"High speed what?" I asked, glancing back to give him a puzzled look.
He opened his mouth to explain, when it dawned on him I was joking. "You always have to be a smart-aleck, don't you?"
We shared a smile.
I looked into his face and relished these minutes where I could ogle him selfishly. I knew I should give him the information he wanted from me now, but I could only stare. It took me a moment to notice his expression, though. His gaze had been roaming my face but had paused on my left ear. When he snorted out a surprised laugh, I frowned. He pointed a finger toward my hair. "Uh, I think the wind messed it up some."
I patted my head, my face flaming.
"Here," Luke said, and flipped down his visor, lighting up the mirror underneath. I looked up and groaned. Not only had the wind caught a hold of my hair and ripped it half out of its 124
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ponytail, it had also knotted and twisted it into a healthysized rat's nest. I tried to ignore the fact that Luke was sitting next to me—
and already knew exactly what the disaster looked like—and ripped the holder out of my hair. I combed through the mess with my fingers but there were knots everywhere. When I caught him staring again, I glared.
"What?" I demanded. But he continued to gawk. I patted at my hair and wondered what he could possibly be thinking about the mess.
"I've never seen it all down before," he said. Startled, I glanced back in the mirror. I'd seen it down millions of times. I just didn't leave the house with it loose. There was too much of it to let it run wild. I tried to see it how Luke must see it. It was curly—so curly it bobbed. Tight little curls framed my face like a border full of personality. From the corner of my eye, I saw Luke lift his hand toward one spiraling lock.
But when I turned to him, he lowered his fingers and shifted his attention out the window. I stared at his profile for a second, breathing hard.
"It's pretty," he said, more to the windshield than to me. I wanted him to lift his hand again. I wanted him to touch my hair.
"I think yours is prettier."
He laughed. "Guys do not have pretty hair."
"Well, yours is."
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I reached over and touched his hair. I thought maybe if I touched his, he might get the guts to touch mine. But at contact, I gasped.
"It's so soft."
I ran my fingers through the part that always curled around a cowlick when it got wet. I scooted over, leaning across the console between us.
"Carrie."
His voice sounded strained so I looked down. I hadn't realized I'd moved so close. But when I gazed into his face, we were only a breath apart. I was positioned a little above him so I could reach his hair. He lifted his face up to stare at me. His eyes were a blazing blue.
That's when he touched my hair. He drew his fingers through the curls to cup my head. Then he tilted his chin to the side and pulled me down. I was shocked when our mouths connected. He was kissing me.
Oh my God, Luke Carter was kissing me.
I didn't even think to close my eyes. Of all the times I'd imagined my first kiss, I never thought it would take me by surprise like this.
I stared at his face for a second, unable to move. And then I realized that maybe I should participate a little. I felt my lips soften and my lids slide shut. My hand rested on the side of his neck, and I kissed him back...and felt it all the way to my toes.
At that moment, I discovered where all of my erogenous zones were because they all became inflamed. It was like a tingle but with a hundred times the voltage. Luke's mouth slid 126
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sideways where his lips could be more accommodating. My ears buzzed. I thought I might blow a fuse with all the wattage flowing through my veins. When his tongue entered my mouth, I jerked back.
I don't know why I did. I hadn't wanted to put a stop to the kiss. This was my big moment. I was steaming up the windows with Luke Carter. But the shock of his tongue had knocked me flat. I hadn't been prepared at all. Not that it was bad. It was wet and warm and would have ended as the best kiss I was sure I'd ever have. Yes, it had been great, right until I'd messed up and jerked away.
I scuttled back to the passenger's side, banging my elbow on the gearshift as I fled. I still couldn't believe I'd pulled away from him. Pressing my back against the seat, I stared out the front window at the horizon, feeling like the loser I was.
The day was turning to dusk and the sunset was spread before me in a fierce glowing-orange-and-pink masterpiece. I wanted to soak into its wonder and appreciate the full beauty of that descending sun, but my throat was closing and my heart was sprinting, making my breathing, and in effect all thinking, too difficult to manage at the moment. I wondered what was going on inside Luke. What did he think of me? I'd started this by touching his hair and practically crawling into his lap. What other way could a healthy teenage boy react? It wasn't me—it was just the situation that had prompted his actions. Right?
I wanted to glance over and see how he was responding, just peek at his face. My eyes burned as I focused on seeing 127
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him out of my peripheral vision. I couldn't chance the thought that Luke could possibly be interested in me, Carrie Paxton. He'd just met up with a moment of insanity and...and kissed me. That's all.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice filled with a coarse regret. See, he hadn't meant to do it at all. But with my doubts confirmed, tears smeared my vision and the sunset blurred. I nodded.
I wanted to say, "I'm sorry," too. "I'm sorry I pulled away. So come back here and finish what you started." But I couldn't say that. A thick silence stretched across the interior of the car and filled it like a deadly vapor, almost smothering us to death.
Luke sighed. It was a long, solemn sigh I felt all the way to the pit of my stomach. I saw his arms reach out and rest on the top of the steering wheel. Behind us, a car passed on the dirt road leading back to Stillburrow. I looked back just in time to see the blue truck hurry by.
"That was Marty's truck," I said. I pressed my hands deep into my lap.
"I saw."
I glanced over at Luke then. His hair was still mussed from where I'd touched it. My fingers started to tingle, remembering the texture of each silken strand.
"I guess they're finished, huh?"
"I guess." Luke closed his eyes and rested his head on the backrest. I saw him swallow.
"Maybe you should take me home now." 128
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I said it timidly, but by the way it had Luke's head coming off the rest and his blue eyes narrowing at me, you would have thought I'd shouted it.
"What are we doing, Carrie?" he whispered—almost hissed. I shrugged. It seemed useless to point out that of the two of us, I had the least experience in this department. But Luke seemed to realize it soon enough and turned his head away with a bitter laugh. He leaned forward, set his feet on the clutch and the brake and turned the ignition. The car came to life, roaring under us. Luke stayed leaning forward. His head bowed a little as if he was straining to rest his cheek on the steering wheel. "Your parents are probably wondering where you are."