The Tourist Trap

Chapter 19

I held my breath as I toured the BMW around the concrete island in the center of the Logan Lanes parking lot. Or what had once been Logan Lanes. 

The bowling alley had closed its doors four years ago and the roof had collapsed during a blizzard this past winter. Weeds pushed up through the cracks of the concrete parking lot and the far end had become a dumping ground for old tires, rusted-out cars, an ancient refrigerator, and various other oversized garbage items. 

It was an eye sore but a great deserted spot for a driving lesson.

"Good. See? You're getting it," Jared said, dripping his arm across the back of my seat.

I was already sweating from concentrating and driving under the rising sun, but the touch of his arm on the back of my neck doubled my body temperature.

Concentrate Cass. I told myself. Do not drive his car into a wall.

For the first half hour, all I had done was buck around and stall out. Now, for the first time, I had gone from first gear to second gear and from second gear to third gear with almost no stuttering.

"Now try slowing down," Jared said.

I eased up on the gas, putting the clutch to the floor, and downshifted into second. 

It took a moment for me to find the gear and we coasted, but then I found it and we lurched once as we slowed. 

"Oop. Sorry," I said.

"No. It's good," Jared said. "Another half hour of this and you'll be an old pro."

I glanced at the clock on the dashboard and shoved my foot down on the brake and clutch at the same time.

Jared flew forward, got caught by his seat belt, and bounced back.

"You definitely know how to stop," he muttered, rubbing his chest where the seat belt had squeezed him.

"Is that the right time?" I asked, my throat going dry.

Jared checked his apple watch. "Yeah, it's eleven fifteen. Why?"

Oh my god. Donna. She was going to kill me. She looked forward to this trip all year long and here I was more than an hour late.

"I told you this had to be a short lesson!" I wailed, throwing the car into first gear, then second, heading for the exit.

"You were the one who kept saying ten more minutes," Jared said. "Who knew you were such a perfectionist?"

"Oh, god. He was right. This was all my fault.

Between enjoying my time with him and loving the whole stick shift thing, I had subconsciously blocked out the fact that I was supposed to be hanging out with Donna. 

I paused at the edge of the parking lot, then pulled out onto Jones Road.

Jared glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. He looked a little skittish.

"What?" I asked, accelerating. 

"You're driving home? Out here on the actual road?" he asked.

My heart hit my throat and for a second I was practically sick with fear. What was I doing? I didn't know how to drive this thing.

I gripped the steering wheel with one hand, and the ball on top of the stick shift with the other. 

Okay, it was just the quiet streets of Lake Logan. I could not let Jared see me panic over something this simple.