Into the Deep 01 (6 page)

I teased my lip with my teeth, his confession firing up my blood and spreading this beautiful ache across my chest and into my stomach. “If this is a line, I’ll kick you in the nuts, Jacob Caplin.”

He made a face. “It’s not a line.
I
don’t need a line.”

“You are so unbelievably arrogant.”

“I know.” He chuckled and smoothed a hand up my spine. I shivered as it caressed my back and then slipped under my ponytail. His hand cupped my nape and gripped me gently, tipping my head back so I was looking him directly in the eye. “I need you to keep me on my ass so my ego doesn’t become a major problem. Please, Charley … go out with me.”

Teasing him, I didn’t say anything for at least ten seconds, which felt like an awful long time. I felt his fingers flex with tension and slowly I smiled. As I did, he relaxed against me and I nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll go out with you.”

“You did not drive a pickup in Chicago.” I smiled widely as Jake led me by the hand to his truck.

He’d been the perfect gentleman, coming to the house to meet my mom and dad before taking me out on a date. My mom thought he was fantastic, I could tell, but my dad was wary. He’d heard the stories about Jake and wasn’t too keen on Casanova taking his daughter out on a date.

Jake smiled back at me as he pulled open the passenger door of the Ford. “It was a bribe from my dad. I’ve always wanted one, don’t ask me why.” He shrugged. “It eased the pain of moving to bumble-fuck Indiana.”

I got in, huffing at the insult to my town. “So you’re telling me I’m going out with a spoiled brat.”

He laughed and shut the door. When he got into the driver’s side, he smirked. “Just so you know, I’ve worked every summer but this one as a car valet for my uncle. I saved it all and put it toward this. My dad didn’t want me to sell my car for the pickup, but he eased up on me as a bribe to keep me sweet on the move.” His smiled turned cocky. “If I’d known you were waiting for me, I wouldn’t have needed the bribe to keep me sweet.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Mr. Smooth, so you’re not spoiled, but try to refrain from insulting my town.”

He tried to swallow his smile and failed. “You got it. My sincerest apology.”

We were quiet as we drove out of my neighborhood and toward Main Street. When we passed the high school and turned onto the road that would lead us out to the highway, I shot Jake a curious look. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he turned off onto Brenton Fields and pulled the truck to a stop in the middle of the open. There was nothing around us but grass, trees in the distance, and a starry sky above. Jake grinned at me again and got out of the truck, leaving his MP3 player playing through the radio, the truck’s headlights on. He helped me out and holding my hand led me to the truck’s rear. I stood, my belly still fluttering with girlish excitement as I watched Jake spread out a blanket on the truck bed and pull a cooler out of the corner. He took out some sandwiches, cookies, chips, and two bottles of water.

“Dinner awaits.” He held out his hand. I laughed as he pulled me onto the bed.

I was glad I’d brought a sweater. We were nearing October and the temperature drop was more noticeable at night.

Still laughing, I bit into my peanut butter sandwich.

Jake smirked at me. “What?”

“Nothing,” I giggled now, which made him grin even harder. “I just think you might’ve watched too many movies set in small-town America in the fifties. We don’t really do the date in the back of a pickup thing. We usually hang out in each other’s rooms surrounded by modern technology.”

He clamped a hand over his chest as if I’d shot him. “I’m crushed. And here I thought this shit was romantic.”

I laughed harder. “This shit is romantic.” I stifled my giggling and gave him a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

Jake nodded in return and settled back against the truck. “You know, you’re not like other girls our age.”

I quirked an eyebrow in interest. “I’m not?”

“Nope. I find it incredibly hot how cool you are.”

“I think that’s what they call a paradox, my friend.”

“I mean … you’re not into drama or gossip or mindless, stupid stuff that doesn’t matter. I watch you with your friends and if one of them starts drama for no reason, you walk away or ignore it while the rest of them fan the flames. When they gossip about someone, you roll your eyes, and if it’s mean gossip, you tell them to grow up. Not a lot of sixteen-year-old girls have the balls to do that. Not a lot of fourteen-year-old girls have the balls to throw themselves in front of an SUV to save their sister, either.”

I groaned. “Oh God, don’t buy into that, Jake. Anyone else would’ve done the same.”

“No.” My eyes sharpened on him at the gravity in his voice. “No, they wouldn’t.”

I squirmed a little under his intense regard. “Jake …” I sighed, lowering my sandwich and staring at anything but him, “for all my cracks about being awesome … I don’t want you to build this idea of me in your head … an idea that I can’t live up to. I’m just Charley. An ordinary girl from Lanton, Indiana.”

“I don’t agree with you.”

My chest felt too full, my whole body tense with whatever heaviness was settling around our picnic on his truck bed. We’d only been on our date for twenty minutes, for goodness’ sake, and already we were in Seriousville.

“Charley, look at me.”

I did as he asked and found the breath leaving my body again at the look in his eyes.

“This shouldn’t be possible,” he whispered, “but somehow, it’s happening. You’re something special to me, and I can only hope that I’m something special to you.”

“I barely know you,” My brain murmured logic; my heart screamed its opposite.

Jake shook his head slowly. “I don’t know if that’s true.”

We were silent a while, eating our sandwiches and listening to the radio.

Finally, not able to contain it, though I knew it was insane, I whispered, “You’re something special to me.”

Jake turned his head, his eyes glittering in the dark. “Yeah?”

I ducked my head, embarrassed. “We haven’t even kissed yet.”

“It’s going to be epic.”

“What if it’s not?”

Jake threw his head back and laughed. “Are you this pessimistic about everything?”

“No. I’m just asking a question.”

“Trust me. It’ll be epic.”

I took a drink of water, eyeing him carefully. I swallowed and wiped my lips dry. “This overconfidence of yours could definitely become a problem.”

“It’s not a problem. You love it.”

“No, I love cheese fries, chocolate milkshakes, The Killers, Metric, Lucky jeans, my mom and dad and Andrea.”

Jake chuckled. “In that order?”

I narrowed my eyes playfully. “Maybe. What do you love?”

“Gio’s Pizza: the best pizza in Chicago, Reese’s peanut butter cups, the White Sox, Pearl Jam, Silversun Pickups, Bob Dylan, The Smiths, my pickup, my mom and dad and maybe Luke too.”

I nodded and then asked casually, “Have you named your pickup yet?”

“Nah, but I was thinking The Vedder.”

My eyebrows puckered together in confusion. “Why?”

Jake flinched like I’d shot him. “After Eddie Vedder. Lead singer of Pearl Jam?”

I shrugged. “Sorry. I’ve never listened to their stuff.”

Yup, this time my words
had
shot him. Jake shook his head. “No, no, no. Okay, no. I’m not dating a girl who has not listened to Pearl Jam. You can borrow my CDs.”

I laughed. “It’s cool. If you feel that strongly about it, I’ll download their albums.”

“Uh, one, there are a lot, and two, it’s Pearl Jam. You have to listen to them on CD.”

I tried not to laugh again, my lips twitching with the urge. “Okay.”

“Never listened to Pearl Jam,” he muttered, incredulous.

Choking on laughter, I replied, “It’s not a punishable crime.”

“That’s a shame. I could find a very creative way to punish you.”

I blushed and threw a napkin at him. “You have a filthy mind, Mr. Caplin.”

He grunted. “Of course I do. I’m sixteen years old.” He pushed the picnic up the blanket and I watched warily, wondering where he was going with this. In the end all he did was stretch out on his back, arms behind his head as he gave me an inviting smile. Casually, I lay down beside him, feeling the heat of his body as if it were pressed against mine. I’d left space between us so he wouldn’t get any funny ideas.

While we stared up at the stars, it occurred to me that we were lying there in this perfectly comfortable silence I’d never felt with anyone before.

“Just call it ‘Eddie.’”

Jake snorted. “What?”

“‘The Vedder’ doesn’t trip off the tongue. Eddie’s simpler.”

“You want me to call my pickup ‘Eddie’?”

“It’s just a suggestion.”

“He’s not the dog from
Frasier
. He’s a pickup.”

“Call him ‘Ford’ then.”

“He’s not a businessman with a stick up his ass.”

Now it was my turn to snort. “Zorro?”

“I get the feeling you’re not taking this seriously.”

“No, I am. Naming a truck is very important. I was going for masculine. Powerful.”

“And you came up with Zorro?”

“The Hulk? Batman? The Batmobile?”

“I’m not even humoring you on those.”

“Alan? Bob?”

“You’re so lucky you’re cute.”

“Ozzy? Lennon? Morrison? Joplin?”

“Charley …”

“Hendrix.”

Jake stilled next to me and I felt his gaze on my face as he turned to stare at me. “I like that,” he murmured softly.

I turned my head to meet his eyes and smiled. “Hendrix?”

“Yeah, it’s cool.”

I smoothed a hand down the bed of the truck and announced into the night, “I hereby christen thee Hendrix.”

Suddenly my hand was caught in Jake’s and my eyes drifted back up to his as he rubbed his thumb across my knuckles. “You named my truck,” he murmured.

“You can un-name it,” I muttered back unsurely.

Jake shook his head. “We’re in too deep for that, baby.”

My hand tightened in his and he felt it. His fingers flexed and he threaded them through mine. “I’m not too sure about the deep. I breathe better in the shallow.”

“Not true,” he whispered. “You hate the shallow.”

I finally let go of the breath I was holding and turned my head to gaze back up at the starry sky. Keeping hold of my hand, Jake asked me what my favorite color was.

“Green.”

“Me too,” he replied quietly. “But I like black too.”

“Is black a color?”

“As opposed to a shade?”

“Yeah.”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.”

“What’s your favorite song?”

And so began three hours of questioning back and forth. By the end of the date, I think Jake Caplin knew more about me than I even knew about myself.

As Hendrix pulled up to my house, the murmurings of butterflies in my stomach turned into a full-blown riot. This was it. This was the kissing part.

But Jake didn’t lean in for a kiss. Instead he moved around the truck to help me out. He took my hand and I followed him up to my porch. Quieted by my anticipation, I let Jake turn me and clasp me by the nape of the neck again. He pulled me in close and ducked his head to hold my gaze. “You’re going out with me next Friday.”

I blinked, coming out of my anticipatory fog. “You’re not even asking now?”

Jake shook his head solemnly. “I can’t take the chance you’ll say no.”

Okay, he had to stop with the perfect words before I melted into goo. I smiled up at him, my hazel eyes full of flirt. “Ask me.”

Jake took a deep breath and gave my nape a squeeze. “Charley … will you go out with me next Friday?”

I shrugged casually. “Sure, why not.”

Chuckling, Jake drew me close and pressed a sweet kiss to my forehead. When he pulled back, he winked and let me go. “See you at school on Monday.”

I nodded, standing there in a state of bewilderment as he walked away, got in Hendrix, and drove off. Without kissing me.

Huh.

Confused, I turned on my heel and walked inside. Mom and Dad were sitting in the living room pretending to watch television, covering up the fact that they’d definitely been spying on us.

“How’d it go?” Dad asked, his voice tight, as if he really didn’t want to know but needed to.

“You’ll be glad to know that Jake was the perfect gentleman.”
Did I sound glum when I said that?

“Good,” Dad grunted.

“Are you going out again?” Mom asked.

I nodded. “He asked me out next Friday.”

“Oh, Christ,” Dad muttered.

Mom laughed. I rolled my eyes and headed into the kitchen for a glass of orange juice, my heart still pounding from the adrenaline Jake’s presence had released inside me. It almost cracked a rib when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.

My face split into a huge goofy grin at the message.

I’m going to kiss you when you least expect it. And it WILL be epic.

Butterflies back in full force, I quickly texted him back.
I trust you.