Page 49 of Drive

He couldn’t be that asshole. Not Reid. But maybe he was that asshole. Maybe that night was the cause of the guilt that weighed on his back. His anger went inward. It was plain as day.

“She loved him with all her heart, and he hung her out to dry. Is that the kind of guy you want to get involved with?”

I swallowed hard. “He hates himself for it.”

“And that’s the only reason I don’t hold it against him. He’s trying to make it right, but make no mistake, Stella, that’s who heis.”

“That’s not who he is. It’s amistakehe made. God, do you hear yourself? With friends like you—”

“Don’t you dare,” she warned. “He’s got problems, Stella, and he’s truly trying to straighten his life out. Neil and I are behind him, always, but he’s not for you.” She sighed as she watched me absorb her words. “Just let it go, okay?”

“Okay,” I said with a lead tongue.

“Okay, I’ll clean the rest of this up in the morning,” she said as she walked up to me and hugged me tightly to her, a rare show of affection. “I don’t want to fight. I love you.”

I hugged her back. “I love you, too.”

“All bullshit aside, tonight was fun, right?” She pulled away and gave me a genuine smile that reminded me of our mother. “It was.”

“See, I’m not so boring.” She winked.

“I didn’t say you were,” I defended as she closed her bedroom door behind her. My mind was racing as I began to clear out the rest of the trash. No matter what angle I looked at, as far as what Reid had done, I couldn’t for any reason justify it, and I guess that’s where his misery lay. He couldn’t, either. As I scrubbed the counters and floors, I couldn’t stop the racing, the pacing. I was beyond exhausted, but I kept working until the apartment was spotless, only finding sleep when the sun had fully risen and was peeking through the blinds.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Say Goodbye”

Dave Matthews Band

I didn’t see Reid in the back seat the next week, and I didn’t bring him lunch or dinner. I missed his first show, even though Paige and Neil went. At work, I stayed mostly to myself, and on shifts we were scheduled together, we managed to avoid each other aside from shared trips to the kitchen. I caught his eyes on me only once when he’d cashed out and was ready to leave. I gave him my full attention, curious about the words that didn’t pass his lips. He left without saying them, and I let my heart sink comfortably in the disappointment. Despite all my attempts to forget him, he lingered on my mind, in my thoughts. The man had barely touched me, but every time he was near, I rattled. Even in the silence between us, my heart vibrated on edge, and deep need gnawed in my gut. I’d never in my life strongly reacted to another person the way I did Reid. It felt surreal, exhilarating, and exhausting.

After a week and a half, Reid showed up to Paige’s apartment for dinner. I was perched on the couch, earbuds in, laptop open, writing an article on Dave Matthews. “Say Goodbye” drifted through my earbuds attached to my iPod while I tried my best to completely ignore the three of them. Paige and Neil worked together in the kitchen while Reid sat on the end of the couch opposite of me, his eyes straight ahead on theTV.

Taking controlled breaths, I concentrated on the introduction, with its unpredictable bongos and pairing flute, then cranked up the volume as Dave sang a six-minute, lyrical sex poem about friends becoming lovers.

He cut his hair too short.

Since Matthews’ debut album,Under the Table and Dreaming, in 1994, the band crushed the issue of the sophomore slump and sped past it, composing consistent billboard albums and an unpredictable string of hits.

Why in the hell does he use so much soap? I’m so tempted to take a bite of Irish Spring.

South African-born Matthews’ unique voice backed by the colorful contrast of guitar, bass, sax drums, and fiddle has led to a unique cult following—a much more hipster version of Jimmy Buffett’s Parrotheads.

His arm is so pale.

With last year’s solo album,Some Devil, which went platinum and earned him a Grammy with the single “Gravedigger,” Dave has managed to push past the commercial—OHFUCKME,WHYISREIDCROWNESOGODDAMNEDSEXY?!

I miss him. Why do I miss him?

Slamming my laptop shut, I caught the attention of every eye in the apartment, including the green-tinted dark eyes I’d been missing. Plastering a fake smile on my face, I said a curt “Hi” to Reid as Paige looked over at me with a frown. “Words aren’t coming?”

Oh, I had words, too many damn words. “No. I’m going for a walk.”

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Paige said as she looked at my bare legs. I had on a solid black pair of thigh-high boy shorts and a long T-shirt that was hitched over my ass. I walked over to my duffle and pulled a pair of khaki shorts on over them. I was a total mess. My dark hair was piled on my head and held with an I-don’t-give-a-shit-if-it’s-2005 scrunchie. I managed to find that little treasure in Paige’s bathroom while I scrubbed it like the Cinderella I’d become.

At least Cinderella had a ball to look forward to.

“Just save me a plate,” I said, avoiding the watchful eyes of the beautiful bastard on the couch. “I’m not hungry.”