Page 33 of Wrecked
He sighs. “Why do you even want to know me?”
“Because, Cam, that's what normal people do. That's what friends do. I mean, I thought we were . . .”My words drift off as I watch him sitting there silently, not saying a word. “You know what, just forget it,” I tell him and put my plate on the coffee table.
He drops his plate to the table as well. “You want to know something, fine. I don't work at all, andI was at a garage today, getting things sorted with my car so that I can race again.”
Shock at the fact that he actually told me something has me staring at him for a few seconds.
Finally, we're getting somewhere.
I give myself a moment to take that in, waiting for any type of negative reaction within my body at the fact that it's racing, but none come. I have many questions. Like, is it drag racing like my dad used to watch occasionally?
Is he on a team?
Has he been on TV?
Is it here in the city?
But what I settle for is, “You race?” His head jerks with a single nod. “Okay, well, I don't see what's so bad about that that you couldn't just tell me in the first–”
“Illegalstreetracing,” he cuts in. “With people who don't give a shit about breaking the law, who love to party, do drugs, and all sorts of shit like that.That'smy life.”
Oh.
I'm not quite sure how to reply to that. It's not exactly what I was expecting to hear from him. I guess I don't really knowwhatI expected.
Does it really change anything?
Is itreallythat bad?
A race is a race, right?
But maybe not.
Maybe this is what Walter was referring to? Something that he does that he's not proud of?
One thing for sure is that I find him even more intriguing now than I did before.
After a moment of silence, while I ponder what to say, he faces away from me and scoops his plate up from the table, shoving food into his mouth.
CHAPTER 15
CAMPBELL
She stares at me for twenty seconds before I finally turn away and start eating again. I wait for something, not sure what. Maybe to hear the front door open and close as she leaves?
Twenty seconds, in many instances, is a short amount of time. Being twenty seconds late for an event usually won't get you into trouble, but being twenty seconds late to catch a bus or a flight will have you missing the event altogether. Waiting twenty seconds for someone to text you back is no big deal, but waiting twenty seconds for someone to say something,anything, when they're right in front of you, feels like twenty hours.
She wanted to know something about me, so I gave her something. Justoneof the reasons I'm no good. I had felt her disappointment the other night when I told her that I wasn't right for her while she was removing my stitches. And really, I should have just told her all about my life in the first place. Then she wouldn't have even considered me an option to begin with. But I was selfish and still wanted to hang around her regardless of whether I should or not. I wanted to hold onto those feelings that I get whenever I'm in her presence. I didn't want to scare her off, so I kept my mouth shut.
Too late for that now, though.
Girls like her don't belong with guys like me.
When I still don't hear anything a few seconds later, I turn my head only to see her take her plate off the table, settle further into my couch, and start eating again as if nothing is different. As if I didn't just give her a reason to be wary of me.
It goes without saying. I wasn't expecting that.
“That's not so bad, you know,” she finally says. “It's not like you're going around murdering people.” Her lips quirk into a smile, and then responding to the look on my face, she adds, “Did you expect me to run off or something?”
