Joyride Page 47


A male voice greets him on the other end, but I can’t tell who it is or what he’s saying. “We’re on our way,” Arden says. “About fifteen minutes out.” Then, “We hit a hole right past the old creek sign … Yeah … No, we’re not stuck … Everyone’s there already?” He scowls at me. “Well, maybe you’d better come get us then.”

I waste no time in confronting him when he hangs up. “Someone’s coming to get us? So we’re definitely, absolutely stuck.”

He rolls his eyes. “The word ‘stuck’ implies that our situation is permanent. That’s not the case. Betty would have gotten us out of it eventually, but since we’re the only ones not at the party, I thought you’d want me to get us there quicker.”

Oh, right. I’d want to get to a party full of his obnoxious friends quicker. I’m not even sure why I’m coming—except that he’s been doing his part of the bargain. He’s actually been studying and doing his homework every day. In exchange, I’m trying to make an effort to get to know his friends. I mean, we sit with them at lunch sometimes. That’s enough for me, frankly. But a tailgate party in the middle of the muddy woods with a bunch of rich kids? No thanks. Still, Arden thought it was a good idea to let our friends—his friends, since I don’t have any—“acclimate” to our new relationship.

I can’t tell if this is a test for me or a test for them. Maybe both. Or maybe Arden is testing out whether or not he can adjust to having a girlfriend. Either way, I’m stuck going. He actually got an A on his last social studies test—I owe him this much.

“That’s very considerate of you.”

He smirks at me. “Do I get a reward for being considerate?”

I inch across the bench seat, until there’s no space left between his lips and mine. He pulls me into his lap to get a better hold on me. That’s how his friend Braden finds us a few minutes later—or how he would have found us if not for the dirty windows. Maybe mudding has its benefits after all.

Arden waits for me to move back to my seat before opening the driver’s side door and greeting his friend. I think Braden is on the football team—he’s certainly big enough to be—but I’m not sure. Braden stands at the edge of the “puddle” we’re not stuck in. He’s got a big chain in his hand, which ends in a big hook.

Arden balances himself between the door and the truck and pulls himself up onto the roof. Getting dirty is inevitable at this point, but I guess it’s better than actually walking around in what looks like several feet deep of red clay. When he maneuvers onto the hood of Betty, Braden carefully tosses him the chain, which Arden catches with the grace of an old pro. Arden crawls to the front and leans forward with the chain. After a few grunts and shifts, he’s crawling back into the truck cabin.

“Braden’s going to pull us out,” he says cheerfully.

I wipe some of the orange mud off his arm, then rub my hand on the seat between us. “Braden is nice?” I say without looking at him. He must be somewhat civilized if he’s willing to leave a party to come tow his friend out of a mudhole.

Arden puts his hand over mine. “They’re all nice, Carly. Once you get to know them.”

When we finally get to the party—which turns out to be a clearing in the woods with a bunch of trucks backed up to what looks like an actual pond of mud—I’m mortified to find that I should have worn a bathing suit. All the girls, every single one, are wearing bikinis. Small bikinis. Microscopic bikinis.

“You didn’t say anything about swimming,” I accuse Arden.

“There’s nowhere to swim here.”

“Please tell me they’re not mud-wrestling. I swear I’ll bludgeon you, right here and now.”

He presses his lips together. “August ended like, yesterday, Carly. It’s still hot out. They like to wear their bathing suits. It’s not a big deal.”

But it is a big deal. I’m in a T-shirt and shorts. I’m already different from them in so many ways. Couldn’t he have just prepared me for this one thing? “I could have worn my swimsuit.”

“I’ve seen you in your swimsuit, Carly. And there’s no way you’re wearing it around this bunch of perverts.”

I grin. Also, I blush. “You did it on purpose? To, like, protect my honor or something?”

“I’m protecting their noses from my fist.” He sounds gruff and agitated, and it’s adorable.

“I’ve never seen a jealous Arden Moss.”

“Take a good look,” he says, giving in to the slightest of smiles. He lifts me out of the truck then, pressing me into him before letting my feet touch the ground, so that I slide down the length of him.

It’s definitely hot out.

“Hey, Arden,” a girl calls out. “It’s about time you showed up. Where have you been lately?”

He nods to the voice behind me. “Hey, Jen,” he says with too much familiarity. Or is it just me being jealous now? “I’ve been around.”

Does he have a past with this Jen? Does he have a past with every girl here? How am I supposed to not think about that now? I know his reputation. I know the rumors. But I haven’t directly asked him about any of it. Clearly I was in denial. Because now I want to know all of the things.

“Let’s go to Chris’s truck and get some food. He usually brings a grill, and I’m starving,” Arden says, taking my hand and hauling me behind him. “You like hot dogs and chips and other gourmet items, right?”

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