Page 37 of Chasing Stardust

“Nope.” I draw out the word, emphasizing the p. “He didn’t want me coming at all. Had other plans in mind.”

He tears his eyes from the road and gapes at me. “Don’t tell me he expected you to go party in Daytona.”

“Rehoboth, actually. But it’s a little more complicated than that.”

He shakes his head and turns back to the road. “What a dick.”

Desperate to put Damian out of my mind, I change the subject. “What about you? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

Dash snickers. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Girlfriend, then?” We’re barely friends, let alone anything more, yet I get an unpleasant twinge in my chest at the thought.

“No.” A dark cloud crosses his features. “No girlfriend.”

Curiosity gets the best of me. “Never?”

“No, not never.” He rolls his eyes. “You wanna listen to some music?”

“Wait! You can’t leave me hanging like that. What happened?” I lower my voice dramatically. “You didn’t kill her, did you?”

He bursts out laughing. “No. I didn’t kill her. Although . . .”

“Dash!”

“I’m kidding. She’s alive. If you can call a soulless creature alive.”

“Sounds like she and Damian would get along,” I mutter under my breath. Then, louder for his ears, I say, “How about that music you promised me?”

“Sure.” Dash cranks up the eighties station on Sirius just in time to catch the chorus of Talking Heads’ “Psycho Killer.”

“The plan is to spread Mom’s ashes at Mud Island Park.” Until reading her diary, I hadn’t realized how absent G-Lo had been when Mom was growing up. They’d been at odds for nearly all of Mom’s young life, but during a picnic at Mud Island, some of that icy indifference thawed. “I think she’d like that.”

“Don’t inhale this time.” Dash keeps his eyes on the road, but his lips curl up at the corners. “I don’t care what your grandma says, you can’t get high from ashes.”

“Smart-ass.”

He pins me with a smoldering look that sends ribbons of warmth through my limbs.

“You know”—he cocks an eyebrow—“it’s not too late to bury your body in the woods.”

I tear my gaze from his and flash a saucy smile. “Don’t forget, my grandma knows what you look like.”

“How could I forget? It’s not every day someone’s hippie grandma threatens to dig into my sordid past.” His easy grin tells me he isn’t the least bit worried.

If he only knew . . .

“So . . .” He changes the subject. “Should we start at the new auditorium? I know it’s not the same building, but it’s technically the same place. I could even take some pictures, if you like.”

“I’d like that.” With our itinerary set, I finish my Coke with a loud slurp.

“Want some of mine?” He holds out his cup, beads of condensation spilling over his fingers.

“No thanks.” My stomach sloshes, warning me to pace myself. “I’m trying to avoid unscheduled pit stops.”

“I don’t mind stopping. Besides, I suspect we’ll find at least one public restroom every few blocks.”

“Great.” I force a smile. If Dash knew what it took to squeeze into this shiny Lycra chastity belt, I doubt he’d be so eager for me to wiggle out of it so soon. My insides clench at the thought of getting the clingy pants down and not being able to get them back up again.