Top Ten Uses for an Unworn Prom Dress by Tina Ferraro Read Free Book Online Page B

finally speak to me.
    “Doesn't give us much time.”
    I struggled to set my mind back to business. “We don't need much. I just need to fill out a form and hand over the check.”
    “And we've got to eat.”
    My stomach was in a knot from all the morning's action—I couldn't imagine eating. “Maybe you do.”
    He shot me a look, but with his eyes behind sunglasses, I had to go to his mouth and cheeks for a true reading of his thoughts. “At some point, Nic, I need food. Growing guy and all. Plus, I go straight from school today to my uncle's print shop.
And
it's part of the deal.”
    Yeah, yeah.
    Approaching the rear of his Camaro, we split to our respective sides.
    “So,” he called over the top of the car. “Burger King before or after?”
    “After.”
    He slipped inside and popped open the passenger-door lock. Then sat back and turned the key in the ignition.
    I opened the door and climbed in. Carefully—the seat was hot against my mostly bare legs. I don't knowif it was the sizzling vinyl or maybe the same nerves that wrenched my belly, but I snapped at him. “You could do with some seat covers. And what, you're only gentlemanly enough to open the door for me at night?”
    “I only opened the door for you because you were crying.”
    “I wasn't crying!” Not
then
.
    “You were about to.”
    “How did you know that?”
    Jared shrugged. “You wouldn't have asked me to drive you if it wasn't really important. And you seemed nervous in the car, and then uncomfortable around him.
    “
And
he reminds me a little of my dad,” he said, and slowed for a red light. “Has his own agenda. Fathers like that can do a number on their kids. Make the girls cry, the guys punch holes in walls.”
    “You've punched holes in the wall?”
    “Once or twice. But mostly I just try to keep the peace.” He turned, and despite his dark glasses, I could tell he was looking straight into me. “I have a feeling you do, too.”
    I laughed sarcastically. “Yeah, by keeping our phone calls and visits to the bare minimum.”
    “For me, it's woodworking. Sometimes I can't wait to get to school and get my hands on the table saw.”
    I wrinkled my brow. “You really like it that much?”
    “Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it.”
    I guess I couldn't argue with that.
    The line between the red ropes at the bank was blessedly short, but at the window the teller pointed us to a desk on the other side of the room. Tension knotted in my neck, and my stomach was about as serene as the evening sky on July 4. Several desks filled a carpeted platform. A lady with collagen “trout” lips sat behind a plaque calling her an account manager. Jared and I walked over, and after quietly explaining that we wanted to make a payment, sat down across from her.
    “Why isn't your parent handling this?” she asked, eyeing me over half-glasses.
    “My dad is handling this,” I insisted, my voice cracking. “See, that's his signature on the check. And it's made out to the bank. I'm just dropping it off.”
    Her brow arched. “What I don't understand is why this payment isn't being made through our payment center, or by one of the mortgagees on the account.”
    Jared, who sat in a cushioned chair beside me, leaned forward. “Her parents are busy. You see,” he said, and dropped his voice to just above a whisper, “they've gotten a little behind financially. And Nicolette here is trying to do her part to get the family back on track.”
    The woman's face softened. “And you, young man? What is your role in this?”
    “I'm her driver.”
    I didn't know if it was Jared's gentle tone, or the factthat he'd taken off his sunglasses and played up his root beer—colored eyes. But the lines in the lady's forehead faded like they'd been shot with Botox, and she reached for her receipt pad.
    “Well, nice to see such enterprising young people.”
    “No slackers here,” he said, exaggerating his smile.
    Not that I didn't appreciate his efforts, but