Page 9 of Promise Me Nothing
“This is Dodger territory,” he says, and I finally pick up on the teasing in his voice. “I’m not sure I can have a D-Bag supporter staying in my house.”
I allow myself to smile. “I don’t really watch baseball.”
“Me neither. But if you’re staying with me, I gotta make sure you fit in.”
Nodding, I look back out the window and watch as we drive through Downtown Los Angeles. It only takes a few minutes to get onto the freeway, and holy moly was Lucas not joking when he said traffic is bad right now. It’s horrendous.
I remember when I was younger there was some big thing on the news about freeways in California. Carmaggedon, I think it was called. Bumper-to-bumper as far as the eye can see. Exactly what things look like right now.
And then I face the realization that I’m tired and starving and facing another long ride before I have a moment to myself.
I’ve never been particularly good at small talk. Sienna said the girls at our old school used to call me The Cactus because I was so prickly. I struggle with jokey-joke stuff and just kind of… enjoy silence. It works for me, but other people don’t seem to get it.
I glance at Lucas out of the corner of my eye. He seems nice enough as he sits there, singing lightly with the music coming from the radio. But I can’t think of anything to say. So I sit like a mute, my mind in a jumble, just looking in to the neighboring cars as we bob and weave and pass them, then fall behind. It’s an endless crawl.
“Is it always this bad?” I finally ask about fifteen minutes later, having thought about no less than a hundred things I could say to not remain a mute.
Lucas shrugs. “Pretty much. Although, we’re about to breeze through it.”
My brow furrows in confusion until I see Lucas pull off to the left side, into two lanes that are completely free from traffic. And then suddenly we’re going eight miles per hour and blowing past everyone.
I smile, looking over my shoulder as we leave everyone behind. “This is awesome.”
“Yeah it is.” He points at a little box that sits on his dashboard. “I don’t mind paying extra to drive in the FastPass lanes. There’s nothing in the world more satisfying than driving past everyone else stuck in traffic.”
“We don’t have a lane like this in Phoenix, so when it’s time for traffic, you’re just sitting in it forforever. I mostly rode the bus. But I can’t imagine sitting in something like this every day.”
At Lucas’ silence, I take a peek at him and catch his eyes on me.
“What?”
He shrugs. “I just think that’s the most words you’ve said to me at once since we started talking. I’m glad. I was starting to worry that you were, I don’t know, afraid to talk to me or something.”
I blush, the heat of my embarrassment rising to the space between my cheeks and my ears. Whenever I’m embarrassed, I blush and then start sweating. It’s really unpleasant, but even worse in an environment where the sweat doesn’t evaporate into thin air.
“Hey, I just meant I’m glad you feel like you can say something to me. Anything. The last thing I want is for you to get here and feel like your lips have to be zipped.”
I nod, give him a tight smile and look back out the window, which is where my eyes stay for the majority of the ride. We change freeways after a little while, get stuck in more traffic, then finally pull off.
I already did a Google street search to make sure I wouldn’t be living in an area worse than where I was living in Arizona, so I know he lives in a big ass house right on the water in a town called Hermosa Beach. But really, that’s all I know about where he lives.
When we talked on the phone before I agreed to move, he told me a little about his life. Just enough to make me feel like coming to stay with him would be a good thing.
I know his mom is a work-a-holic who manages ‘talent’ for some big agency and that Lucas is basically on his own even though he still lives at home. I know he has a girlfriend named Remmy that is finishing up college in Santa Barbara.
So, if my assumptions are correct, it will be mostly just the two of us this summer, since his mom and girlfriend aren’t around much. Which works for me. I haven’t had parents in almost ten years. The last thing I want is a mother-type hovering over me and resenting me because of something my dad did several decades ago.
“You ever been?”
I realize he’s been talking as we breeze past all of the traffic and I totally zoned him out.
I shake my head. “Sorry, my mind wandered. What did you say?”
He gives me that charming smile again. “I asked if you’ve ever been surfing before.”
I laugh. “Definitely not. Unless you count boarding sand dunes in Yuma, which I doubt. And really, that was more like sledding, though I wasn’t entirely horrible at it.”
He nods his head, turning his eyes back out to the mess of cars surrounding us.
