Page 187 of Rock Me All Night
Heat rushes through my body. I swallow hard. Drew wants to show me what I've been missing. He must mean that figuratively. It's not like he actually wants me to come on his face.
I grab onto the table next to me. Wow. The room is spinning. Funny, the room wasn't spinning a minute ago and now it's going as fast as a damn Tilt-A-Whirl.
"Kara."
"I should get home."
He lowers his voice. "I'll drop it."
I keep my back to him. "No. You'll ask about it until I tell you. So get it over with now."
"Anyone ever try?" he asks.
"Yes. My ex... he used his hands once. It's not that I don't like it. It's..." I press my palms flat against the table. It's impossible to breathe.
A sob wells up in my throat. No, not here. I'm not crying over this. Not over how that asshole Jake treated my scars. They're mine and no one is ever going to see them again.
Ever.
Drew presses his chest against my back. He runs his fingertips over my arms, all the way to my hands.
"I have a good reason. I swear." I pull away. I try to wipe the distraught look off my face. I try to shake off the memories that threaten to surface.
It's not working. I close my eyes but the only thing I can feel is the disgust on Jake's face. The way he looked at me like I was damaged. No longer worth his time or attention. No longer worth his desire.
My hand is shaking. I shove it into my jeans pocket but it's still shaking. Drew is here with me now. Would he still be here if he knew about the scars?
Would he still like me?
I step back. I can't let him see how this hurts. I can't let him know how deep it goes.
But, dammit, the smile isn't coming to my face. It's taking all of my energy to keep up a neutral expression.
Drew squeezes my hand. His voice is soft and even. "I'll take you home."
I nod and I follow him to the car.
* * *
Every minute stretches to forever. I check the clock on the dash. Four minutes. I've been in the passenger seat, carefully avoiding making a noise of any kind, for four minutes.
A yellow light turns red. Drew slams on the brake and the car jerks to a stop. If the guy can afford the rent of that obscenely large house, he can afford a car with some actual handling.
Traffic is totally clear. The only things open nearby are the movie theater and the bar across the street from it, but somehow every street parking space is taken. Meters are off after six. People are cheap enough to hike half a mile if it means they'll save the five dollar valet charge.
Drew is looking at me. My gaze is fixed on the empty road, but I can feel it. I can feel the concern. I've done such a good job not meriting concern the last few years. I can't go back to being the girl everyone worries about.
The light is still red.
Five minutes. I have been sitting in this car for five minutes. I'm pretty sure Drew has spent every one of those three hundred seconds staring at me with concern. It's not safe, really. He should have his eyes on the road.
I turn on the radio and flip through the presets. A Motown song fills the car. It's cheerful. Peppy. I try to grab onto the sensation and manufacture some kind of smile, but it doesn't work.
Drew is looking at me. The weight of his concern is so damn heavy.
Green. Thank God. Drew's attention turns to the road. I lean back in the passenger seat, slide my watch up my forearm, and trace the tiny scars on the inside of my left wrist. They're so faded, they're almost impossible to see. Nothing like the scars on my thighs. Those are deep, and red, and jagged.
The next three lights are green. Drew reaches for the radio and turns it off. The silence fills the car again. He's trying to wait me out. He's trying to make me break.
