Waiting for Perfect (22 page)

KENDRA

Somebody kill
me.
 
Put an arrow through my heart
to end the misery.
 
I tried to
convince myself I never had feelings for Sebastian, but seeing him kiss Megan
crushed me.
 
I didn’t realize until
that moment that I felt something for him.
 
I watched them make out in the parking lot, and I was
paralyzed with grief.
 
When he saw
me, and came running, I was barely able to get my feet moving.

I know it was pointless
for me to hope for anything with Sebastian.
 
The guy is amazing – gorgeous, athletic, easy-going,
funny.
 
Did I ever think he could
want me?
 
I have nothing to offer
him.
 
He’s all about having a good
time, and I have more issues than he would ever want to deal with.

He made it a point
to apologize to me, but I don’t know why.
 
He probably felt sorry for me.
 
I needed to get away from him before I did something stupid like start
crying.
 

I’m an idiot!
 
How could I let myself fall for that
guy!
 
I knew he would hurt me.
 
We weren’t even together, and he hurt
me!
 
I need to get over this.
 
I have to study stupid physics in a
half hour.

Trying not to cry
like a freaking baby, I walk the track for what seems like forever, waiting for
Nick to get out of Spanish.
 
When I
finally hear the bell ring, I rush to the library where we’re supposed to meet.

I clear my throat
and push back my tears.
 
With my
chin held high, I strut through the doors and find the other Veneto.
 
He’s sitting with his back to me at the
far end of the library.
 
I walk up
to his table and plop down on the seat across from him.

He snaps his head
up, startled by my brusque arrival.
 
“Kendra?
 
Hi.
 
Is everything okay?
 
You look… upset.”

God, he’s so
nice.
 
Gentle.
 
He won’t hurt me.
 
“Let’s get out of here,” I say.

He looks
confused.
 
His eyes are ringed in a
fine line of black eyeliner, making his dark eyes even darker.
 
After a moment, he slams his book shut
and stares at me from across the table.

I reach for his
hand and stand up, pulling him along.
 
“Let’s go.
 
I can’t study
right now, Nick.
 
I’ve got to get
out of here.
 
Will you come with
me?”

He shrugs.
 
“Uh, sure, Kendra.
 
What happened?
 
Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere,” I say.
 
“Anywhere but here.”

I pull him by the
hand out the library doors and toward my car in the parking lot.
 
I’m utterly relieved when I don’t see Sebastian
anywhere.
 
I don’t think I could face
him right now.

Nick and I get in
my car.
 
I almost fishtail out of
the parking lot in my hasty exit.
 
Once we’re on Oso Parkway and headed away from the school, I slow down
to a normal speed.
 
I don’t want to
freak out Nick.
 
I take a deep
breath to calm myself and then turn down the volume on the radio.

I need to say
something to Nick.
 
He probably
thinks I’m losing it.
 
Maybe I
am.
 
“So why don’t you have a car?”
I ask, trying to get my mind off the player that just destroyed me.

Nick hangs his head.
 
“I don’t have my license yet.”

I glance over to
him.
 
“What?
 
Seriously?”

He nods.
 

I instantly feel
bad, like I’ve offended him.
 
“Oh.”

“I never learned,”
he continues.

“Really?”
 
I watch him, but he doesn’t say
anything.
 
This could actually be
the perfect distraction from Sebastian.
 
“Well then, we’ve got to get you driving.”

I head toward Coto
de Caza, a gated community that has very little police presence and is a
perfect place to learn how to drive.
 
That’s where Derrick taught me to drive when I was fifteen.

“I don’t think so,
Kendra.
 
I still need to go to
driving school and everything.
 
I
don’t want to kill us both.”

I laugh.
 
“You won’t!
 
It’s easy.
 
And
you’re brilliant.
 
You’ll pick it
up in no time.”

When we get through
the guard gate – my name is on the permanent entry list because Lexi
lives in this neighborhood – I take us down to the old Tennis Club.
 
It was built in the 1960s and was
visited by the likes of Richard Nixon and John Wayne.
 
It’s a historical-looking property nestled among tall trees
and adjacent to the neighborhood’s equestrian center.
 
There’s very little traffic in this older part of Coto, and
I think it will be the perfect place for Nick to get behind the wheel.

I pull in a parking
stall and leave the motor running.
 
I open the door and climb out, motioning for Nick to do the same.
 
We cross paths at the hood of my car,
and he gives me an unsure look.

When he’s settled
in the driver’s seat and me in the passenger’s, I say, “Okay, you need to
adjust the seat to fit you.
 
You
are way taller than me.”
 
He moves
his hand to the side of the seat so that it moves to fit his long legs.

“Then you want to
check all the mirrors to make sure you can see everything going on around you.”

He sits motionless,
looking to me.
 
“Kendra, I’m not so
sure this is a good idea.”
 
His
voice is wavering.

I give him a
reassuring smile.
 
“Nick, you’re
going to be fine.
 
Trust me.
 
We’ll take it slow.”

He nods and adjusts
the rearview mirror to his liking.
 
“Okay, then.
 
Let’s do it.”

“That’s the
spirit.
 
Okay, put your foot on the
brake and put the gear into Reverse.”
 
He does what I tell him.
 
“Now ease your foot off the brake slowly, and you’ll start backing
up.”
 
We start reversing.
 
“Turn the wheel so that we are facing
that direction.”
 
I point toward
the parking lot exit.

He cranks the
steering wheel as he proceeds with backing up, and then hits the brake.
 
“Okay, now Drive?”

I nod.
 
“Yep.”

He puts the gear
into Drive and eases his foot off the brake until we’re moving slowly through
the parking lot.
 
When he taps the
gas pedal, the car jerks forward, and my head hits the back of my seat.
 
He slams on the brakes.

“Sorry.
 
Shit!”

I laugh.
 
“Don’t worry.
 
This is a sports car.
 
The gas is a little touchy.
 
Try again.”

He does.
 
This time, he presses the pedal lightly
until we’re cruising smoothly through the lot.
 
He turns the wheel and applies the brake when we approach
the exit.
 
Pulling out of the turn,
he smoothly hits the gas again.

“You’re doing
awesome!”
 
I point left.
 
“Go that way.
 
We’ll go down through The Estates.”
 
The Estates is a track of homes in Coto
that is fit for millionaires.
 
All
the homes are multi-million dollar houses sitting amongst acres of land.
 
Some even have horse stables and tennis
courts.

We pull out of the
parking lot, and Nick relaxes a little.
 
He seems to know where he’s going, so I just let him do his thing.
 
He’s focusing intently on the road
ahead of him, braking and gassing so gently like he already knows how to handle
this Benz.

“You’re a natural!”
I say.

“Ha!
 
Not quite, but I’ll learn.”
 
He turns his head to look at me for a
split second and then trains his eyes back to the road.
 
“Thanks for this, Kendra.”

“No problem.
 
I’m enjoying being chauffeured
around.”
 
I giggle and make a fuss
about interlacing my hands behind my head and leaning back in the chair.

The truth is I
am
enjoying this.
 
I needed something to take my mind off
seeing Sebastian with his hands all over Megan.
 
The thought of it sickens me.
 
I’m not sure why I’m so upset.
 
It’s not like I’m surprised.
 
Megan had her sights set on him from day one.
 
And any man with a penis would be attracted
to that girl.
 
She’s beautiful.

I look over at
Nick.
 
His nearly black hair is
hanging over his eye, like usual.
 
The barbell in his eyebrow glistens in the sunlight coming through the
window.
 
He’s wearing faded grey
jeans and a black t-shirt with a white anarchy A printed on the front of
it.
 
My eyes dart to the leather
bands around his left wrist and the black ink tattooed above them on his
forearm.
 
The intricate script is
in a different language, as I suspected.

“I like your
tattoo.
 
What does it say?”

He half-smiles,
pulling up one corner of his lips.
 
“It’s in Spanish.
 
It says
‘Nada hay más surreal que la realidad’.
”

I’ve never heard
him speak Spanish before, and the sound of his accent stuns me.
 
It sounds incredibly sexy rolling off
his tongue, and I instantly want to hear more of it.

“It means ‘There’s
nothing as surreal as reality’,” he says.
 
“It’s a quote from Salvador Dalí.”

“The painter?” I
ask, remembering a painting of melting watches I once saw in a New York museum.

He looks at me,
surprised.
 
“Yeah.
 
I’m shocked you know that.
 
Not many people know who he is.
 
He was a Spanish painter from the early
twentieth century.
 
A
surrealist.
 
His work is
amazing.
 
Are you familiar with
it?”

I shake my
head.
 
“No.
 
I saw one of his paintings when I was
in New York.
 
I guess it left an
impression.”
 
I’m glad to have
something to talk to him about.
 
Obviously, he’s passionate about art.

He smiles
boldly.
 
“Dalí definitely leaves an
impression.
 
He’s one of my
favorites.”

“Well, I like your tattoo.
 
It’s true.
 
There’s nothing as surreal as reality.
 
I like it.”

My mind ponders my
life over the last month – from everything that happened with Ryan Morgan
to how in the world I ended up teaching Nicolás Veneto how to drive a car.
 
Very surreal.

While I’m busy in
my thoughts, I realize the car is slowing, and Nick is pulling us to the side
of the road.
 
“What’s up?” I
ask.
 
“You’re doing a great
job.
 
Keep going!”

He puts the gear
into Park and turns off the ignition.
 
“Nah, I have a better idea.”
 
He opens the car door and starts getting out.
 
“Come on.”

I get out and close
the door behind me, wondering what he has in mind.
 
We’re on the grassy side of the road by a huge estate.
 
Nick walks across the street, and I
follow him.
 
“What are you up to,
Veneto?” I ask playfully.

He gives me a
killer smile, his white teeth on full display.
 
“You’ll see.”

We walk on a dirt
trail behind more estates and horse stables.
 
The trail widens and then continues up a small hill.
 
After a few minutes, when we get to the
top of the hill, I stop to admire the view before me.