BANGERZ (2014)

12. Blackout

"So, are you feeling Senioritis yet?" I ask casually. I lean back and prop my feet on the dashboard.

Jason and I are back in his car now, a couple hours after breakfast. We stayed at IHOP for a while eating and talking about the Stat project and school. He told me about his best smart-ass remarks and class disruptions. Turns out the scene with Mr. Anderson and the skateboard stunt I saw on my first day was only part of the McCann Saga.

Now Jason does a half-shrug, half-nod gesture like he's contemplating. He looks good driving, reclined and steering with ease. "To be honest, I had Senioritis as a freshman. School is really depressing sometimes, but whatever. What about you?"

He thinks school is depressing sometimes? Hmm. Can't say I disagree, considering my experience at North Shore. My first few days there weren't exactly inspiring what with the gossip, gawking, and greetings. But Jason and his friends - my friends - have definitely made it better. And easier.

"Not yet," I admit. "Maybe when we get closer to graduating I'll feel it more. Right now it just feels like another year. Especially with all these midterms. I'm just focused on that."

"Nerd," he jibes, and when I pout he grins. "Nah, TK, I'm just playing with you. You don't mess around with your grades. I get that."

"Yeah, you know," I agree indifferently, "securing my future and all that." I pause before the words come tumbling out. "My parents said good grades aren't everything but they definitely help. I'm a high achiever anyway but I still have to work hard. Danny's the one that didn't have to try. Things came naturally to him in high school. And it wasn't surprising when he got into Stanford Med. He only had to put it off because - "

I stop abruptly, my voice catching on the confession. I was about to say because our parents died. My story isn't hard to say but it is hard to tell. And it's too heavy for someone who already carries the weight of the world on their shoulders, on the brink of either lifting it up higher or letting it crush them. That's the best way I know how to describe depression: after my therapy sessions, I have an idea even though I don't have it. That's how I think Jason feels. And I don't want to add any more pressure.

"I'm sorry, I'm babbling," I amend, shaking my head and looking out the window.

"It's cool. I'm curious about you. I told you that."

I turn back to face him. He's throwing me a smirk over his shoulder as he drives, his honey eyes hypnotic. I feel my cheeks redden a little bit but I can't bring myself to leave his bewitching gaze.

"Why?" I murmur.

He shrugs and shifts his attention back to the road. His expression is both helpless and amused, like he can't stand my endless questions but likes it a little, too.

"There you go, asking all them questions," he observes. He pauses for a moment, yielding to his words like he yields to traffic. "I just like what I see, baby girl. That's my answer."

"That's all you had to say." My twin pipes up and takes over, eager to shoot off at the mouth. She's so trigger-happy. And she's gaining more control of me.

"You know why I ask you so many questions?" I challenge, emboldened. "Because you're always so cryptic and mysterious. I'm curious about you, too, Jason. Because I already know you're bad and dangerous and risky. But I wanna know how bad."

He comes to a stop at a red light, twists to face me, and drapes his arm over his headrest. He's looking at me with eyebrows raised, mouth curved into a smirk, eyes wicked and mesmerizing. His gaze drifts up and down my body in that sultry way and his grin gets slyer. Just like that the atmosphere in the car has intensified. I swallow hard and squirm in my seat, getting a little hot and bothered.