Kissing In Cars Read Free Page A

long after you're gone..... "
    Is that my voice? Gosh I sound incredible...
    I'm tapping the steering wheel with both palms, and can see a red pickup truck in my rear-view mirror approaching to pass. Whoever it is, he's hell bent on a mission to get somewhere, and is past me within seconds.
    The windows on the red truck are tinted but I see the shadow of a large figure in the passenger seat crane around once it's past. On the back bumper, there's a sticker that reads "Puck Off," so I can only presume it's guys from school and that they're on the hockey team.
    Confession:I thinkyou and I both know that when you pass a Jeep on the road, it's almost impossible to resist checking out the driver. Have you ever passed a Jeep and not looked? In fact, have you ever seen a Jeep coming down the road and gotten all excited, and then when it drives by you, you're all bummed out because the driver was Ewww? Or taken one look at the driver and thought "Damn that dude is ugly! They have no business owning that sweet ride!" and been completely disappointed? I'd even go as far as to say: it should be a law that all Jeep drivers be pleasant to look at. I mean it, seriously.
    The current laws of attraction state that an attractive girl driving a Jeep is even more irresistible to the opposite sex than any other vehicle - especially one with their hair down.
    It's a scientific fact, er... somewhere.
    It's coded in guy DNA.
    Anyways, like I said - best feeling in the world.
    I will even admit to an air of a smugness about myself when I'm driving. What can I say? I can't help it.
    Soon I'm squeezing into a small parking spot - I groan at the sight of myself in the mirror. What a disaster. Grabbing my bag, I hop out the window without actually opening the door, ala Dukes of Hazard. Before I go any further, I lean over to give my head and hair a good shake, running my fingers through it to get out any knots. When I flip my hair back up my eyes immediate connect with Weston McGrath.
    Well, well, well, what are the odds ....?
    He's openly staring. Again.
    Leaning his shoulder against the passenger side door of the red truck that had passed me earlier, it's obvious Weston is waiting for its driver, who's still inside. Knowing that he had been checking me out on the highway sends an excited shiver up my spine. I can't see his eyes because he's wearing really dark sunglasses, but this time he isn't wearing a ball cap. Messy hair blowing in the breeze, he's changed his shirt (another cut off tee shirt) and is wearing Hawaiian printed board shorts that hang low on his hips. For a brief second I wonder if he has chest hair.
    Ugh, get a grip Molly ! I scold myself and give myself a mental slap.
    He's just so...so.....What's the word for it?
    Intense.
    What is wrong with me today!? These thoughts are so unlike me!
    I can hardly even focus.
    The driver side door opens and Rick Stevens - he's a senior too - walks around to the tailgate and opens it up. I actually have Rick in my marketing class. For such an asshole, he's pretty smart. Shocking, right?
    Rick follows Weston's gaze and takes off his sunglasses. He gives me one of those head nods - you know the kind - the unspoken 'hey.'
    "Little Miss Molly Wakefield, lookin' good. Waz zup?"
    Oh my god, seriously? What an idiot.
    "Hey guys," is my bashful reply. They can't tell because it's hot out, but I'm blushing down to my toes.
    I'm so lame.
    Not sticking around for idle chatter, I give them a feeble wave and scurry to the beach as fast as my flip flops will carry me. My mom once said "Molly, you can afford to flirt a little. It never hurts if you want to meet someone special. And you never know - you just might have fun doing it." This is all very true, but I utterly refuse to be one of those girls . Simpering. Giggling. Fake . The one thing I always wonder: why do guys always fall for that?
    I never once understood it.
    Don't get me wrong: I date.
    Have dated.
    Do the occasional hair toss.
    But over the past