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He gives me a look of concern, but he doesn’t question my ability to drive as I get acquainted with this beast. With any vintage car, you have to learn it. They all have a sweet spot in gears.
“We’re going to a bar called The Garage. It’s not that far from here,” he says, glancing out the window.
“I know where that is,” I tell him. “They have a Chevelle hanging from the ceiling. I’ve been there a few times. Doesn’t seem like your type of place.”
“There’sa lotabout me that would surprise you.”
I glance away from him.
“I take it you know a lot about vintage cars,” he says. “Most people wouldn’t give two fucks what kind of car is hanging in that restaurant.”
I coast in neutral to the stop sign as the engine purrs. I want to take her up on the highway and drive ninety with the windows down.
Before pulling away, I turn to him. “Kinda. My dad was into restoration. He had a 1927 Model T. We rebuilt it together when I was a teenager and drove it to vintage car shows. I’ve been around muscle cars all my life.”
“That’s impressive.” His eyes scan the street as I turn right.
We’re about twelve blocks away.
The sun sets over the distant buildings, and the sky transforms from orange to purple and eventually nightfall.
“I’ve never met a woman who can drive a standard,” he admits.
“That doesn’t surprise me. But you know, I’ve never met a guy like you who has a driver’s license.”
“Ouch. Youarefeisty.” He shakes his head. “It makes perfect sense.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Nothing.” He laughs.
“Nowyou’re quiet?” I’m confused.
He’s hot, then he’s cold. I don’t know how to read him.
“You’ll figure it out soon enough.”
The conversation comes to a lull, and my heart rate increases. It takes everything I have not to laugh because this is ridiculous. However, anytime I’ve been around this man, it’s been an unpredictable situation.
I place my left hand out the window, allowing the air to blow through my fingers.
“So, you’re from Texas?” he asks.
“Yeah, but how did you know that?” I glance over at him.
“I’ve made knowing everything about you my job,” he says. “You’ve become my new hobby.”
I shake my head. “For some reason, that doesn’t surprise me.”
“Do you miss it?” His tone is sincere.
“Sometimes.” I think about the circumstances that made me leave. “Like right now, I miss being unable to hit an open road and drive this car as fast as possible. I love New York, but … there’s no place like home. Valentine is special.”
He nods and turns back to me. “I think you belong here.”
For a moment, it’s like a dream.
“You seem different today.”