Emancipating Andie

“What’s the story behind Andie?” she echoed, the confusion evident in her voice.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s a strange name for a girl, don’t you think?” When she didn’t respond, he added, “So what’s the deal? Were your parents hoping for a boy or something?”

“It’s not my name.”

Chase turned toward her. “Andie’s not your name?”

“It’s a nickname,” she said listlessly, as if she had just reached her limit in dealing with an inquisitive child.

“So you prefer people to call you Andie? What’s your real name?”

“None of your business,” she blurted out before he had even finished his question.

He lifted his brow as a stu

Chase sat back against his seat, turning his head slightly to stare out the passenger window. He didn’t like the feeling he had right now; he felt almost…remorseful.

It was foreign to him, feeling contrite. Normally, if someone couldn’t handle his sense of humor, his way of thinking, his opinions, then that someone was automatically off his radar. That was just how he was. But for some reason, with Andie, it didn’t work that way. It made absolutely no sense. He didn’t even know her, so it should have been that much easier for him to write her off. But the fact that she was upset, that she seemed uncomfortable right now sitting next to him, actually bothered him.

It’s because she’s your friend’s girlfriend, he thought. Of course you give a shit if you’ve upset her. Colin wanted you to make this drive easier for her, not torment her the entire time.

A few minutes later, Chase became aware of the volume being lowered on the radio, and he looked over to see her thumb on the button, turning the music down. She glanced at him but said nothing, bringing her eyes back to the road.

He had no idea if she meant that to be an invitation or not, but he decided to take it as one. Chase took a small breath before trying again.

“So,” he said, turning to face her, “what’s the plan?”

“What do you mean?”

“What are we going to see?”

She looked at him, her brow pulled together.

“On this drive,” he clarified.

“Um…highway? Some farms? Lots of other cars?”

He stared at her with an amused expression until she said, “I don’t think I understand the question.”

“Aren’t we making any stops to sightsee?”

“No.”

“None?” he asked with a combination of surprise and disappointment. “That seems like a waste. There’s some cool shit on this drive.”

She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, and Chase turned further in his seat to face her. “What about Assateague Island? Or we could stop in Atlantic City for a few hours. Or actually, you know where I’ve always wanted to go? Tybee Island. There’s supposedly this kickass lighthouse there…some great photo ops.” He waited for a response.

She gave him none.

“Or,” he said slowly, “we could make a stop at Crystal River. I hear they have the largest population of manatees in the country.”

She turned to face him then, looking at him as though he had lost his mind, and he pressed his lips together to fight his smile. “I mean, if that’s more your thing.”

“We’re not stopping to sightsee,” she said matter-of-factly as she turned back to the road.

“Why not? That’s what a road trip is all about.”

“Because we’re not on a road trip. The wedding is on Friday. If we follow my original plan, we’ll stop somewhere in South Carolina tonight and get down to Tampa sometime tomorrow afternoon. It’s timed perfectly. I didn’t account for any stops at tourist attractions.”

Chase turned in his seat, his expression thoughtful. “Or,” he said after a minute, and Andie glanced over at him, “we could not stop to sleep and use those extra hours to see some cool shit instead.”

“Drive on no sleep? Yeah, that sounds like a brilliant plan.”

“No, of course we’d have to sleep,” he said. “We’d just switch. You could sleep, and I could drive—”

“No,” she said smoothly before he even finished his explanation.

“No?” Chase echoed. “Why not? You don’t trust me with your car? Not for nothing, but this is a Prius, not a Porsche.”

“That’s not the point,” Andie said. “I just…I don’t let anyone drive my car.”

“You’ve got some serious control issues,” Chase said, the words out of his mouth before he could think better of them.

“Excuse me?” Andie said. “You don’t even know me. So don’t—”

“You’re right, I don’t know you,” he said, cutting her off, his own voice rising in spite of himself. “All I know about you is what you’re showing me. And right now, with the way you’re acting? With your rigid driving plan, and your ‘nobody drives but me’ nonsense? What you’re showing me is that you have control issues. Hardcore, grade A, first-rate control issues.”

Andie whipped her head toward him, her eyes blazing, and he met her stare. She turned away first, swatting off the radio and bringing both hands to the steering wheel, and he leaned back in his seat, a smug smile curving his lips over the fact that she had turned away first. Sure, he realized that she needed to keep her eyes on the road, but fuck it, he wanted to celebrate it as a victory.

They drove the next half hour in complete silence. Andie didn’t turn the radio back on, and every now and then, Chase would glance at her hands on the steering wheel; they were immobile, her knuckles white as she gripped the wheel at ten and two.

This would be impossible, he realized, trying to keep this drive amiable. She got fired up too easily, and if he were being honest, he enjoyed the reaction too much. It was a bad combination. And he wasn’t about to put on some act for the next two days just because this girl was overly uptight. They’d both be better off if he just kept his mouth shut; she obviously wasn’t dying for company, and he didn’t mind spending the next two days in thoughtful silence.

He rested his head back on the seat and closed his eyes, inhaling slowly.

At that moment, without his sense of sight, her scent consumed him, and he exhaled with a soft, contented hum in the back of his throat. His eyes flipped open, startled by his visceral reaction to the way she smelled; it wasn’t like any perfume he knew. Not pungent, not fake.

Natural. Understated.

Sweet, but not fruity. Feminine, but not floral. He had no idea how to describe it. What he did know was that it gave him the strangest feeling in his stomach, one that was as pleasant as it was completely wrong.

He looked over at her, hoping she hadn’t heard him, that she wasn’t aware of his reaction to her. By that time, her posture had relaxed some, her fingers loosely curled around the steering wheel. He dropped his gaze to her leg, her left knee bouncing slightly, as if she were keeping the beat to some private tune in her mind.

Of their own accord, his eyes began to travel up her body, over the fitted white tank that hugged the flat plane of her stomach, the swell of her breasts. He lifted his eyes to her profile, her delicate, sloping nose, her pouty mouth. At that moment her lips parted, the tip of her tongue peeking out to wet her bottom lip, and he swallowed hard just as she slammed on the brake, catapulting them into the restraint of their seat belts and yanking him from his culpable reverie.

“Jesus Christ!” she shouted. “You jackass!”

By now Chase’s eyes were safely back on the road, staring at the taillights of the car that had just cut Andie off.

She exhaled heavily, leaning back into her seat. “Sorry,” she said softly.