The Crush

“I’m saving up for something else,” I assured him. “Until then, I have to deal with it. Not like I could get any money for that piece of junk if I tried to sell it.”

“Next time, don’t take it to Rusty,” Jace said. “I can try to fix it.”

The idea of Jace shirtless and sweaty under my car wasn’t exactly unpleasant.

“Thanks. I hadn’t thought to ask you. I appreciate the offer.”

“When do you need to be at The Iguana?” Nathan asked.

“I have to leave now. I just need a ride there. Kellianne says she can drive me home.”

He looked over at the clock. “I can’t take you now. Someone’s coming in ten minutes to look at the lawn mower I’m selling. I can take you after, though.”

I frowned. “I’ll miss the beginning if I don’t leave now.”

“Why is that such a big deal?” Nathan asked. “It’s just a bunch of drunk people spewing dumb shit.”

“It’s not dumb. It’s captivating.”

Once a week, The Iguana held their open mic “Pour Your Heart Out” night, and I’d been obsessed with going as of late. Patrons—mostly somewhat drunk ones—were encouraged to get on stage and reveal anything they wanted to a room full of strangers. It could be something they needed to get off their chest, or their deepest, darkest secret. You never knew what you were going to get. Some of the confessions were sad, things I could relate to after years of harboring the pain of my parents’ murder. Other times, it was a sexy secret. Some people held nothing back. It was definitely eighteen-plus. Even though I loved listening to it all, I hadn’t had the guts to get up on stage yet. Someday.

“I can take her,” Jace interrupted.

I inwardly celebrated.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it,” Nathan said.

Jace stood up from the table and tossed the pistachio shells he’d accumulated on a paper napkin into the trash.

He grabbed his keys from the counter and threw them up in the air. “Let’s go.”

A surge of adrenaline coursed through me as I followed Jace outside to his shiny black pickup truck, parked in our driveway. It was almost 8PM, and the hot Florida air had started to cool down. A warm breeze blew around the palm trees in front of our house. We lived on a quiet street of similar-looking stucco homes. Our house was only one level, but it was pretty big in comparison to the other properties. We had three bedrooms and a large, screened-in pool in the back. Because the homeowners’ association was very strict, all of the houses were kept in good condition. Otherwise, you’d have to pay a fine. Members of the association drove by periodically and would send nastygrams if they so much as noticed the paint chipping. Fortunately, Nathan could fix pretty much anything himself.

The black leather seat felt hot against my skin. The truck was huge, too big for our small garage, which was where Nathan parked his little Hyundai. Jace always had to park outside in the heat.

He started the ignition but didn’t back out, instead looking down at my navel. For a split second, I thought he might have been checking me out. “Put your seatbelt on.”

Well, now I feel dumb. “Oh.” I grabbed it and placed it over my chest before locking it in. “Sorry.”

I flinched when he wrapped his hand around my seat as he backed out of the driveway.

Did you think he was going to touch you, Farrah?

I had to giggle.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked as he drove down the road.

Wracking my brain, I made something up. “You know what they say about men with big trucks, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “That their vehicles are proportional to the size of their manhood? Yup. Live that every day.”

“That’s not exactly what I heard. But whatever you say.” I winked.

“Wiseass.” He laughed.

The smell of his cologne, mixed with the smallest hint of cigar, filled the air. He’d never smoked in front of me, but I knew he enjoyed the occasional cigar while he drove. I loved the smell of his truck, because it was basically the smell of him condensed into a small space. It was heaven.

If I’m coming across as a bit desperate for this man—well, I guess that’s right. But consider the fact that he was my very first crush. The crush. My only crush. Many years of unrequited longing had led me here. Also consider that he’s ten times more attractive now, having morphed into a full-on man. The additional fact that I was now actually old enough to entertain my fantasies didn’t help. I didn’t want to want him. I just did. He was the last person I should’ve been setting my sights on, because this was futile. But you can’t choose who you’re attracted to.

We drove in silence for a couple of minutes until I said, “Thank you for driving me. I appreciate it.”