Now she understood why Adrian had never let her drive the Chevelle. Nathan’s car was like steering a wild horse on a two-lane road. The first turn was terrifying. The next was amazing. When she gave it gas, it rattled her body like an earthquake.
Nathan was almost eerily calm when she gunned the engine or underestimated a turn. He kept both hands resting against his thighs, still stealing glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. His attention made her skin feel tight and sensitive. Every look was like a touch. Combined with the adrenaline of the drive, she was turned on in a way that felt as sacred and vital as the blood coursing through her veins.
Matt used to call her insatiable. He meant it as a compliment, but it was also judgment, something to distinguish her from the other women he used to date. Once they were married, insatiable became a switch that she had to turn off to be more palatable. She was a Black woman, with a teenage mother bio that everyone loved to applaud in public but mentioned skeptically behind her back. If a woman flirted, Rachel never played along. If a man held her gaze too long, she’d avoid him the rest of the night. She even hid her sex toys in a plain black bag, deep inside her closet so her own husband wouldn’t be reminded that he’d married a woman who owned a dildo.
But that was before she’d extorted Matt for money. She’d felt the change in herself the moment she’d asked for Nathan’s car keys. The insatiable switch was back on and dialed up to its thirstiest setting. Nathan took up so much space in the car that his body was impossible to ignore. He had to be five or six inches taller than she was. His biceps were nearly the size of her thigh. What would it feel like to be held by someone like that? Someone big enough to block out the sun.
He pointed to a street on their right. “Don’t miss the turn.”
Rachel jerked the steering wheel left and then tried to quickly spin it in the opposite direction. The car fishtailed. This time, Nathan covered her hand with his. Her pulse skyrocketed from a rush of fear and adrenaline. And his touch. Their intertwined fingers guided the car onto the side of the road.
Her hands trembled as she turned off the ignition. Nathan touched her headrest and leaned closer, watching her with worried eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” It came out as a gasp. Her body was still humming. “Nathan, that was amazing. It made me feel so… alive.” She groaned. “That’s corny, I know.”
“No, it’s not.” He smiled. One side of his mouth lifted a little higher than the other. A perfect face with an adorable, perfect flaw. “I could tell as I was watching you. Made me remember driving it for the first time.”
“I always wanted one of these. I forgot until I saw yours.” She ran her hands over the steering wheel. “I think I’ve forgotten a lot of things about myself.”
They fell silent. His eyes were on her again, but this time it felt more like analysis. She was a riddle he wanted to solve. Maybe he’d see something she couldn’t. She could barely track her own emotions from one minute to the next. An hour ago, she’d been standing in front of Sofia Cárdenas, desperate to be seen as something more than Matt’s appendage. Now she wanted to turn the gas back on and keep driving until she disappeared completely.
Rachel looked away and focused on their surroundings for the first time. She didn’t recognize the neighborhood. “Where are we?”
That crooked grin sprang to life again. “A block from the best burger of your life.”
The restaurant was a walk-up with picnic tables out front. The Stand was printed on a large sign in bright red letters and repeated in Spanish on the bottom. If they had been on the west side of town, there probably would have been more kitschy nostalgia like shiny chrome napkin holders that doubled as credit card readers. But this place was authentic and lived-in. The walls had been repainted numerous times. The tables showed signs of repeated weather exposure. The poles that held up a wide awning were covered with rust and overgrown weeds at the bottom.
It was late afternoon, and the tables were empty. Rachel stopped to study a menu posted on a bulletin board, but Nathan kept walking to the counter. He tapped an old-fashioned call bell and leaned through the cashier’s window. “Can we get some service out here?”
His rudeness surprised her. But maybe that was his thing—nice to pretty girls, mean to the waiter. “Hey,” she said, catching his eye. “Can you give them a minute?”
A stocky, gray-haired man appeared in the window and snatched the bell away. “？Tócalo de nuevo y escupiré en tu comida!”