All In My Head (First Tracks Book 1) Page 9

  “I see you!” My eyes flew open. It was just the freeway lying out before me and that damn blank sky. The image was gone.

  “Marcus?”

  I felt him around but he didn’t say anything. My hand was still touching my face. Feeling like an idiot, I jerked it away.

  Bam.

  I jumped so hard I was surprised I didn’t hit the ceiling. Nash was leaned over outside the passenger door, his knuckles against the window, ready to tap again. I hit the unlock button. At least that worked. He wore a black jacket, dark gray shirt, and black pants, like he should be walking around in rainy Seattle or New York. Not Hippie-and-Beatnik-ville here in Oregon.

  “Hey, you okay?” he asked, sitting down but not closing the door. Had he seen? My face flooded with heat. I could clearly picture my freckles standing out in contrast.

  “Yes, I’m good … it’s the car.”

  “If you pop the hood, I’ll take a look.”

  I nodded and pulled the little lever. Nash stepped back out and walked to the front, where I couldn’t see him once he put the hood up.

  I felt let down, but couldn’t figure out what I’d been expecting. For him to touch my face like Marcus just did? It was so ridiculous. I felt like crying.

  “How did you do that?” I whispered to Marcus.

  Which part?

  “Why are you playing games? How did you touch me like that?”

  Dunno.

  “Did you see yourself?”

  While I waited on Marcus, Nash dropped the hood and got into the passenger seat. He closed the door this time, damping the traffic noise.

  “It looks like a spark plug broke loose. Does your insurance cover towing?”

  I wasn’t sure and motioned to the glove compartment. “My card’s in there. I can check.”

  Nash looked the card over before handing it to me. “Doesn’t look like it.”

  I called and confirmed that I didn’t have any kind of towing coverage, then Nash googled a nearby towing service and called.

  “Thanks for coming out here,” I told him. “I guess I didn’t need you to.”

  That’s what I said!

  Nash turned in his seat, pinning me with those dark eyes. “I’m glad you called.” He surprised me then by reaching over and covering my hand with his. I moved my hand and his fingers slipped between mine.

  Can someone get me out of here?

  It was all I could do to look back into Nash’s eyes like I wasn’t hearing Marcus throw a hissy fit.

  Hissy my ass. How would you like to be stuck in my head while I got all hot and heavy with some chick? Huh? Or maybe we should try that. You like girls?

  This isn’t Fifty Shades of Pink.

  “You must have caught up on class work,” Nash said. I think he was fishing for something to say in the silence. It was on the verge of getting awkward but I couldn’t get Marcus to shut up.

  “Just about,” I lied, because I hadn’t done much of anything.

  Why lie about it?

  I thought we were going to fall back into silence when Nash cleared his throat and said, “I’m a bit confused about if you like me or not.”

  “I’m sorry if I’ve been sending mixed signals.” Actually, I was sorry that Marcus was complicating this. I hadn’t been mixed up at all, but how could I explain this to Nash?

  “If you don’t like me, just tell me, okay? If that’s the case, I’d rather know than worry that you’re leading me on.”

  “I’m not leading you on.”

  She’s just out of her mind, is all.

  “So there’s not anything else going on?” Nash asked with a slight shake of his head, fishing like he didn’t believe me. I wasn’t sure what he meant. Maybe he had a hunch about something, although he didn’t look suspicious or hurt. I wanted to get lost in his dark eyes and forget about Marcus for a minute. Just a minute. Was that asking too much?

  Tell him you’re working through some stuff.

  What? Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. So I tried it. “I just have a few things to work through.”

  Nash laughed, surprising me. I pulled my hand back.

  “No, I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just, that sounds like something a guy would say.”

  Nice. Thanks a lot, Marcus.

  Hey, just trying to help.

  Really?

  I glanced behind us, looking for the tow truck. Suddenly Nash raked a hand through his hair, exhaling, then glanced in the little mirror on his sun visor to fix it. “I didn’t mean for that to sound mean. I keep saying the wrong thing. And I’ve been feeling like I read you wrong. You know? We haven’t talked much at all this week, and …”

  “You didn’t,” I said, trying to think fast. He must have taken it wrong when I didn’t kiss him the other night. “I’m just dealing with some emotional stuff …” Too bad Marcus hadn’t elaborated on that story.

  “Like a broken heart?”

  Those words sounded foreign coming from Nash’s mouth. Maybe that would work, except there hadn’t been anyone since Kyle. Nash glanced out the back window and said, “There’s the tow truck.”

  He got out. I waited for traffic to pass so I wouldn’t feel too close to the moving cars, so by the time I walked back to the tow truck driver, Nash was explaining what happened with the engine. It sounded like French to me.

  French? Peut-être que tu voudrais cinquante nuances de rose en français.

  I stopped a few steps back from Nash. What was that?

  I said, maybe you’d like Fifty Shades of Pink in French.

  “You speak French?”

  Si je parle français? Mais oui, un peu.

  Of course I didn’t understand his answer, but it answered my question. Another clue, and a good one! That, and seeing some of what he looked like, but I wasn’t sure how I could search for a person based on their eye color and hair. Wait. Yes I did.

  Nash turned toward me. “So he’ll take it from here, and I can take you back to your house.”

  I was reeling from my discovery but managed a smile. “Sounds great.”

  Not going to get a quote or anything?

  Oh. I introduced myself to the driver—Tony—and asked about his fees. It was less than I thought because we were so close to his shop.

  Don’t leave the guitar.

  Seriously?

  GET IT!

  Nash was walking back to his car—a practical gray Subaru station wagon that looked like a hand-me-down from his parents. He’d parked far enough back that the tow truck had parked between our cars.

  “Wait, Nash, I want to grab my things from the trunk.” I grabbed my bag and the guitar and hurried back to join him. I saw his gaze hit on the instrument.

  “You play?” he asked when I set it in the backseat.

  I shut the back door without answering, even though it felt rude. What was I going to say? I got in the front seat and buckled up. “I started learning as a kid, but I haven’t touched a guitar in years. I bought it on a whim, I guess. I might give it a try again.”

  “I’ve always admired people who can play music. Singing is a natural talent, but I’m not sure it comes naturally to be able to play a guitar. There’s a lot of learning.”

  Well, not in this case.

  We pulled out into traffic, and while I didn’t feel good about thinking it, I was glad it was a short drive back to my house. I needed to sort this out.

  “So, tonight …” Nash glanced over.

  Tonight. Yes, tonight. We’d made tentative plans through texting. “Do you want to come over about six?”

  “Sure.” He flashed a quick smile—his quick and small smile that didn’t show any teeth, the one I’d taken for flirty all this time. Maybe that was as big as he ever went with it.

  I wanted to explain that I needed to finish up a few things, but apparently he did too. Neither of us explained why we didn’t just spend the rest of the day together. I got so busy analyzing that—while Marcus mumbled about it—that I was surprised
when we pulled up to my house.

  “Thanks again, Nash.” I turned to him to say sincerely, “I really appreciate your help.”

  “Anytime. I mean it.” He started to lean closer to me. As I leaned to meet him, I felt my hand reach back and grab the door handle. The door popped open and Nash froze. I all but felt Marcus dragging me out of the car.

  “I’ll talk to you soon?”

  “Sure.” His voice sounded deflated, but he held my gaze for a second and then I climbed out, grabbed the guitar, and walked to the door. After I let myself in, he drove off. I paused by the living room window to watch his car leaving, touching my lips. I’d completely blown it. Marcus had ruined it for me.

  I couldn’t do it, Ave.

  “You’re not! I am. And I want to kiss him. I’ve been dreaming about kissing him the entire school year and you just blew it for me.”

  “Hey, Ave,” Dawn said from down the hallway.

  I turned slowly, trying to act natural. Her face didn’t give anything away if she’d heard me. She went into the kitchen.

  “Hey … homework to do,” I said as I rushed to my room and locked the door behind me. I couldn’t kiss Nash—I couldn’t even act normal around my friends anymore. We had to do something to change this.

  After setting the guitar down on the bed, I opened my laptop and googled, “Missing man with blue eyes and blond hair.”

  Babe, you think it’ll be that easy?

  “Don’t know,” I told him quietly, just happy he didn’t say anything more about Nash. There were a few news stories but the top link was a Pinterest Board of missing people. We have a winner!

  More like thousands of pictures. What the heck is this site?

  “You haven’t heard of Pinterest? It’s where you pin all your favorite things from online. You know, recipes, flower pics, favorite books—”

  Girly stuff. Okay, got it. But what’s this?

  I scrolled down the page and still wasn’t anywhere close to the end of it. There were literally thousands of photographs of missing people.

  A little girl, maybe four, with huge brown eyes.

  An elderly man, grinning so broadly his eyes were squinted shut.

  A boy’s school picture in a red shirt—maybe fourth grade.

  A toddler with blond baby curls and play keys in her hand.

  A teenage girl with long, brown hair and a beautiful smile.

  There were lots of little girls, school-age girls and women. More faces than I could handle thinking about. All of these people were missing?

  Marcus backed away in my mind.

  Too bad I couldn’t back away and forget this. Tears stung my eyes. I like to people watch and create stories about strangers, and that was kicking in now in a painful way. How many people were waiting for news? My stomach soured as I thought about where these little girls could be. All these missing women. One little girl looked a lot like Kristina. Another woman reminded me of my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Collins. There are so many ugly things in life that I can’t do anything about. I’d learned that cold, hard truth when my parents died.

  I wrapped my arms around myself, but it suddenly felt like Marcus was doing it. I closed my eyes and felt a tear roll down each side of my face. Normally I’d be embarrassed—I never cry in front of people, but Marcus was different. And this time, he didn’t even ask why.

  I let the tears dry before getting back to work. This was a problem I could work on. I could find a solution if I just kept at it. There weren’t too many missing men, especially close to my age. But why did I assume Marcus was close to my age? His speech, mostly, and all the active things he liked to do. Even if I looked at a wide age range, say eighteen to thirty, there were only three blond men that I spotted as I scrolled through. I kept going, and even tried to focus on the eye color more because hair color can change.

  “Do you see this picture?” I asked to get his attention.

  You think I look like that?

  I sighed. No, I didn’t. But it was the closest match I could find, based on the tiny bit I’d seen in my head. I tried searching in France for missing men and ran into the same kind of problems.

  Je veux vous montrer ce qu'est un vrai baiser se sent.

  I pulled in a breath, shivering. His voice became more lyrical when he spoke French.

  Do you mean sexy?

  “So, that’s your little trick for getting chicks.”

  Maybe. Maybe not.

  “Stop teasing and tell me what you said.”

  I said … I want to show you … what a real kiss feels like.

  I sucked in my breath, heat pooling somewhere it shouldn’t and spiking up my body. He chuckled softly at my reaction.

  “Stop! Nash is coming over in a while, and I need to get ready.”

  Oh, we forgot about Nash, didn’t we?

  “Listen, we just figured out several things about you. We might know what you look like, and that you speak French, and that you know nothing about working on cars, like Nash does.”

  Why don’t you go get ready.

  Chapter Eleven

  I stood in front of my mirror to spray leave-in conditioner in to my hair and brush it, all the time feeling Marcus appraise my appearance. I’d changed into a silver sequin tank top that made me look curvier and black skinny jeans. I loved the look. Marcus did too, and that was the problem. I couldn’t wipe the smirk off my face as I sensed his reaction. His very physical reaction.

  So who’re you trying to impress here?

  “Oh, I didn’t know it was an either or thing.” I smirked and waved my brush off-handedly.

  Christ. If only I had all my parts here so I could—

  “La-la-la-la!” I was not going to listen to that. “Think you could step out while he’s here? I can’t really spend time with him with you around.”

  Okay, so I’ll skip out for an evening … if we go for a bike ride tomorrow.

  “What if it’s raining?”

  Freaking A. Then we ride in the rain. It’s romantic.

  “Romantic my ass,” I said. “And I bought you a guitar, remember? You owe me this. Plus, I went running before that because you wanted to.”

  The doorbell rang. I hurried to answer it, ignoring the way Marcus all but whirled around and sulked. Weird that I could see his emotions like that. Weirder that I felt bad about it.

  When I opened the front door, Nash held out a single red rose, and we grinned at each other for a second. Then his gaze swept down over my outfit.

  Forget about it. He is NOT getting inside this shirt.

  Nash seemed as embarrassed as I felt and started stuttering something as I invited him in.

  Laughing, I stepped back and led the way into the living room. Inside, with better lighting, I saw he wore a green dress shirt under his jacket, with slacks. With his short hair and clean-shaven face, he looked smooth. So he’d gone home and gotten ready for our date.

  “Did you eat dinner yet?” he asked.

  “No, I didn’t … want to go grab something?” I looked in the kitchen for a vase, and of course we didn’t have one. I grabbed a tall kitchen glass and filled it with water for the rose.

  “Yes. I drove over. I thought we could go out to dinner.”

  “Sure. Sounds great. Let me grab my coat.” I headed back to my room, blocking Marcus out, while he made fun of everything about Nash. I pushed the door to my room almost shut.

  “You said you’d step out tonight!” I whispered barely above a breath while grabbing my coat. “Either back off, or there’s no bike ride for you tomorrow. And remember the guitar I just bought?”

  He was quiet … and remorseful, I think.

  I smelled the rose and closed my eyes for a second, enjoying the fragrance and the fact that a man had brought me a flower. My heart fluttered and I tried to pause time for a second, memorizing the sensation. I hadn’t felt like this since Kyle, and for a while I had worried I wouldn’t feel this way again. Yeah, yeah, I’m young and all. Plenty of fish out there.
But, sometimes I think there is such a thing as true love. My mom said that once she met my dad, she never even wanted to look at another man. She loved him while he went downhill … she loved him to the very end, saying she didn’t regret it. I did. With a sigh, I left those thoughts behind in my room.

  You just have no clue, Ave. You’re hot as shit and guys would line up to bring you flowers if you let them. I would love to bring you roses.

  I greeted Nash with another smile and we walked outside to his car, where he opened the door for me. Marcus sighed and backed off while I watched Nash walk around to his side and get in.

  As he drove down the street, he glanced over and asked, “So you’re feeling fully recovered from that concussion?”

  “I …”

  Do you think I’ll disappear as you get better?

  I laughed, a sudden, hysterical staccato. It smacked of panic to my ears, but I had no idea what Nash thought of my outburst. “Sorry, I … I don’t know. I’ve been feeling weird since then.”

  “Did you stop in at the nurse’s station?”

  “No, it’s not like that.” I stared out the window, face burning, wishing we could have avoided this topic tonight. “I … just had a bad day.”

  What the hell? Thought we had fun.

  Remember the crazy guy?

  Oh, yeah.

  Nash threw me a look and I realized he was waiting for more.

  “This guy said something to me and I gave him a dirty look. He deserved it. He’d said something about my … anyway, he cussed at me after that.”

  “What? Where was that?”

  “Between campus and the parking lot down the street. He didn’t look like a student.”

  “Wow, I’m really sorry to hear that. I can walk you back after class, you know. And you should report that.”

  “Oh …” I looked out the window, hiding my face. Was I fumbling everything or did it just feel like it?

  “What did you do to your hand?” Nash asked. My hands were on my lap, and I looked down, wondering what he meant. The knuckles on my right hand were bruising.