Thrill Ride

by Rachel Hawthorne

  “Me and Megan.” She glanced over at me. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  How could I say no without seeming ungrateful?

  “Sure.” If I’d used a longer word, my response would have been a stammer.

  “So see?” Jordan said to Parker. “You get a free meal out of the deal.”

  “I’m not sure that makes it worth it.”

  “Sure it does,” she said. “Pop the trunk so we can get our bags out.”

  Hardly knowing what else to say or do, I walked around to the back of the car to get my bag. Parker opened the trunk.

  “Good Lord!” he said when he saw all the bags inside.

  He reached in at the same time that I reached in and we bumped heads.

  “Sorry,” we said at the same time, each of us rubbing our respective heads.

  “I just have the one little bag,” I said, pointing and reaching, but he was reaching too and somehow with us both grabbing it, the shirt fell out.

  “Sorry,” he said again, quicker at grabbing it than I was.

  It unfolded as he was lifting it out. Then he was staring at it, a grin forming over his face, before looking at me.

  I snatched it from his fingers. “It was Jordan’s idea.”

  His grin grew. “But you’re going to be the one wearing it. Are you too hot to handle?”

  “You’ll never know.”

  His grin faded and I bit my lower lip. Why had I said that? Why was I so touchy whenever he was around?

  Because he belonged to Jordan, but didn’t act like it, and I belonged to Nick, but had a hard time remembering that whenever this guy was around.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled again, but I don’t know if he heard me. He was too busy gathering up all of Jordan’s bags and carrying them to his car.

  And now I was going to have to spend the evening fixing this guy supper?

  Could life get any more complicated?

  Chapter 10

  It could.

  Or if not more complicated, it was definitely beginning to feel out of control.

  The reason Jordan had so desperately wanted to swap cars with Parker was because she had an appointment to get a manicure and pedicure, and since we were running late, she didn’t have time to drop me off at the dorm. So by default, since they had an opening, I got a manicure and pedicure as well.

  The place where we went was called the Salons of Indulgence. It was actually a lot of little rooms in this main building, and different things happened in different rooms. And of course, Jordan had appointments lined up in several of the rooms.

  “You don’t have to get an eyebrow waxing,” she said after we were finished at the nail salon. Then she leaned toward me. “But what can it hurt? Just a little more shaping than you have now.”

  I stood by the doorway and watched as she laid back in the recliner and the woman waxed her brows. I’d never actually had a waxing done. But it looked relatively painless.

  When Jordan was finished, I decided what the heck. Plucking my eyebrows was a tedious chore anyway, so I took a turn.

  Ow! I was wrong. It did hurt! And the reason it hurt was because she’d removed a good portion of my eyebrows.

  I stared in the mirror when she was finished.

  “You have a natural arch,” she said with an accent from some Scandanavian country. “You weren’t taking advantage of it. See how much bigger your eyes look now? The men will be dazzled.”

  “I don’t need to dazzle men,” I grumbled. “I have a boyfriend.”

  “Then he will be charmed.”

  “She’s right,” Jordan said. “Your eyes really do stand out now.”

  “My brows are still tingling.”

  “That’ll stop soon, and if it doesn’t, you can put some ice on them when we get back to the dorm. But honestly, next week, it’ll hurt even less.”

  “Next week?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Monday maintenance is a weekly ritual for me. Since we’re both off, you’re more than welcome to come along, only next time we’ll make appointments for you.”

  Monday maintenance? Geez.

  “Once a month I do hair, facial, and massage,” she added.

  I shook my head. “Jordan, I can’t afford to do this weekly. A haircut and an occasional manicure are really about all my budget can handle.”

  “Daddy gave me a credit card to use on anything I wanted. I can use it to pay for your stuff, too.”

  Was she crazy?

  “Thanks, Jordan, but I’m not going to have your dad pay for my stuff.”

  “Why not?”

  I couldn’t believe she was asking.

  “Because I believe in paying my own way.”

  “He won’t mind, Megan. Money is so not an object with him.”

  “Well, it’s an object with me. I’ll join you when I can, but not every week.”

  “Okay,” she said, a little sadness in her voice, “but if you change your mind…he said I was supposed to use the card to have fun, and spending time with you is fun.”

  “If your dad is paying for so much, why are you even working this summer?” I asked, hoping that I didn’t sound rude.

  “The experience. I don’t want to be too spoiled. Besides, it’s nice to have money of my own, you know?”

  Yeah, I knew, but hanging around with Jordan, I wasn’t going to hold on to it for long.

  I’d barely dropped my stuff on my bed when Jordan announced that we didn’t have much time to get ready.

  “We need to go grocery shopping for tonight’s dinner,” she said before disappearing into the bathroom.

  I heard the shower. What a tornado of activity!

  But she was also a lot of fun, in a frenzied kind of way.

  I thought about changing into the shirt I’d bought today, but decided it conveyed a message that I definitely didn’t want Parker taking the wrong way. Especially since he’d already seen it.

  I tried to think of an excuse to get out of helping with the dinner, without looking weird, but there was no way around it. Any excuse was a definite show of weirdness.

  So after Jordan got out of the shower, I had my turn. Put on a light application of makeup, stared at myself in the mirror. Did a change to the shape of my eyebrows really make that much difference in the way that I looked?

  I looked, gosh, I didn’t know. Prettier?

  Maybe it was the dark green of my tank top. Couldn’t be the white of my shorts. But something sure made me look different. I decided to leave my hair loose, hanging around my face. Maybe it would detract from the radical change in my eyebrows. Did guys even really notice eyebrows?

  On the way to Parker’s, we stopped at this little grocery store. Jordan knew everything about Parker. That he only ate dark meat chicken, never white, which was important because we were going to make chicken and rice. He ate wheat rolls, again, never white. Kernel corn, never creamed. Unsweetened tea, never sweetened. Plain brownies, never double chocolate or iced or chunky chocolate.

  “If it weren’t for his love of roller coasters,” she said, “the guy would be totally dull.”

  I almost told her I didn’t think he was dull at all. But if she thought he was, why did she hang out with him? But I kept my opinion and curiosity to myself.

  After we finished shopping, we drove over to his place. It was only about fifteen minutes from the dorm, but the setting was totally awesome. The house, like a few others that I could see, was set back along the lake, massive trees in front. It was a log cabin with a wide porch that wrapped around the front and sides. Each side had a couple of wicker rockers.

  It was an incredibly peaceful place. No wonder Jordan spent so much time here. It was far away from the madness of the theme park. I couldn’t hear the roller coasters or the screaming riders or the crying kids. As I stepped out of the car, I couldn’t hear anything except the water lapping at the shore and the breeze rustling through the trees.

  “Come on,” Jordan said.

  “What about the groceries?�
� I asked.

  “The guys’ll get them.”

  I followed her toward the house. A tall, blond guy in a dark T-shirt stepped onto the porch.

  Jordan hopped up on the porch and hugged him. “This is Cole.”

  Cole, who had called the first night and declared his love for Jordan, lived with Parker, whom she slept with?

  “You must be the roommate,” he said to me.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Jordan said. “Yep, she’s my roomie. Don’t you love what she’s done with herself today?”

  “Jordan—” I began.

  “And what is that?” a deep voice asked.

  I turned toward Parker. He’d come up to the side of the porch. He was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, his hands dirty with grease. How could anyone that dirty look that sexy?

  “If you can’t tell, I’m not going to tell you,” Jordan said. “Did you get my car fixed?”

  “Yeah. I had to replace the battery. But when was the last time you changed your oil?”

  My roommate shrugged, looking a little guilty when she did it.

  “Geez, Jordan, it’s no wonder you have so much car trouble.”

  “But at least I have you to fix it. Will you guys get the groceries out of the car?”

  She grabbed my arm. “Come on. I’ll show you around while they do that.”

  The house was even better inside. Lots of leather furniture and brightly colored cushions and large windows in every room so we could look out onto the lake.

  By the time we got to the kitchen, the groceries had been delivered. It was an open, cheery room.

  Jordan walked to the oven and turned it on. “Let’s get started.”

  It was really a pretty easy recipe. Chicken in a casserole dish, rice over the chicken, soup over the rice. Into the oven it all went, which left us with a couple of cans of corn to heat up and some rolls to bake. She worked on those while I hand-stirred the brownie mix.

  I walked to the window and gazed out on the lake. The view wasn’t that different from what I saw outside my dorm window, but it was just so much lovelier here. Maybe because I could see green grass instead of a cement sidewalk that led to the sandy shore. I could see branches swaying in the breeze.

  I don’t know how long I stood there staring out, but the timer was suddenly going off.

  “Can you get the dish out of the oven?” Jordan asked.

  “Sure.” I set the bowl aside, slipped on the oven mitts, opened the oven door, reached in—

  “Something smells good,” Parker suddenly said.

  I jerked up, caught my arm on the oven right above where the mitt ended—

  “Ouch!”

  I jumped back. Arms were suddenly around me, hauling me toward the sink. I could smell sweat and oil and grease. Parker turned on the cold water and put my arm beneath it.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “Jordan, get some ice.”

  “It’s not bad,” I said. “Just stings.”

  “Still, shouldn’t have happened.”

  He was looking at me with those green, green eyes. So apologetic, so much concern. Had anyone ever looked at me like that?

  I was sure Nick would if I ever burned myself in front of him. And I might have if I’d worked in the restaurant with him. But since I’d never hurt myself, I’d never had him look as though he’d take the pain on himself if he could.

  “Parker, you probably shouldn’t be touching her. You’re filthy,” Jordan said.

  He stepped back, but I could tell that he was reluctant to do it. Jordan moved into place, turned off the water, gently patted my arm dry, and looked at the burn. “That’s not too bad.”

  It really wasn’t. Maybe an inch long, a half an inch wide. I’d been really lucky. The mitt had saved me from the worst of it. Jordan smoothed some aloe cream on the burn, then placed the bag of ice against my arm. I held it in place. It was going to be all right.

  She spun around and faced Parker. “The way you were acting I thought we were going to have to take her to the ER.”

  “I felt responsible.”

  “You don’t usually overreact.”

  “Guilt, okay? Let it go.”

  “Aren’t we snappish?”

  “I spent my day off working on your stupid car, and you haven’t thanked me once.”

  “You stink. Go take a shower.”

  “No, I want a hug.”

  She started moving around the island. “No way. You’re sweaty and so dirty.”

  Grinning broadly, he pulled off his T-shirt. He was sweaty, but he was also very trim, very fit. Wow.

  “Don’t you dare,” she warned. “Don’t you dare—”

  He went after her. She screeched and headed out of the kitchen. He followed.

  I heard her scream. I walked to the doorway. He’d caught her and was hugging her. She broke away.

  “You are disgusting,” she said. “Go shower. But hurry, everything is almost ready.”

  He was heading to his room when he looked back, saw me standing in the doorway. “Want a hug?”

  I shook my head and stepped back out of sight.

  No way would I ever admit that yeah…I thought maybe I did want a hug.

  Chapter 11

  While Parker was taking his shower, Jordan and I began setting up dinner on the counter.

  “We’re just going to serve it buffet style,” she said. “Everyone can fill their plates and join us on the back porch.”

  “Something sure smells good,” a girl said, standing in the doorway. “What’s the special occasion?”

  She had red hair, pulled back into a ponytail.

  “Parker had to fix my car so I’m paying him back.” Jordan jerked her thumb toward me. “This is my roomie, Megan.”

  “Hey, Megan. I’m Ronda.”

  “She’s Cole’s girlfriend.”

  “Allegedly,” she said smiling.

  “You’ve been with him, since what? Middle school?” Jordan said.

  Ronda smiled. “Pretty much.”

  “Grab Cole and get your plates ready. Food is getting cold.”

  The four of us were sitting at the wicker table on the back porch when Parker joined us. He pulled over a chair and set it between Jordan and me. “How’s the arm?” he asked, as he set his plate on the table.

  “Fine,” I said. I wasn’t certain I could say the same thing about my appetite now that he was sitting beside me. His hair was still damp, and I could actually see a couple of drops of water on his eyelashes.

  Why are you looking that closely? I chastised myself.

  “What happened to her arm?” Ronda asked.

  “She burned it taking the casserole dish out of the oven. Parker has been totally overreacting,” Jordan said.

  “I have not. I’m showing a little concern.”

  “Whatever.” She perked up and smiled. “Hey, Ross.”

  “Hey, babe.”

  I looked toward the doorway and there was Ross from the first night, holding a plate full of food. He walked over and set the plate on the other side of Jordan. Then he pulled a chair to the table and sat. He leaned over and gave Jordan a quick kiss.

  I cast a furtive glance at Parker, wondering how he might take the show of affection, but he didn’t seem at all bothered.

  “So, Jordan’s car had problems?” Ross asked.

  Parker nodded. “Yep. It was a mess under that hood. I can’t believe I spent my day off working on it.”

  Jordan leaned toward him, her nose wrinkled. “That’s what brothers are for.”

  “He’s your brother?” I asked, before I could stop myself.

  Everyone looked at me like I’d just asked the stupidest question in the whole world.

  “Well, yeah. Who did you think he was?” Jordan asked.

  “He never said his last name, and you seemed to really like him, and you”—I swallowed—“you were over here a lot.”

  “Omigod! I slept over here and you thought…ew!” She shuddered. “He was so not in the bed wi
th me. Omigod!” she said again. “Ross is my boyfriend, totally, absolutely. Who did you think Ross was?”

  I felt like such an idiot. “I thought you had two boyfriends?” It sounded stupid even as I gave voice to my assumptions.

  “So, what? You, like, thought I was a slut?” She laughed. “Omigod. This is too much.”

  Parker didn’t say anything at all. Just studied me, like he was slowly figuring something out. Then as though he’d figured it all out, he turned to Jordan. “Common misconception. We don’t look alike.”

  “Thank God.” Jordan laughed again. “This is really too much.”

  She was shaking her head, grinning.

  “So, Megan, what’s your position at the park?” Ronda asked, as though trying to shift the subject away from my stupidity.

  “Gift shop.”

  “Not Hansel and Gretel’s, I hope?”

  “Yeah. Where do you work?”

  “I work on the shows, putting them together. We have one girl this year, Alisha, who is so talented.”

  “Omigod! That’s our suitemate,” Jordan said. “Is she really that good?”

  “Good enough that you need to have your dad come up and watch her perform,” Ronda said.

  Parker leaned toward me and said quietly, “Our dad’s a director.”

  “Of movies?” I asked stupidly.

  He grinned. “Yeah.”

  I thought I understood now why Jordan had unlimited credit card use.

  “Do you know famous people, then?” I asked.

  “Other than our dad, you mean?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sure. Jordan and I have crashed a few of his parties. The thing about the famous, though, is that they’re just regular people.”

  “But they’re famous,” I pointed out.

  He shrugged. “I guess.”

  “That’s the reason you’re majoring in film? Are you planning to follow in your dad’s footsteps?”

  “I’d like to. Entertainment is my life.”

  “But you manage a roller coaster. I don’t see how that’s related.”

  “It’s entertainment. It’s fun, exciting, thrilling. It’s an experience. For sixty seconds, people aren’t thinking about work or worries.”