Solving for Ex (20 page)

I stopped and looked into the car window. “My favorite cake?”

“Almond with coconut butter cream. Yeah. I have my ways of finding these things out.”

I glared at him. “I didn’t even get a slice.” The wind blew against me and started a shiver that wracked my whole body. My arms wrapped themselves around my body even tighter. “You’ll take me straight home?”

A hint of that same old patient Vincent smile showed. “Anything you want.”

I slid into the car’s dark leather seat, and immediately warmed up—heated leather. Of course it was.

We rode in silence for a few blocks. “Seriously, how did everyone hear about that party? And why did people come expecting to drink?”

Vincent sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Sofia. She…as soon as we moved it to Brendan’s house, it’s like she went into attack mode. She texted everyone, and told them to text everyone. Told them his parents wouldn’t be there. She didn’t say ‘bring a keg,’ but she might as well have.”

“Why would she do that?” It was everything I could do not to tack the word ‘bitch” on to the end of the sentence.

He shrugged. “Brendan has a huge house. She’s trying to make friends. Wanted to show off her boyfriend’s digs, I guess. Got carried away.”

“Her boyfriend?”

“Yeah, I mean, they are going out, aren’t they? Please don’t tell me that you haven’t noticed they’re attached at the hip.”

“I’ve noticed,” I muttered under my breath. Brendan could say they weren’t together all he wanted, but as long as everyone thought they were, it didn’t make a damn bit of difference. I knew that better than anyone.

I blew out a long breath, trying to steady myself, trying to make normal thoughts turn into non-angry words and will them to come out of my mouth.

“Whatever.” He shrugged. “But, if it’s worth anything, I only did one shot. If I had wanted it to be a drinking party…”

“Yeah, okay. Mr. Thomas didn’t freak out or kill anyone, miraculously, and no one died, and no cops came, so I guess we couldn’t really hope for a better outcome.”

He definitely smiled at that. “My dad called him this morning. They got the insurance worked out. Full restoration of the car, on us, no questions asked.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” Vincent laughed. “I mean, it’s my Christmas and birthday presents until I turn thirty-five, but it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

He glanced over at me with that spark in his eyes. The one that was a little playful but mostly watchful. I might even call it adoring. Holy hell, he was gorgeous.

“Okay,” I said. “Well, as soon as I see Mr. Thomas again and his face isn’t all red with white blotches, you’ll be completely forgiven.”

“Until then?” Again, with the eyes.

“Mostly forgiven.” I couldn’t help the smile. Seriously, it completely took over my face, cutting off any chance I had at maintaining a scowl or even a pout.

“Well, then mostly will have to be good enough for now.” We hit the curving roads that took us up one of the mountains and let us look over the river at the city. It was really close to my water tower. I could have taken him there. He stepped on the gas.

“Good. Because I need you,” he said, breaking my thoughts.

I turned to him and raised my eyebrows, questioning.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said. “Can we be friends again? Just friends. I swear. I need someone to teach me how to use this DSLR I just got. I’m jealous of your camera-wrangling capabilities.”

“You’re the first person to understand that it’s not the camera, but the person shooting it. Um, hey,” I said, taking in the stunning view, “Aren’t we taking a bit of a detour?”

“We didn’t agree on a route, did we? And if you’re going to show me how to shoot this, we’re going to need something to take pictures of, right?” We pulled into a parking spot at the edge of the road. The sun had just started to really rise in the sky. It glinted off the wind-rippled surface of the Allegheny and reflected back from the millions of windows in the Pittsburgh skyscrapers. It was stunning, in an industrial-meets-nature kind of way.

“Point taken.”

He grinned and pulled a long, flat box wrapped in glossy pink paper from the seat behind him. “Here. Put this on.”

“What the…”

“Birthday present. Never got to give it to you before the shit hit the fan last night.”

I slid my finger under the edge of the paper and carefully lifted the tape, sliding the box out. Underneath the lid of the box and a layer of tissue paper was the softest, most exquisite camel-colored cashmere scarf I’d ever seen. I immediately lifted it to my cheek. “This is… Oh, Vincent. Whoa. I mean…I love it. Thank you.” I carefully arranged the scarf around my neck, like it was made of tissue paper itself.

Vincent grinned. A full-on grin. Maybe the second genuine smile I’d ever seen from him. “Okay. Now that you’re warm, let’s get out and you can show me how to work this sucker.”

He reached back behind my seat, and when his hand brushed against my shoulder, electricity jolted through me. He smelled exactly like you’d expect a guy to smell—like cologne and hair gel. In a space this close, it was heady, real. I could let myself be enveloped in it, if I wanted to. Enveloped in him.

He pulled out a box and sat it on his lap. Emblazoned on it in shining bright colors was the logo and name of the most expensive DSLR in its line.

“You’re shitting me,” I breathed, grabbing it and pulling it to my own lap. “You mean you haven’t even opened it yet?”

He shrugged. “You inspired me. It just arrived a couple of days ago.”

I shakily undid the stickers holding the box shut, and only realized I was holding my breath after a few seconds. Somehow it felt weird to be holding onto such a gorgeous piece of technology that cost so many thousands of dollars, unwrapping it straight from its original packaging. Even my voice shook when I spoke.

“See this red dot? That’s where the lens lines up with the notch on the body, okay? So just line those up, and it should click in fine.” I realized I was talking more to the camera than Vincent, crooning to it almost, and when I finally looked up at him, he was watching me. Enjoying it.

“Did you…uh…did you want to shoot something outside?”

“Whatever’s best,” he said, opening his door and climbing out. By the time I’d placed all the plastic wrappers back in the camera’s box, he was already on my side of the car, opening the door for me.

He’d driven us all the way to the top of Mount Washington. By then, the sun had reached a high enough angle that it glinted off one flat curve of the bridge and most of the skyscrapers. Sometimes I missed my parents’ farmhouse, but I had to admit that most of the time I loved the way Pittsburgh sparkled.

I perched myself on the hood of his car and started tinkering with the settings on the camera. The wind bit at my fingers, but I didn’t care. Right in front of me, the metallic Pittsburgh shone against the brilliant autumn leaves of the surrounding mountains, and I was holding the most incredible camera money could buy. No way was I missing the opportunity to be in this moment. Just to be. My own little slice of heaven, no matter who else was here.

“So,” I said, peering through the viewfinder, “the most important thing for every shot is exposure. That means how much light you let into the camera. So you control that with ISO and shutter speed. Any time you’re outside during the day, you can keep it low, two hundred or four hundred. Control that here.”

I held the camera out toward Vincent, and realized he was looking at me instead of the camera, so I just kept talking.

“And, uh…shutter speed. That’s really simple to remember. For freezing motion, keep it high. For blurring, keep it low. For most sharp shots, you want at least one sixty, because your hands will shake.” I looked at him again. His gaze was still fixed on my face, and I just couldn’t help it. I grinned. “Do you want to try?”

He grabbed the camera body, first cradling it in his hands like a baby animal, then awkwardly gripping it in a couple different positions. I laughed. “You’ve never really held one of these before, huh?”’

“No, I told you. You inspired me.”

“The least I could do is help you out, then,” I said, grabbing the camera back from him. “Here.” I leaned into him and held the camera with both my hands in front of him, showing him how to place the heel of his right hand against the back and use his left hand to support the lens. He slipped his hands over mine, laying his fingers against mine to get a feel for where he should place them.

It was just his hands on mine, but for that moment I felt like our skin was touching everywhere. My heart stopped, and I drew my hands back. I took a deep breath and said, “Why don’t you try some test shots, okay? Just make sure your light meter is just a little right of center.”

He peered through the viewfinder and snapped some shots, then drew back to look at them in the screen. “Hey, that’s not bad!” he said, smiling. “This really is a stunning city.” He started snapping again, then held the camera out to show me what he’d gotten.

“You know? Those are actually some really good shots.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said, leaning back and setting the camera on the hood behind him.

I bristled, and leaned back to pick it up. “Vincent, don’t put that camera down on the dirty hood of the car. It’s so—”

His hand covered mine on top of the camera, and didn’t move. He looked me right in the eye. If I leaned forward at all, our noses would touch. His breath blew hot against my lips.

“I’m so sorry about your birthday.”

“Vincent, I—”

“Not because the party was such a disaster. Because I insisted on having it in the first place. I should have known you better. I should have paid more attention.”

“Really, just forget about it.” I knew his eyes were still on me, and it became so overwhelming, filling me up with a pressure, an anxiousness I couldn’t name. His fingertips brushed my jaw, drawing my gaze back up to his.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been paying more attention to you. Who you are. That’s why I wanted you to teach me how to use this. I just wanted to get to know you. No other kids at school, no Mathletes, no parties, no bullshit.”

I parted my lips slightly, drawing a shuddering breath in through them. I didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know if I should move, or if I wanted to, or if I did, whether it would be backwards and away, or forward, pressing my mouth into his.

His beautiful face was certainly making it difficult for me to choose the former. Either way, I was frozen. A deer in the headlights.

Finally, after one, two, three breathless waiting seconds, Vincent dropped his fingers from my jaw and let his head fall forward, touching his forehead against mine.

I lifted my chin just enough to brush my lips to his. For an instant, he pressed in, so soft and warm I could have been dreaming it. I finally let myself feel what it was like to kiss a guy who wasn’t the one in my daydreams.

It wasn’t bad. Not bad at all.

I made sure to take steady, regular breaths. I had kissed Vincent, and it was okay. Until he parted his lips against mine, and I felt his tongue flick against my lower lip.

All at once, I knew I didn’t want this, and that I had to find a way to break off the kiss without embarrassing him.

Another car’s tires crunching over the gravel gave me just that. Startled, I whipped my head toward the noise.

There was Brendan, staring at us from the rolled-down window of his tan-gold sedan. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. How much had he seen? And, more importantly, why wasn’t Sofia with him?

I shouldn’t have felt guilty, or afraid, or angry, or worried. But I felt all those things. I knew that this was not usually the route Brendan liked to take home. He only drove this way if he was frustrated or upset about something.

My heart thudded so loudly in my chest I was surprised no one looked up to see where the helicopter was.

Finally, Brendan managed, “I…uh…you forgot…” he swallowed.

Oh, shit. I’d forgotten my camera. I’d been so pissed at Brendan that I’d left behind one of the only objects I’d cared about. It made everything worse that I loved it because he’d given it to me, and I’d left it in our freaking diner. I wished I could take it all back.

Now I wished I could take back kissing Vincent, too. Or maybe just Brendan seeing me kiss Vincent. I hated that I didn’t know which.

I lifted both hands off the hood and pressed my palms to my temples.

“Look, Brendan, I…”

“No, no. It’s cool. I can see I interrupted you, and I…I’ll just drop this off at home, okay Ash? I’ll see ya.”

And just like that, his window rolled back up and he revved the engine on that poor little car harder than I would’ve imagined it could go. He sped off toward home, taking my camera with him.

Well, his camera that he’d basically given me.

I felt sick, all of a sudden. The world spun around me, the beginnings of an epic panic attack. I let myself slide down off the hood of Vincent’s car, brushing dirt I wasn’t sure was there off the backs of my jeans.

“Hey, you okay?”

I was definitely not okay. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I pressed my palms to my temples again, because that seemed like it was probably something someone with a headache would do. “Yeah, just a headache.”

Vincent’s eyebrows tented in what could only be very serious concern. He rubbed his hand up and down my back, once, twice, between my shoulder blades. Yep. One hundred percent, seriously concerned.

“Let’s get you home. Okay?”

I nodded and ducked into the car when he opened my door. “My house or yours?”

I laughed once, short and soft. “Mine’s fine. I want my own bed.”

“Yeah, of course. Mount Washington isn’t going anywhere. We can totally do this any other morning.”

We rode home in silence, me resting my head back on the seat and closing my eyes. I tried to focus on the rumbling in my belly, or the awesomeness of the camera Vincent had just swiped off the car’s hood and tossed into the backseat. Tried to feel the warmth of the sun on my face. But as soon as I thought of that, I remembered the warmth of Vincent’s lips on mine, however briefly, and I suddenly felt very warm all over. Then I felt dizzy again.