Read Online At First Touch by Mattie Dunman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mattie Dunman
Ads: Link
when I saw Preston getting into his truck. I swallowed my misgivings and ran forward to catch up to him.
“Preston, hey!” He paused, half-in, half-out of the truck and turned until he saw me. His scowl turned to a grin as I stopped beside him.
“Hey, Liz. What are you still doing here?” He was looking past me, obviously searching for his rival. Not seeing him nearby, confidence filled his face with an unattractive smugness. “Carey ditch you?”
I managed not to tell him he was a rapist weasel and gave him my best fake smile. “No, apparently some guy was trying to mug someone in the alley and Carey caught him. He has to go with the cops, so I’ve been trying to get hold of my Dad to come pick me up.”
Preston’s expression darkened for a moment and I could guess his thoughts at hearing Carey was a hero yet again. Finally he seemed to pick up on what I was saying.
“Do you need a ride?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind. Dad must still be at work.”
He smiled broadly and chuckled. “Hop on in. I was just on my way home myself.”
He pulled himself the rest of the way into the truck and I climbed clumsily up into the passenger seat; apparently he had monster truck wheels, because I felt like I was about ten feet off the ground. He started the engine and some kind of heavy metal blared out of the speakers. Without making a move to turn down the tuneless shrieking of the lead singer, he started telling me about the addition to his house he and his dad were building and how he had just ordered more wood at the store. I feigned interest and told him where I lived. He exclaimed happily and said that his grandmother was only a mile from my house.
We kept the conversation light as we motored out of town onto a twisty road shaded by a phalanx of trees. The world seemed compressed into this country road, encased by brightly colored foliage and dappled sunshine. For a moment I forgot my troubles; the unpleasant fact that I had just tampered with someone’s mind without knowing what the long-term effects might be. With an effort, I let go of the worry that I had come so close to being caught by an agent of the Coalition. I looked out the window and took in the scenery as it flew by, letting my mind go blank and give me a brief moment of peace.
Belatedly, I realized that Preston was asking me a question; I tuned in and found he was asking me which house was mine. I pointed at a small brick ranch house on the corner of the street and he pulled forward and turned into the driveway. We had gotten the house relatively cheaply; it had been foreclosed on and was being rented by the bank for a fraction of its worth. It had two bedrooms, a living room and a family room, as well as a sizable kitchen. The outside was plain except for the lilac bushes planted alongside the walls, and the yard was small, pushed up close to the neighboring houses in the development.
He stopped the car and I practically leapt out the door, so thankful was I to be home. Preston jumped down from his side and waited for me, an expectant look on his face. It occurred to me that he was anticipating being asked in. Since the last thing I wanted was to be alone with someone who had attempted rape, I gave him an apologetic smile and started up the steps to the back door.
“Thanks for the ride, Preston. I’d invite you in, but we’ve still barely unpacked and the place is a wreck.” His smile fell and then he recovered himself.
“That’s cool. Do you want a ride to school tomorrow? I’m just up the road from here.” I grimaced and shook my head.
“No thanks, my dad would freak if I rode to school with a boy I just met. I’ll just have to cope with riding the bus.” I gave him a winning smile and moved back a few more steps. “See you tomorrow.”
He seemed to accept the finality of the situation and got back in his truck, waving goodbye with such friendliness that if I hadn’t known what he had done, I probably would have felt some
“Preston, hey!” He paused, half-in, half-out of the truck and turned until he saw me. His scowl turned to a grin as I stopped beside him.
“Hey, Liz. What are you still doing here?” He was looking past me, obviously searching for his rival. Not seeing him nearby, confidence filled his face with an unattractive smugness. “Carey ditch you?”
I managed not to tell him he was a rapist weasel and gave him my best fake smile. “No, apparently some guy was trying to mug someone in the alley and Carey caught him. He has to go with the cops, so I’ve been trying to get hold of my Dad to come pick me up.”
Preston’s expression darkened for a moment and I could guess his thoughts at hearing Carey was a hero yet again. Finally he seemed to pick up on what I was saying.
“Do you need a ride?”
“Yeah, if you don’t mind. Dad must still be at work.”
He smiled broadly and chuckled. “Hop on in. I was just on my way home myself.”
He pulled himself the rest of the way into the truck and I climbed clumsily up into the passenger seat; apparently he had monster truck wheels, because I felt like I was about ten feet off the ground. He started the engine and some kind of heavy metal blared out of the speakers. Without making a move to turn down the tuneless shrieking of the lead singer, he started telling me about the addition to his house he and his dad were building and how he had just ordered more wood at the store. I feigned interest and told him where I lived. He exclaimed happily and said that his grandmother was only a mile from my house.
We kept the conversation light as we motored out of town onto a twisty road shaded by a phalanx of trees. The world seemed compressed into this country road, encased by brightly colored foliage and dappled sunshine. For a moment I forgot my troubles; the unpleasant fact that I had just tampered with someone’s mind without knowing what the long-term effects might be. With an effort, I let go of the worry that I had come so close to being caught by an agent of the Coalition. I looked out the window and took in the scenery as it flew by, letting my mind go blank and give me a brief moment of peace.
Belatedly, I realized that Preston was asking me a question; I tuned in and found he was asking me which house was mine. I pointed at a small brick ranch house on the corner of the street and he pulled forward and turned into the driveway. We had gotten the house relatively cheaply; it had been foreclosed on and was being rented by the bank for a fraction of its worth. It had two bedrooms, a living room and a family room, as well as a sizable kitchen. The outside was plain except for the lilac bushes planted alongside the walls, and the yard was small, pushed up close to the neighboring houses in the development.
He stopped the car and I practically leapt out the door, so thankful was I to be home. Preston jumped down from his side and waited for me, an expectant look on his face. It occurred to me that he was anticipating being asked in. Since the last thing I wanted was to be alone with someone who had attempted rape, I gave him an apologetic smile and started up the steps to the back door.
“Thanks for the ride, Preston. I’d invite you in, but we’ve still barely unpacked and the place is a wreck.” His smile fell and then he recovered himself.
“That’s cool. Do you want a ride to school tomorrow? I’m just up the road from here.” I grimaced and shook my head.
“No thanks, my dad would freak if I rode to school with a boy I just met. I’ll just have to cope with riding the bus.” I gave him a winning smile and moved back a few more steps. “See you tomorrow.”
He seemed to accept the finality of the situation and got back in his truck, waving goodbye with such friendliness that if I hadn’t known what he had done, I probably would have felt some
Similar Books
