Any idea where the ice rink is? Sadie asked as she fiddled with the radio.
I think theres one down the road or something, JC said, fighting to keep his eyes on the road. Her fingers, ungloved and impatient, kept brushing his knee. Hed already stalled out his Jeep once at a stoplight because she took her hat off and shook out her hair. He didnt need to repeat that little humiliation.
Sadie turned to look at him, grinning. Thats helpful, genius. Should be easy enough to find. Just look for a mob of little kids.
Dressed in pink hats and blue jackets?
Sadie stuck her tongue out at him and turned back to the radio. He scanned the road, listening to the half-second blocks of music stuttering out of the radio. Youre worse than a guy with a remote.
Theres nothing good on. Freakin country stations.
Its all good, he said, and began singing the next song that popped up, making up words, singing whole verses of songs shed left behind minutes before. He was halfway through the second verse of Johnny Cashs Ring of Fire when his heart leaped into his throat.
His own voice was coming out of the speakers.
Im doin this tonight...
A moment later, a talk radio station replaced it; did she rest on that for a bit longer than the other stations? Did she know the song? If she knew the song, did she know him? He glanced at her fingers punching seek every five seconds, knee bouncing under her jeans. She couldnt be after him for that, could she? She was too damn much fun, too cool... too... face it, Josh, said a voice in his head. You want her, and you dont want her to know the first damn thing about NSync.
And then he remembered. NSync. Ice skating. Little kids.
No fucking way could he go to a crowded ice rink and not be recognized. He swallowed. How the hell was he supposed to get out of this?
Sadie finally landed on an 80s pop station. Janet Jacksons Nasty Boys. He burst out laughing as she broke into a finger-shaking, neck-popping rendition of Janet.
He turned to look at her and his breath stopped in his throat. Ridiculous. She was car-dancing, jamming to an old Janet tune, singing horribly off-key, hair bouncing on her shoulders, and he wanted nothing more than to stop the car, recline her seat and climb into her lap.
Watch it! she shouted, and he whirled around to see a very red light at a very busy intersection. He slammed on the brake, throwing them both forward, and was treated to a chorus of fuck yous from pedestrians and drivers alike. He pressed the clutch, turned around to back up, stalled out, and by the time he was behind the crosswalk, Sadie was wiping tears of laughter from her face and his face was aflame.
Drive much?
Stick shifts arent easy when youre distracted, JANET.
Distracted, schmacted. I think you left your transmission back in the parking lot of the hotel, anyway.
Shut up.
As she gave him the hand, he grabbed it and pinned it down onto the stickshift. The warmth of her hand heated his palm. Her fingers straightened with surprise, then curled around the knob of the shift. Her eyes fixed on their hands, entangled on the stick shift, and widened; a moment later her eyes rose to his face, and his grip tightened on hers. God, she was adorable. Dancing and their play-argument had brought color to her cheeks, and the pink highlighted the green in her eyes; she inhaled sharply when he squeezed her hand again, and he stroked his thumb across hers, relishing the soft ridges there.
Dimly, he heard horns blaring.
I think the light is green, she said, and her mouth sounded dry and parched; a moment later, she swallowed, and he watched her throat twitch, her tongue snake out of her mouth and lick her lips. Josh, she said, and he watched her lips form his name, how she puckered her lips just slightly to form the J sound, the hissing of the shhhh, and wondered if thats what shed look like when she called out his name in ecstacy. Say it again, he thought, and she did, louder, and he felt his pants tighten as she called his name: Josh! The light is green!
He blinked, shook his head, and heard the blaring horns. Green, indeed.
OK, then, he said. So lets drive.
He pressed the clutch, gripped her hand, and shifted into first, letting up on the clutch and depressing the gas simultaneously (screaming orgasms, his mind whispered). They moved forward through the intersection, and as they picked up speed, he hit the clutch, squeezed her hand, and at his prompting, she shifted into second, and third; soon they were out of town, past any hope of finding a skating rink, navigating the Sierra Nevada mountains and turns, his legs alternately pumping the clutch and gas as her hand shifted under his.
His erection became undeniable at this point; he didnt know if she noticed, but he didnt give a fuck anymore. He felt the warmth of her hand, sensed how she moved closer to him, crossed her legs toward him. He couldnt look at her, not with turns like these, with the narrow roads and precipitous cliffs around them. His eyes stayed locked on the highway curving out in front of them, trapped by the double yellow lines; he ground his teeth, flexed his jaw, anything to keep at least his visual concentration on the road.
Every other sense was occupied by Sadie. He smelled her shampoo, heard her breath hold on the tight turns, tasted the coppery flavor of adrenaline in his own mouth, and felt her hand, her small, strong hand, moving under his in flexes and barely perceptible adjustments. He never once told her when to shift; she waited for his left leg to depress the clutch, and he felt her hand tighten, ready the fingers for the coming movement, and then she pulled the shift into position, and his right leg answered her pull with flexing against the gas pedal.
He wanted to drive forever. Across Nevada, into Utah, into the Rockies, where the passes would be even more treacherous, the turns even sharper, where hed have to shift frequently and feel her hand tense again and again under his, over the knob of the stick.
Hed never been so turned on in his life.
When Sadie gasped, he almost drove off the road, but then his eye shifted from the double yellow line and to his left. Theyd reached the top of something; he had no idea whether they were in California or Nevada, how far theyd come, how long theyd been driving, but suddenly he saw what made her gasp: the blue blue sky reflected on the glassy surface of Lake Tahoe, mountains rising on all sides, trees dotting the coastline, white clouds skating across its surface. It took his breath away.
Josh... we have to pull over, she said, and he heard and understood the disappointment in her voice. They had to see this, experience it in the open air, but to pull over meant the spell inside the Jeep would be broken.
Still, though, she downshifted with him, and moments later, they parked and gazed through the windshield at the crystalline image thousands of feet below them. They sat in silence, listening to the engine tick, her hand still under his.
She loosed her grip on the knob, turned her hand over, linked her fingers with his and squeezed. He turned to look at her and a lump rose in his throat when he saw--awe? fear?--in her eyes.
Lets go look, she said. He gazed at her a moment longer, studying the fine line of her cheekbone, the curls that lay against it, and nodded.
OK, he whispered.
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