Strut the Mall (Love at Westbrook Mall #4)

8. Taxi

8

Taxi

The only sucky thing about breaking up with my designated driver on New Year’s Eve was the outrageous price for taxis. It would be three figures and at least an hour before anyone could get me.

Zack ushered me away from the door when they led Bigfoot through.

“He’s all yours,” I called.

She shot me a dirty look on the way out.

Zack snorted and handed me some napkins. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for a taxi.” I patted down my chest. “Do I still have to leave?”

He frowned and shifted to block me from everyone else’s view. That huge frame of his was good for some things. “How long is it going to be?” he asked.

I showed him my phone. “An hour.”

“Geez.” He tugged his ear and glanced at the other bouncers. “I’d tell you to call Shelby, but I think she’s at Harvey’s.”

“Yeah, well...” I shrugged. It wasn’t any surprise she was cuddled up and happy. Wait. So, he did recognize me as Shelby’s friend? Why didn’t he say anything at the door? Maybe our association was why he helped me get in.

He gestured to my phone. “What about your other friends? Family?”

I scoffed and shook my head. “Drinking, sleeping, and too far away.” Besides, my parents were less likely to answer their phones than roll back over once they saw it was me.

“We can’t let you stay. But I also can’t let you freeze.” Zack stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets and briefly flapped them at his sides. “Where do you live?”

“Cedar Street. The cream condo building.”

He nodded. “I know where that is. Go use the washroom and meet me back here ASAP.”

“Bossy,” I muttered and shuffled off. If they let me stay, I could sober up. Eat pretzels. Drink water. Dance it off or something. Rompers took forever to maneuver enough to do my business, especially while tipsy and tangled in straps, so by the time I got out, Zack was waiting for me outside the bathroom door. It was still surreal to know this huge, gruff bodyguard—er, bouncer—was there for me. Ready to throw me out. Or over his shoulder. Not that I was excited about that or anything. I tugged on my romper’s shorts. “H-hey. What’s up?”

He jerked his chin. “I got the okay to drive you home. Let’s go.”

“Together?” I screwed up my brow and tried not to laugh. “Aren’t you working?”

“Yes.” With a long-suffering sigh, he guided me out. “I’m using this as my break.”

He was giving it up for me? “You don’t need to do that.”

“I’m not leaving a tipsy girl alone in the cold, dark night for some hopefully not-shady taxi to pick her up. Come on.” He laid a hand on my mid-back, right above the cross-straps, and strode across the bar with disarming confidence. Once he said goodbye to the other bouncers, he led me across the parking lot.

I shivered and hugged myself, wobbling in the snow in my attempts to keep up. “Thanks for the ride, b-b-but you really don’t have to do this.” I sniffled.

“I know.” He frowned. “Are you frozen?”

“Yeah.” I clenched my chattering teeth in a tight smile. ”I already lost a boyfriend, but I’d rather not lose a toe.” Unusual feet were too niche a market for me.

Zack’s lip ticked up on one side. Oh, wow. Did I almost make him laugh? Tonight had definitely veered into bizarro-world.

He shed his hoodie and gave it to me. “Here. At least now you can save your upper body.”

“That’s something.” I slid into the sleeves. They enveloped me with a burst of soft, crawl-back-under-the-covers-in-the-morning kind of warmth. The cotton smelled more like old spice deodorant than my spring fresh detergent, but it was nice. Cozy.

His car, however, was a total beater. He opened the door for me, and I half expected fast food bags from our old open lunch period to tumble out.

I sat, the bottom of my thighs rubbing against the worn-down seat liners. “Is this the same car you had in high school?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said flatly, grabbing his car brush.

I didn’t mean to insult him. I ran my fingers along the inner door handle and eyed the guitar pick stashed in the cup holder. “I’m surprised it lasted this long.”

“I maintain it.” He closed the door, dusted his car, and got back inside, the outside of his arms red but not bumpy. He sniffed and rubbed his hands.

I snuggled deeper into his jacket, guilt gnawing at my gut. “Do you want this back?”

“No, it’s fine. The heat will be on in a second.” He turned the ignition, and the radio burst to life with an intense guitar riff.

I giggled and twisted onto my side. “Same car, same music.”

He frowned and adjusted the volume. “Did I ever drive you somewhere?”

“No. But you and your buddies… You were hard to miss.” I did a brief, bad rendition of one of his favorite songs from back then.

His side-eye couldn’t stop me from dancing and acting out the lyrics. His lip even twitched up like maybe he wanted to laugh at me. About five seconds into the chorus, I ran out of energy and slumped against the seat.

I waved at the radio. “Always with the old music. Vintage band tees. You were so into nostalgia.”

“Apparently, I’m not the only one.” His pointed glance had me reeling in my seat. What did he mean? I was in the present, baby: the latest fashions and technology, Top 40 music. Trendsetting, eventually. That was the future .

I tugged his hoodie farther down my legs. “Don’t pretend like you know me.”

He shrugged. “We did go to high school together, apparently.”

I squinted at him and plucked the hoodie zipper. “Yeah, like you ever noticed the quiet girl in hand-me-down clothes.”

He frowned at the road, all efficiency as he drove. “Who cares about that stuff?”

Me, obviously. His laissez-faire attitude was yet another dodgeball sting to the chest.

He flicked the merge signal and twisted to look over his shoulder. “My family does clothing drive stuff all the time. Swap-meets. Half my wardrobe belonged to somebody else at some point. That hoodie you’re wearing is second-hand, and it’s one of my favorites.”

I clutched the soft fabric. It was nice, actually. His favorite? And he leant it to me?

Zack furrowed his brow. “You were quiet, so we didn’t talk much. It’s not that surprising.”

I tugged on the hem of the hoodie, willing my cheeks not to heat. It wasn’t my fault he breezed by me all the time. Sure, I was more confident now, but he…

His voice cut through my memories. “Now, we know each other through Shelby.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention, wiggling with electricity. “Is that why you’re helping me?” Pity for his cousin’s friend?

He sighed. “I already gave you my reasoning.”

I crossed my arms and glared out the window. “Fine.” He didn’t have to tell me. I wasn’t sure what I wanted his reasoning to be, anyway.

We sat in relative silence besides the blaring guitar for the next few minutes. I took a selfie in the car. Might as well get some cute photos of this night so it wasn’t totally wasted.

He rested one hand atop the wheel and glanced at me. “You’re different now.”

“Thankfully,” I said.

“No, you–I think you were in my science class. Is that right?” He scratched his ear and glanced over. “Mrs. McDeeds?”

“Yeah.” I stared at him, my phone hot in my hand. The world outside was slow motion–windshield wipers squeaking, cars blurring. But Zack, here, was talking normally as if he really did know me.

He drummed his fingers on the dash. “You used to be too timid to ask someone to take their foot off your chair. I didn’t picture you as the type to rip out a girl’s hair.”

“Oh, god.” I rolled away from him to press my burning forehead against the cool glass. Was that all he was going to associate with me now? A neon green T-shirt and a messy bar fight? “Was it that bad?”

“You threw a lemon wedge,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I was trying to make lemonade out of a bad situation.”

Zack’s laugh boomed through the car and vibrated the windows.

I lifted my head from the glass. My lips lifted at his smile, which wasn’t blocky or square at all. For a second, he wasn’t the quarterback. He was just a guy, a nice one with a contagious laugh.