So warm

"damn it!" I grumbled as I realized I had left my gym bag in my locker. It was after school and I was on my way to cross-country practice. This was my third year on the team and I was proud of the fact that I was in a prime position to lead us to state this year. Coach Kline was convinced that I would break some records during the season.

Yeah, I was pretty good. And modest, too. And running really, really late. Coach Kline would make me run extra time if I didn't pull my finger out. I jogged back down the hallway toward my locker and collided with someone coming from the opposite direction.

I reached out to grab hold of the other person's arms to steady myself.

"I'm so sorry," I breathed out, feeling embarrassed. My head shot up at the throaty laugh. Clay's eyes twinkled at me as he held on to my wrist. "We've got to stop meeting like this," he said with amusement. I swallowed hard and felt my heart thud against my chest.

I had looked for him at school today. It had been only two days since our impromptu coffee date on Saturday but, strangely, I missed him. I mean, I didn't even know the guy, but I wanted to be around him way more than was normal. But he had been elusive. He hadn't come into the cafeteria and I never saw him in the hallway. I even made a point of waiting outside the creative-writing class I knew he had with Rachel, but he somehow snuck out without me seeing him. Okay, I admit, I was becoming a bit obsessed.

So seeing him here after searching for him for the past eight hours was a bit

of a shock. "I think we need to start wearing neon safety vests or something," I joked, righting myself. I realized we still held each other's arms. I felt all tingly when I realized how close we were. I unceremoniously dropped my hands to my sides, feeling awkward.

Clay released me from his hold and hefted his book bag up on his shoulder. "Probably not a bad idea; you're kind of lethal. It would give me a bit of warning the next time you come careening at me." His smile made me tremble. It was crazy, this effect he had on me.

We stood in silence for a moment. I was suddenly tongue-tied, which was definitely not my norm. “You heading home?" I asked him lamely. It was 3:30; of course he was leaving. What a dumb question. If I could have smacked my forehead, I would have.

"Uh, well, I was thinking of taking a drive, doing a bit of exploring. I still don't know my way around very well." He looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

"Wanna come with me? I could use a local's expertise."

Oh, shit. Clay and me in a car together. Alone. That sounded like heaven. Or the source of some very serious anxiety. I opened my mouth, not sure what to say. I looked at the clock. I was already late for cross-country.

I looked at Clay again as he waited expectantly for an answer. "Come on, Maggie. Please. Take pity on the new kid," he teased. Without waiting for me to say anything, he took my book bag from my shoulder. "Come on." He cocked his head in the direction of the door.

Glancing at the clock again, I shrugged. Screw it. Missing one practice wouldn't kill me.

"Sure, why not? Can't have you wandering around lost in the middle of nowhere. The natives could eat you." Clay laughed. I followed him out of the school, trying not to feel guilty for blowing off practice. But as I watched his fan- tastic ass in his dark jeans, I forgot about guilt and was overcome by unbridled hormones.

Clay put his hand on the small of my back and steered me toward his car. I tried not to sigh at his touch. His fingers felt warm through my shirt and my mind drifted to some very dirty thoughts of his fingers touching me in other places. Wow, I was turning into a tart.

He clicked open the locks and opened the door for me. I looked up at him and beamed simperingly. "Such a gentleman." I batted my eyelashes. Clay laughed again and shook his head after I got inside.

"Well, I try. No sense in revealing my evil intentions right away." His eyes smoldered as he looked at me, and I tried not to gulp.

Clay closed my door and quickly got into the driver's seat. He started up the BMW and I delighted in the smooth purr of the engine. "This is some car. I'll try not to hate you the next time I try to get my junk pile to start."

Clay smiled tightly but didn't respond. For some reason, his car was a touchy subject. He pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

"Do you mind?" I asked, indicating the radio. "Go ahead. There are some CDs in the glove compartment there."

I pulled out a handful of CDs and was surprised to see several of my favorites. "You like Placebo?" I asked, holding up Sleeping With Ghosts.

"Hell, yeah. I saw them live in Miami a few years ago. They're amazing."

"Lucky," I grumbled with good-natured jealousy. I popped open the CD jewel case and put the disc into the player. We sat quietly for a few minutes as the alternative-rock music filled the inte- rior of the car. I was mesmerized as I watched Clay's long fingers drum along to the beat on the steering wheel. Why was it that he could make such mundane actions so interesting? It was official: I was pathetic.

"So, where to, O wonderful tour guide?" Clay asked. I thought for a moment, but ultimately my growling stomach made my decision for me. I pointed to a street sign a few feet ahead.

"Turn right onto Crane Avenue and take the first left," I instructed. Clay followed my directions. "Now pull into the parking lot," I told him, indi- cating the car lot to the left.

"Bubbles Ice Cream?" Clay scoffed. He looked incredulously at the huge pink giraffe that graced the front of the bright-yellow building. "Seriously? This place looks like it was built by a five-year-old," he said as we got out of the car.

I playfully punched his arm. "Don't be so judgy. Just wait until you have Bubbles banana splits. You will die a happy man for having had one," I assured him, tugging on his hand. To my absolute delight, Clay laced his fingers through mine and squeezed. My heart fluttered painfully in my chest.

"I'll take your word for it, Mags." I looked at him in surprise as he so natu- rally used the nickname reserved for my closest friends and family. The sound of my name on his lips was downright sensual. Like a promise. We walked into the ice-cream parlor, the bell dinging as we went through the door. Clay never dropped my hand as we walked to the only empty booth in the place. Sliding onto a cracked vinyl seat, Clay looked around. "This place is packed," he remarked.