again.

“We can go now,” I say quietly.

He clenches my hand and never lets go the rest of the way to the diner.

We walk into Pete’s and a few people turn around to stare.

“Hey! What’s up, Lucas?” A tall boy says striding up to us. He’s dressed in the same uniform style as Lucas, so they must go to the same school.

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