Page 13 of Saving Tatum (Trace + Olivia 4)

As soon as he parked in the driveway, I hopped out with no intentions to look back.

“See you later, Tater Tot.”

I whipped around, that nickname grating on my nerves. He started to back out of the driveway and when he looked back at me I waved my middle finger at him.

He simply laughed at the gesture, so something told me I hadn’t proven anything.

Chapter Four

I slid into the truck, glaring at the driver.

“I don’t understand why you need to drive me. I’m perfectly capable of driving my car and following you. There’s no need for this.” I waved my arms around wildly to encompass the truck.

Jude chuckled, shifting the truck into gear. “Yes, there is Tater Tot.” He smirked like his ridiculous nickname for me was so clever and cute. I wondered what he’d think of it when I stabbed him with a pencil—or whatever other sharp object I could get my hands on. “If you didn’t ride with me, we wouldn’t get to have such enlightening conversations. And remember our bet?” I nodded reluctantly at his question. “This is the perfect time for each of us to ask our one question.”

Buckling the seatbelt I stifled the urge to roll my eyes. “I deserve a giant bowl of ice cream for dealing with you.”

“With gummy bears on top?”

I gagged at the mention of those devilish little creatures. “Never. Again.” I assured him.

He chuckled. “I really am sorry about that, just so you know.”

“I’m sure you’re very apologetic,” I muttered, my voice laced with sarcasm as I looked out the window.

“Let me put it this way, I’m sorry you got sick, but I’m not sorry I got to spend the night with you.”

I looked over to find him watching the road, his expression serious. There was no crinkling of his eyes or smirk on his lips. He was serious.

I chose not to comment on that. I’d probably only end up getting in an argument with him if I did and frankly, he wasn’t worth it.

As silence stretched between us, he asked, “What’s your favorite color?”

Once again, I was surprised by the simplicity of his question.

I didn’t look at him as I answered. “It always changes, depending on my mood and where I’m at, but right now it’s orange.”

“Why?”

I decided to answer instead of telling him he’d already asked me one question. Sometimes, I just needed to talk to someone—about anything—it just really sucked that I was stuck with Jude.

“Because of that,” I nodded out the truck window at the setting sun. “It’s beautiful, warm, vibrant…” It was everything I wasn’t. “It comes every evening, but it’s always slightly different—the colors brighter and more vivid, or dulled depending on the weather. It’s always pretty though.”

He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t expecting that detailed of a response.”

I shrugged. The answer was more for myself than him, anyway. Even if he did ask.

“What’s your question for me?”

I ignored him for a moment, so I could gather my thoughts. I rolled the window down and let it whip my hair around. It was really still too cold outside for this—winter was only beginning to melt away—but I didn’t care. The cold air helped to calm me.

“Why did you help me?” I don’t know why that was the question that popped into my head. It wasn’t even really the one I wanted to ask, but apparently my mouth had different ideas.

“What do you mean?” His gaze flicked briefly my way—long enough for me to see his thick brows furrowed together across his forehead like a caterpillar.

“Why did you help me the other night, when I was sick? You didn’t have to do that. I’m sure you had more important things to do than hold my hair back as I puked confetti.” I said the words quickly, desperate to get them out. I felt antsy since Friday night. I’d spent most of my weekend pacing my house, and when I couldn’t take that any longer I hung out at Griffin’s and got buzzed on coffee.

He chuckled at my confetti comment but quickly sobered. “I don’t know why you hate me,” his voice softened and when his eyes briefly connected with mine I was shocked to see hurt shining so clearly in them. “I’m actually a nice guy. Yeah, yeah,” he waved a hand dismissively, “I know I’ve been with a lot of girls, and never in a relationship, but…it’s easier not to get attached.” His voice had quieted so much with the last bit that I wasn’t even sure I heard him. I really wondered what he meant by that comment, but I’d already asked my one question and I didn’t want to push my luck.

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