Page 22 of Tattoos and Heartbreak
He was right about the publicity angle, though. We’d been dodging paparazzi since we found out that we were stuck in town without a ride to the next stop, and it was pretty obvious that they were looking for us. They knew we were still here, and there was only one possible reason for that. Taylor—or someone—had tipped them off.
Look, I could see what she was doing. I was supposed to be dating Rivers, and it would be easy to tell the press that we’d been in his room and had overslept and that the tour managers had decided they didn’t want to wait around for us to wake up. They’d thought it would be better if we came along on our own.
Funny, even.
“I’m sure they thought it was funny,” Rivers said suddenly, like he was reading my thoughts.
I snorted. “Sure. Being stuck in a town we don’t know without any mode of transportation is hilarious.”
He elbowed me in the ribs, and when I glanced up at him he was actually smirking. “Come on, Lila. This could be fun.”
Fun. Right. I turned and looked back into the street and went over the plan once again. We didn’t have a car and this little town didn’t have a rental place. We didn’t have time to wait for the only bus that came through town, and even if we had, neither of us wanted to stick around, hiding in the hotel room and waiting for it.
So Rivers had come up with an alternative.
“Now,” he muttered, and we went dashing into the street, heading right for the red truck I’d just been staring at.
The plan was simple. In theory. Get to the truck, get it open, and then wait as Rivers hot-wired the thing so we could get out of town.
“I still can’t believe you talked me into this,” I hissed as we came to a stop next to the truck. “I can’t believe you know how to hot-wire a car.”
He put his hand to the truck’s handle and pressed one finger against his lips. “Quiet. If that gets around, you’ll ruin my reputation.”
That had me rolling my eyes, but I could also feel a smile starting to tug at my lips. No, I’d never hung out with anyone who could hot-wire a car before, but I had to admit that there was something about it that felt... exciting. Forbidden.
Sexy.
The fact that it was Rivers doing the hot-wiring—in theory—probably helped.
He gave me a quick smile, then pulled a length of wire from his back pocket. A quick movement and the wire was inserted into the slot that held the window and Rivers was sliding it around, looking for something. He frowned, though, and put his hand on the handle of the truck.
Then he opened it up.
“The thing wasn’t locked at all,” he said, surprised. “Who the hell doesn’t lock their truck when they park it on the street?”
“People who live in a town small enough that they know everyone,” I snapped. “And if that’s the case...”
I put my hand up to the visor and ran my fingers along the space between the flap and the ceiling. When I didn’t feel anything, I pulled the flap down.
A set of keys came down with it, and I laughed, grabbing them up and holding them in front of Rivers’ face.
“Turns out you’re not going to practice your hot-wiring today,” I whispered. “Get in.”
He made to get into the driver’s seat but I shoved him toward the passenger door. “I don’t think so. I found the keys. I’m driving.”
“Unfair,” he mumbled, but he hustled toward the other side of the truck and climbed in, throwing our bags into the back on his way.
I was already behind the wheel with the truck on and in gear by the time he was seated, and I swerved away from the curb the moment he had the door closed.
“God, let me get my seat belt on!” he said, surprised.
“Hurry it up,” I said, my eyes on the rear view mirror. “We’re stealing a truck. I don’t think this is the sort of thing we want anyone to see. And we definitely don’t want the photographers getting any pictures.”
“Take it easy,” he said. “No one even—”
At that moment, someone came tearing out of the store the truck had been parked in front of, shouting. Moments later, several other people joined him, each of them shouting above the others.
I screamed and Rivers shouted, “Step on it!”
