The Illusion of Annabella (14 page)

“Just before I picked you up?” His expression is unreadable.

“Yeah, it’s why I was walking down the road. And that’s probably where that cop was heading.”

“Interesting.” Musing over something, he turns up the volume of the stereo and drums his finger on top of the wheel to the faint sound of “Last Kiss” by Pearl Jam.

“Interesting?” I sit up straight in the seat, suddenly feeling very awake. But his nonchalant attitude isn’t what I was expecting. “That’s all you have to say, after what I just told you?”

He lifts his shoulders, shrugging while watching the road. “What do you want me to say?”

“How about ‘get out of the car.’ Or ‘I’m never talking to you again.’?”

“Why would I say that?” He seems to get his kicks and giggles off making me uneasy.

“Because you seem like a good guy who doesn’t get into trouble,” I say with a shrug. “And trust me, I’m trouble, even when I don’t mean to be.”

He presses his hand to his chest, feigning to be appalled. “How dare you accuse me of being a good guy? I thought we already established that I could be mean and that I know how to ass kick.”

“Yeah, that was more you saying that than me,” I say. “And I’m not joking. I really threw a rock through the window. Go back and look if you don’t believe me.” Why am I so dead set on him believing me?

“I totally believe you, but it’s not that big of a deal, and I don’t really think you’re trouble, even if you think you are. Although, I’m really curious why you threw the rock.” He watches me, testing my reaction.

My eyes narrow into slits. “Because I can’t stand the guy who lives there.” I bite down on my tongue as soon as I say it. What am I doing? Pouring out my secrets to him? Is this who I am now? Blabbering, semi-drunk Annabella.

His curiosity piques. “Why can’t you stand him?”

“No reason. Forget I said that.” When he doesn’t say anything, I flop back in the seat. “Can we talk about something besides my anger issues?”

“Sure, but FYI, this is the second subject change I’ve given you, so you owe me,” he says with a straight face, so I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not. “What do you want to talk about?”

I sweep my hair out of my eyes. “Anything, just as long as it has nothing to do with me.”

“Hmmm . . .” He taps his finger against his lip. “Did you know that Pearl Jam had five different drummers?”

“I actually did,” I say, confused by his choice of subject, but in the best way possible.

“Ah ha! I knew it.” He points at me, grinning from ear to ear.

I jolt in the seat, glancing around, startled. “Knew what?”

“That you liked classic rock. That the emo rock thing you were listening to earlier was just a cover up, like the purple hair.” He rests his hands on the steering wheel, smiling proudly.

“You’re so far from being right it’s not even funny,” I say, but it feels like a whopping lie.

 “No, I’m so close to being right it’s frightening.” He winks at me, and I have to catch my breath.

We stare each other down, and then he busts up laughing, his eyes crinkling around the corners. His laughter is contagious, and I find myself plagued by it. A laugh tickles at the back of my throat, begging to come out, and I bite down on my lip, desperate for a subject change. I could try to kiss him as a distraction, but considering how madly my pulse beats just contemplating the idea of our lips pressed together, I don’t think it’s a wise idea. Luca clearly isn’t Miller and isn’t going to give me that same numbing sensation I seek when I kiss him.

“Why’d you guys really move here?” I sputter suddenly.

His laughter vanishes in a heartbeat. “My mom already told you why.”

I fiddle with a frayed hole in the knee of my jeans. “But it kind of seemed like maybe there was another reason.”

“Like what? We’re really criminals on the run?” he jokes flatly. “You really want to know, because I’m not really supposed to tell anyone.”

I hesitate. Do I really want to know more secrets? “I’m not sure.”

The conversation screeches to a halt when three more squad cars fly by, red and blue lights flashing. Luca curiously looks at me again, but doesn’t ask questions. I wouldn’t have answers even if he did. I’m as clueless as he is as to why on earth there’d be that many cops responding to a broken window.

“If you’re not sure, I think I’ll keep it to myself.” He focuses on the road. “So, how cool is it to own a bookstore? I think it’d be pretty freakin’ cool. Well, unless you don’t like to read. But in that case, I think I’d have to kick you out of my car.”

And the conversation spins right back to me again
.
“Fine, I really want to know why your family moved here.”

“Are you sure you’re sure? Because I got a whole bunch of fun music facts I could share with you.” He stares at me with hope in his eyes.

I’m twistedly glad that he’s the uncomfortable one now. “Nope. Fess up. What’s the real reason?”

He cracks his knuckles against the steering wheel. “Fine, but just for the record, I’m only doing this because it’s pretty clear you don’t want to talk about yourself, and since I’ve pretty much got you all figured out, I know I’m making you really uncomfortable.”

I open my mouth to protest, but shut my trap when I realize arguing is exactly how he wants me to react. “You’re clever, but I’m not going to fall for your subject-changing tricks this time.”

“Dammit, I’m going to have to come up with new tricks now.” He massages the back of his neck, sighing. “My mom wasn’t lying. She really did want a change of scenery.”

“But there was more to it than that,” I guess, sticking my hand into my pocket to silence my phone as it vibrates.

“A lot more. And most of it has to do with my sister.”

“But I thought you were an only child?”

“That’s the story my mother’s been feeding everyone, but my dad found out this morning and got super pissed, so now she’s switched it to she does have a daughter who’s away in college.”

“I’m guessing she isn’t in college, though?” My phone rings again, and I shut it off, knowing it’s probably Loki calling to scold me.

Luca laughs, but the hollow noise sends goosebumps sprouting across my flesh. “Not even close.”

I start to ask where she is, but trail off as he turns into the only twenty-four hour gas station in Honeyton. “What’re you doing?”

He parks in a vacant spot close to the entrance and flips off the headlights. “I need a caffeine and sugar run.”

I squint at the red, slightly burry numbers on the dash. “Right now? It’s almost midnight? Don’t you need to be home,” I say, because it feels like we’re hanging out now. If I wanted to do that, I would’ve called Cece.

He grips the door handle to get out. “Says the girl wandering down a dirt road just thirty minutes ago.”

I slouch back in the seat. “But I really need to get home.”

“I’ll only be, like, five minutes.” He hops out and glances back into the cab. “You can come in if you want or sit out here, but I’m not bringing you anything.” A challenge dances in his eyes as he closes the door.

I stubbornly stay in the seat. But my stomach grumbles, reminding me that about an hour ago, I emptied its contents into the grass.  I’m starving and candy sounds so good right now. And maybe a soda to wash the bitter taste out of my mouth.

Blowing out an exasperated breath, I climb out and limp into the store. The florescent lighting stings at my eyes as I pass the cash register and stroll down the candy aisle. The cashier, a girl who’s around my age, watches me like a hawk, and I avoid eye contact with her, praying to God that I don’t know her.

Luca strolls up to me as I’m assessing the candy options, my attention bouncing back and forth between M&M’s and Snickers, two of my favorite candies. In fact, I used to eat them together all the time, taking a bite of chocolate and chasing it with a handful of M&Ms.

“So, what’s your poison?” Luca asks. He has a fountain drink in his hand, and as usual, he’s grinning. “No wait. Never mind. I know what it is.”

“Are we talking drinks or what? I ask with an arch of my brow.

“Don’t pretend like you’re a bad girl,” he says. “You’re not, and you knew I was talking about candy.”

His bluntness makes me lose my footing, and between that and the fact that I’m still a little drunk, I can’t think of a comeback.

My gaze slides to him. “There’s no way you could know what my favorite candy is.”

He grins goofily at me. “Yet, somehow, I magically know exactly what you’re about to pick.” He nudges my shoulder. “Guess I’m just super perceptive.”

I cross my arms and stare him down. “Alight, Mister Perceptive. What was I about to pick?”

He slurps his soda, staring at me. “What do I win if I get it right?”

“Anything you want.” I play along since there’s no way he’s going to get it right.

“Okay, you’re on.” He reaches for my hair and tugs on a strand. “You were about to pick Skittles.” Before I can shake my head, he says, “I’m just kidding.” When I roll my eyes, he adds, “Sorry, but I couldn’t help it. I’m going to be serious now.”

I widen my eyes and gasp in mock shock. “You know how to do that?”

“I do actually,” he quips, handing me his soda. He cracks his knuckles then he rubs his hands together as he carefully assesses the candy choices. With a dramatic flair, he lifts his hand and swirls it around in a circle above the candies before scooping up a bag of M&M’s.

“Dammit.” I don’t mean to say it aloud. “How the heck did you get that right?”

He holds up a finger. “Just a sec.”  He also grabs a Snickers. “I think these were what you wanted, right?” He presents the candies to me in the palms of his hand, like he’s giving me prizes.

I grunt as I grab them. “Okay. Fess up. How’d you know?”

A cocky grin spreads across his face as he takes his soda from my hand. “Because I’m a mind reader, obviously.”

“Well, obviously.” Sarcasm drips from my voice, thick like honey. “No, seriously, how’d you know?”

He grabs a pack of gum. “No way. I’m not telling you my secret.”

I lean against the shelf as my leg starts killing me. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s completely fair. And it’ll drive you just crazy enough that you’ll want to hang out with me to find out how I’m so clever.” He picks up a Twix and turns it over in his hand.

“I highly doubt you’re that hard up for friends. And if you are, go hang out at the football field during lunchtime. That’s where almost everyone our age hangs out, even during break.”

“See, that’s why I need you to be my friend.” He snatches up a bag of Skittles, winking at me. “You know all the ins and outs of this town.”

“They’re not that hard to learn.” I rub my eyes with my free hand as another spurt of dizziness hits me like a bag of bricks. “There’s probably a total of three.”

He selects a few more snacks. “Yeah, but this place is kind of intimidating.”

“You lived in L.A. How the hell could Honeyton be intimidating?”

“Because everyone knows everyone here, which makes it hard to find people wanting new friends.” He glances at the stash of candy in his hand then skims the shelf again.

I gape at him. “Are you seriously getting more?”

He gives me an innocent look as he reaches for a bag of chips. “What? I’m a guy. I get hungry.”

I eyeball all the junk food he’s holding. “Dude, even someone with the worst case of the munchies wouldn’t eat all that crap at once.”

“Speaking of munchies. Your eyes look super bloodshot right now.”

“I’m just tired.” I blink a few times to hydrate my eyes.

He brushes by me and heads for the register. “It’s okay if you are. I’m not judging you. I just thought I’d let you know so you don’t get in trouble when you get home.”

“I’m not high,” I protest, trailing after him.