“What’s this?” she asked.

“I bought you some new hair bands. You keep taking them and not bringing them back.”

She took the bag, and when she turned it over in her lap, more than just hair bands came out. A small stuffed Smurf—Smurfette—fell into her lap. She looked at him.

His grin widened. “I’m sorry, I saw it and I had to buy it. Seriously, I tried to walk away and couldn’t. It called my name and wouldn’t let me leave. And you should have seen the look I got from the big bald tattooed guy at the register.”

Before she realized it, she was smiling back. “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” Their eyes met and held for a second too long.

She pulled one of the hair bands loose and put it in her hair. He watched her and she saw his gaze slip to her br**sts for a couple beats, and she sensed he was remembering their time in the closet. And, for one tiny second, she almost envied Natasha, who had lived it all while she’d only gotten to live a few seconds of it. How odd was it that a girl facing death was experiencing and letting herself live more than Della was?

“We should go,” she said, remembering her conversation with Holiday.

“Yeah.” He started the car, and as he backed up, he put his hand on the back of the passenger seat, twisting around to look over his shoulder. The move came off as something he always did when he was backing up. But while his hand was there, his fingers brushed against her bare neck. The touch, accidental or intentional, sent a sweet shiver down her spine.

She watched as he drove out of the parking lot, shifting gears. Something about the process just seemed cool. She recalled how when she was younger and her dad would watch the car races, she’d been sort of captivated by the drivers in the cars. When she looked up, Chase was watching her again.

After a few minutes, enjoying the wind in her hair, she noted he’d turned onto a back road.

“Where are you going?”

“You’ll see,” he said.

He drove a few more miles and then pulled into what looked like a country road that ended in an undeveloped subdivision. There were roads, but no houses. He parked the car and then got out and came around to her side.

“What’re you doing?” she asked, still in the passenger seat, looking up at him and seeing herself in his sunglasses. For one second, the vision reminded her of the old Della, one who could have enjoyed just taking a drive with a good-looking boy.

“Scoot over.”

“What?”

“Get behind the wheel. I want you to drive.”

“No.” She shook her head, her ponytail swinging back and forth and tickling the back of her neck. “I told you I don’t know how to drive a stick shift.”

“You don’t know how to drive a stick shift … yet. I’m going to teach you.”

“I … I don’t—”

Before she knew what he intended to do, he slipped into the seat beside her, scooped her up and over the console and gearshift, setting her in the driver’s seat. The quick touch against her butt sent another wave of tingles through her.

She frowned at him, but he just smiled. He was having fun. And God help her, so was she. Maybe it was the lunch of just laughing with friends. Maybe it was the fact that this felt different because she could try something new without having to listen to Burnett ramble on about danger and rules. Or maybe she was tired of the pressure of everything, and, for just a little while, she wanted to forget and have fun.

“Now,” he said. “See the pedals? It’s just like an automatic or a regular car. But it has another pedal. The first one to your left is the clutch, the second is the brake, and the third is the gas. When you start the car and put it in gear, you are going to push the clutch in, then slowly let it out as you push on the gas. It’s that easy. Clutch releases as gas increases. Then you take your foot off the clutch.”

Della had her head turned sideways looking at the pedals. “It’s not that easy, you have to change the gears.”

“Yeah, but that’s simple. When the car needs another gear, you’ll hear and feel it. You let off the gas and do the same thing, clutch in, change gears, then gas again.”

He caught her hand in his and put it on the gearshift. His palm stayed on top of hers to show her how to shift. “Here’s first. Do you feel that?”

She felt his hand. Felt the tingles. “Yeah,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as wispy as she felt on the inside.

“Here’s second.” He moved the shift down. His thumb inched up and down beside her pinkie, sending all kinds of warm wonderful zings to her heart.

He went through all the different gears. Della tried hard to think about the placement of the gears and not the placement of his hand.

“Now you do it.” He moved his hand from on top of hers. Only pride kept her from pretending she couldn’t do it and having him show her again.

She did as he showed her. The only one she couldn’t find was sixth gear.

“Right here.” His shifted a little closer, his hand pressed on top of hers again as he showed her the slight move of down and slightly to the right side. “Do you feel it?”

“Yeah.” She felt everything. How he’d slipped his left arm over the back of her seat and how his forearm now brushed against her shoulders. How when he spoke this close, his breath tickled her cheek.

“You ready to try?” he asked.