Page 58 of The Accidental Text

“Want the specs?”

Chase lets out a breath. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

I laugh, a real belly one. I reach up and touch the dash, running my hand over it. I clear my throat to give the spiel I’ve given so many times. “This here is a four-year-old LamborghiniHuracán,” I start, using an overexaggerated presenter’s voice. “It sports a mid-mounted five-point-two-liter V-ten engine. With six hundred and twenty horsepower, it can go from zero to sixty in two point nine seconds, with a top speed of two hundred and two miles per hour.”

I look over at Chase who’s now slack-jawed. “I think I might be in love.”

“With me or the car?”

“Both,” he says.

I smile and chuckle as I sit back in the bucket seat and watch him as he looks around the space. After a minute, Chase leans back, letting his head fall on his headrest. He turns to look at me.

“I know this isn’t how you thought the night would go,” he says.

I look out the front window of the car, which has a perfect view of the dance floor, and see Dawson and Natasha dancing together, their bodies practically fused they’re so close.

I turn my head toward Chase. “It’s not so bad. At least now I know he’s back with Natasha and I can let this whole stupid crush go.”

“Maybe he’s not?”

We both turn our heads to see Natasha tip her face up and kiss Dawson, right smack on the lips. I feel a wave of nausea. Letting go of this crush may be harder than I thought.

“I’m gonna say he is,” I say, turning my head back toward Chase.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, this is the first fun thing I’ve done since my mom died.”

I reach over and curl my fingers around the top of his hand,and he curls his fingers around mine. It feels like a good thing to do. A right thing to do. “I’m glad,” I say.

He takes a breath and then exhales through his nose. “Is it …”

“What?”

He starts and stops a few times before turning his head and looking at me. “I know it’s weird how we met.”

I snort. “So weird.”

“But what’s even more weird … is that it doesn’t feel all that weird anymore.”

I squeeze his hand. “I know what you mean.”

I do know what he means. I went from feeling so nervous that he was coming, to now sitting in this car, so grateful that he’s here. It’s not weird, and it probably should be.

We sit in silence, feeling the heavy bass of a fast song start, watching more people get on the dance floor.

“Can I ask you something?” Chase says.

“Sure.”

“I know I’m supposed to forget your texts—”

“Guhhh,” I say, cutting him off. “You know, you still owe me some secrets.”

“I do. But first, there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you about.”

“Okay?” I ask skeptically.

“Are you really supposed to release your mom’s ashes jumping out of a plane?”

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