Shift by Ginger Scott
19
All I kept thinking as I followed the boys home at a painfully slow pace was how proud my dad would have been of the way Dustin handled himself.
He had every reason to lose his cool. I was mentally prepared for him to grab someone’s keys and speed off after those assholes to run them off the road, if only to pull that Aiden guy out of the car and pummel his face bloody.
Guns have never stopped Dustin from getting in fights. Hell, all of Camp Verde carries, and target practice sometimes happens in back yards around here. But Dustin didn’t even show an itch to retaliate.
Despite my best plea for him to park his car at our house and spend the night, he followed through with his own new rules about sleeping at my house. And as much as I missed him last night and worried about him sleeping in his car on two tires that won’t get him very far, I’m kind of relieved he opted out of my house now that I’m staring at my dad’s disgruntled, stoic face.
He was waiting downstairs for Tommy and me as we came down for breakfast. Mom, apparently, went to work early. I have a feeling she ran away to let my dad get this out of his system without her around getting “all emotional”—his common term when he’s in this sort of mood.
“Two a.m.” After ten minutes of silence while Tommy and I mill around the kitchen and pour cereal, eat said cereal, and move on to brewing coffee, this is my dad’s big opening line.
“I’m sorry?” Tommy says over his shoulder as he pours a cup of steaming caffeine bliss.
I wince as I sit across from my dad at the table. My brother knows exactly what he’s talking about. It’s the time we rolled in, on a school night. Which for Tommy isn’t a big deal because he’s eighteen. Personally, I think he gets different rules because of his penis, but whatever.
“Tell me you weren’t out with him, racing, at two in the goddamn morning,” my dad says, his voice a low boil as he flattens his palms on the table and slides them forward, along with the frame of his body, to narrow his gaze on me.
I hold my dad’s stare for a moment, letting the panic make its way through my chest so I can offer a smart response.
“Do you mean was I out with Tommy? My brother? Because, yes, I was.” I fold my arms over my chest and lean back in the chair. My dad’s thick eyebrows lower. I glance behind him to catch my brother now leaning against the counter, smirking as he takes a sip of his coffee. He loves it when I’m in trouble and not him.
“You know damn well what I mean!” My father’s hand comes up as he shouts, and he smacks the table to punctuate his sentence. I can’t help it. I flinch.
My heart is racing now, but it’s less about being in trouble. No, I’m indignant. My lips twitch with want and need to react, but I’m careful—thoughtful. I need to say the right words if I want to make a point. And I do want to make a point. One that won’t be flattering at all to my father, and I hate that because despite this very childish display, he’s still my best friend.
I swallow and relax my shoulders, letting my hands release their grip on my shirt as I slide back in the chair. Once I say what I am about to, I’m going to need to leave. It’s what will be best for both me and my dad.
“Unfortunately, I do know what you mean,” I say. My father lets out a breathy laugh, and I can tell he feels smug, maybe a little relieved. He’s not going to like the rest of what I have to say, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t need to hear it.
“You mean because I’m a girl, I can’t do the same things Tommy does. You mean you don’t trust me to make my own choices for who to love, or who to believe in. And you mean Tommy can still be friends with Dustin, but I can’t, because somehow . . . now . . . that’s different. Basically, Dustin’s never been family to you at all, which makes you kind of a liar.”
I push away from the table as my dad’s jaw shifts and his head tilts. I grab my bag and make my way to the door, ignoring his grumbling as well as my brother’s amused smile. I caught enough of that while I was making my speech.
I’ve never actually said the exact thing I wanted to say when the moment called for it, and my chest feels full and my body teems with an almost prideful energy. I guess my parents can ground me if they want, though Tommy and I have never been grounded once in our entire lives. I’d point out all of the times my brother’s gotten away with things far worse than driving down to the Valley on a school night.
“We’re not done with this conversation, Hannah.”
That’s the last of what I hear, though I’m sure my father had more to say. I wouldn’t say I slammed the door shut behind me, but I definitely made sure it closed. I get to my car and turn my music up loud enough to drown out the sound of my phone, and shoot my brother a quick text so he knows I’m picking Dustin up this morning and he’s taking Bailey to school.
As I pull away, I’m hit with a wave of sorrow. Maybe even a sense of mourning. If I knew the last time my brother and father and Dustin and I were all together was going to be the last, I would have appreciated it more.
Dustin is sitting on the back of his car, his hair wet, when I pull up. He hates showering at his parents’ house, but I guess he’s forcing himself to get used to it since the welcome mat to my place has been taken away.
The sight of him eases the ache that was beginning to fill my stomach and chest. One crooked grin as he shakes his head, flipping his hair from his eyes, and everything I said this morning and all of the battles that lie ahead become worth it.
Nobody will ever make my heart pound with love the way this boy can.
I turn so the passenger side is closest to him and roll down my window.
“Hey, goin’ my way?” I say, squinting against the sun.
Dustin’s mouth ticks up as he slides from the back of his car and picks up the backpack between his feet. He walks toward the open window in this slow, sexy way, then leans forward, resting his arm on the windowsill.
“Ma’am, I don’t care where you take me as long as I get to be next to you.” He winks to layer on the cheese, and while I laugh and call him stupid, I swoon a little too.
I pull onto the main road as Dustin buckles in. I don’t know what he’s going to do about his tires, but I don’t want to bring it up because he still seems so calm and happy. I know how important that car is to him, though. It’s more than just his way around. It’s his life’s work and a means to bigger ends. If Dustin can’t race, he can’t grow and get into the circuit.
“Have you checked to see if the scrap yard has hours again?” I ask. He doesn’t answer right away, and I mash my lips together, admonishing myself for bringing it up.
“They might have a weekend or two, yeah. I’ll ask,” he sighs out.
I glance his way with a smile, and I’m relieved when his is still in place. It’s not as relaxed as before, though. I added kindling for his anxiety, and now all I can think about is whether or not to apologize for it. I decide against it because it will only prolong the topic, so instead, I switch gears to something I have been dying to talk about.
“I’m going dress shopping with Bailey today after school,” I say. I glance at him again and laugh when I’m met with his wide eyes and exaggerated smile. I smack his thigh and he grabs my hand in both of his, pulling it to his chest and kissing my knuckles.
“I’m just kidding. I’m looking forward to prom. Truly. I cannot wait to see how hot you’re going to look.” His eyebrow flicks up and down with his words and I jerk my hand away.
“One track mind with you, Dustin,” I tease. My thighs tingle at the thought of his hand creeping up my leg in a short mini dress, though, so I decide that I’m definitely buying something short.
“Your parents still going to let you go with me?” he asks.
I bite my bottom lip and suck it in. Dustin shifts in his seat so he’s facing me more.
“Hannah? Your parents know I’m taking you to prom, right? Like, I can show up and pick you up and give you flowers and all that shit?”
My chest tightens.
“Uh huh?” I mutter. “I mean, yeah. Sure! Of course!” I smile through my bullshit, but it’s useless; Dustin sees right through my sad attempt.
“Hannah. Your parents have to be okay with this. I’m not sneaking you out for prom. Your dad would hunt me down and take me to one of those places in the middle of nowhere he likes to hike.” He twists back in his seat and runs both his hands over his face then through his hair, his thumbs pausing at his temples to rub small circles.
“I will tell them. We are going . . . together. And my mom will want pictures, even if my dad shakes your hand with a death grip. Prom is a non-negotiable.”
Dustin lets out a short laugh and shakes his head as I pull into the student parking lot.
“Okay, Banana. Whatever you say,” he jokes, getting out of the car and rounding to my side to wait for me.
I purse my lips at him when I get out. I can’t count the number of times he’s uttered that phrase to me over the years, and he always says it when he doesn’t fully believe me. I forgive him a little, though, when he slings his arm over my shoulders and pulls me in tight. And when his mouth covers mine—a display put on for every girl our age in Camp Verde—I forget his teasing doubt. One more kiss like that and I’ll completely let him off the hook for prom.