4

Natasja

“No. No. Nooooo!” I covered my mouth with my hands, staring numbly through the windshield at the car in front of me. “This can’t be happening. This isn’t real. It’s just a bad dream, and I’ll wake up in my bed…”

“Natasja.”

“I’ll just count backward from ten and take several deep breaths, and everything will be fine.”

“Natasja…”

“I’m just going to put the car in reverse, and we can go home. Maybe we can stop by the all-night café by our dorm and grab some key lime pie.”

“Natasja! You’re freaking me out!” Elizabeth squealed from beside me, shaking my arm. I slowly turned to her as a weird calmness overtook me. Why was my roomie looking at me like there was something wrong? She gripped both of my shoulders. “Oh, my god. You’re suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. I should call 911.”

“Seriously, Elizabeth? I’m okay.”

She peered through the windshield, and my gaze followed hers, landing on the car in front of us—the parked BMW convertible that was crushed against my car. Realization began to settle in at what I’d done. Oh, my god, I hit a parked car.

“I should have stayed home tonight,” I groaned. “Why did you convince me to go out?”

“Because we’ve been on this campus all year and never do anything but study and work. We’re in college, for goodness’ sake. We should be having fun, too.”

I liked my life. It was safe and predictable. Wasn’t it? After the weird lunch I’d had with Alex yesterday and seeing how Jeanette looked at me like it was completely inconceivable that Alex would actually be interested in me, maybe there was a part of me that did want to venture out and live a little. Of course, I never would’ve gone out without my bestie, Elizabeth Goldman, convincing me to go. Well, she was a dramatic arts major and was very persuasive when she set her mind to it.

However, accidentally throwing the car into drive instead of reverse was not on my agenda tonight. “Ohhhhh, god. My mom and dad will kill me if they find out.” My parents had given me this car when I turned eighteen, and I’d already had two wrecks in the past six months—in my defense, one wasn’t my fault—but my dad had complained about how the insurance premiums shot up after each one.

If they found out I’d hit a parked car, they would take away my car and forbid me to drive again. Not to mention if they knew where it happened… at the Sky Lounge, a twenty-one and over club. Elizabeth had hooked us up with fake IDs. I’d never ever been to a party, much less a club. I was a goner.

“Come on, Nat. Maybe it’s not that bad.” Elizabeth opened the passenger door, and I followed suit, squinting my eyes in fear as I crept forward. My optimism nosedived when I heard her say, “Oh, no. It’s bad.” She gnawed at her bottom lip. Both of our cars were smashed together like a front-end sandwich, and the debris from the headlights was sprinkled all over the pavement like confetti.

I dropped my head and rubbed my eyes. “I can’t believe this. What am I going to do? I’m screwed. I’m so screwed.” I fought the tears threatening to fall. “I can’t tell my parents about this. They’ll jerk me out of school. They’ll keep me locked up in my room, and I’ll never…”

“What the fuck happened?” a deep, familiar voice growled from behind me.

My head popped up, and confusion settled over me. What was he doing here? I watched warily as Alex slowly prowled closer. He pulled up beside me with a hand at his chin, and his eyes zeroed in on the damage in front of us. He seemed far more concerned than an innocent bystander.

“Please tell me this isn’t your car,” I croaked, somehow knowing it was.

He exhaled sharply and stepped closer, slowly scanning the damage to his sleek BMW and the bashed in hood of my practical Toyota sedan. Broken plastic crunched under his shoes. He stood frozen for a few seconds before he asked quietly, “Are you going to tell me what happened?” He smoothed a hand over the bashed front end of his car before he casually turned back to me, waiting for an explanation.

Hoping for a miracle, holding out hope that this was only a bad dream, I gazed at my friend, who watched silently like a deer caught in headlights. So much for my lifeline helping me out. Time to face the music. I licked my lips. “It was an accident.”

“No shit,” he rasped. “You hit a parked car directly in front of you. How the hell did you manage that?”

I was so distraught; I ignored his sarcasm. “We were leaving the club, and I thought I’d put the car in reverse… I’m not used to driving in these heels, and my foot slipped… and I guess I put the car in drive…” I was babbling like an idiot, but it was the truth. “I’m sorry. I promise it was an accident.”

“Hold up. Hold up.” By now, he was facing me with a hand in the air, halting my words. He took a minute to study me from the top of my head, to my strapless minidress, and down to the high heels I wore. “You were here tonight?”

Oh, god. Was he going to use this against me? What if he found out I was underage? My heart was racing, and he kept staring at me like I was some weird specimen. Maybe he was going to call the police and keep me here to file a report. “Were you?” he stressed.

I smoothed a hand over my forehead. “Yes.”

He took a few steps closer and tilted his head. His expression was impartial, and his voice was calm. “I didn’t know you were someone to frequent a club.”

“I’m not—not really. This was my first time.” Why were we discussing this? Shouldn’t he be shouting at me for wrecking his expensive sports car?

“Your first time…” His voice was gravelly as he continued to study me.

“My first time to go to a club, and I was leaving. Then this happened.” I held out my hand in hopelessness, like I was about to lose the battle of holding in my tears. I rubbed at the corner of my eye, certain I smeared the damn eyeliner I had on. “I’m so sorry.” I choked the words out, hating how I sounded so pathetic.

“Mm-hmm,” he murmured in thought. “It was an accident, right?” He lifted a shoulder as if it wasn’t a big deal and spoke in that calm cadence he always seemed to have. “Just give me your insurance information—”

“No!”

His brows drew in, probably thinking I was crazy and desperate, which I was. “You don’t have insurance?”

“Yes. I do.” I licked my lips nervously. “I do have insurance.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

My shoulders slumped. “I don’t want my parents to find out.”

He stood silently for several moments, and my anxiety rose with each passing second. I felt a tear dipping down my cheek, and I turned away before he could see. Gah, why was I so emotional? Because I was about to lose my car and my college life at Hillside. I was being slightly dramatic, but it seemed like a real possibility.

“Why? It was an accident.”

“Because…” I shook my head. “They wouldn’t understand,” I breathed out. “I’m done here if they find out.”Why did I tell him that?

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t file another claim on my parents’ insurance,” I groaned. “I’ve already had two wrecks in the past year, and my father warned me if I had another one, he would take away my car. Can we handle this without filing a claim?”

“Hmmm,” he said quietly, tapping his index finger on his chin. “Seems like you’re in a predicament, aren’t you?”

He sounded sympathetic, but something else flashed through his expression. Something not so sympathetic.

“I’ll pay for the damages, somehow,” I said, but I knew it would be impossible to come up with the amount of money to cover the damages. I’d definitely need another side hustle—or two or three or four or five—in addition to my part-time job at the library. I could donate blood. And write research papers for students. What was the going rate for that? It would take me several months, years even, but if I worked hard enough, it could happen.

“No.” He crossed his arms and glanced down at the ground. “Then, I guess it was my fault.”

“What?”

“I hit your car.”

“But you didn’t—”

“It was my fault, okay?” he cut in.

“I don’t under—”

“Understand?” He raised his eyebrows and took a step closer. “I think you do understand. I accidentally threw the car in drive and ran into your parked car. What’s there to understand? I’ll handle it.”

I eyed him like I was waiting for him to say he was joking and that this was all just a bad dream. “Are you serious?”

He nodded solemnly. “Very.”

“Okay.” I swallowed slowly. “Somehow, I’ll pay you back.”

“I don’t want or need your money.”

“What is it you want?”

His smile spread slowly, and two dimples materialized. “Now, that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” His words hung in the air between us before he leaned in and said, “I still need that date for the Pike formal.”

He would take care of this situation if I went to the formal? This all seemed wrong, and my pulse raced with apprehension. There had to be another way.

“On second thought.” I pursed my lips, knowing most people would’ve taken the deal he was offering. “I’ll give you my insurance information.”

His brows rose, clearly incredulous. “You’d rather risk losing your car than attend a formal with me at a five-star hotel?”

I nodded solemnly. “It’s my fault. It’s the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to do. Of course, a good girl like you would never consider compromising her morals.” He studied my face before peering down at my body. “How old are you?”

A chill ran down my spine. “Why?”

“You have to be twenty-one to get into the Sky Lounge.”

My heart stopped. “I’m of age.” My words came out stilted.

“Of age? Come on, now. Don’t disappoint me by telling a lie. Gotta keep those morals in check, don’t you?” He moved in closer as he watched me.

I held his stare before dropping my eyes and saying quietly, “I’m nineteen.”

Silence passed. “Nineteen. It seems like you’re not quite of age to be here.” He leaned into my cheek, and my breath caught in my throat. He ran his nose down my skin and hovered over my lips. “I smell alcohol.”

“I had one drink,” I said unsteadily.

He paused, lingering over my mouth, but he drew his head back with a faint smile. “You’re underage. You were drinking. You hit my parked car.”

My heart pounded in my chest, knowing I was screwed. He held all the cards. “Are you trying to blackmail me?”

“No. Blackmail sounds a bit harsh, don’t you think? I was only stating the facts.”

I exhaled slowly, rubbing a finger over my brow. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want.”

I glanced over at Elizabeth who was watching this exchange in quiet interest. “Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll go. I’ll go to the formal with you.”

I didn’t know if I’d made a deal with the devil, but at the moment, it seemed like a better deal than the alternative. I’d rather suffer through this date than ever disappoint my parents.