Page 40 of Hairpin Curves

Scarlett was still smiling, but apologetically now. “I’m not making fun of you. I like it.” She paused like she was going to say, “I like you,” but she didn’t. She bit her lip instead. That full, plump lip, that Megan wanted to feel against hers.

Megan surged forward in a clumsy, impulsive movement, leaning up, reaching for Scarlett’s upper arms to get some leverage as she attempted to kiss her. She needed to do this fast, before she thought too much of it, and the adrenaline pulsed through her body and urged her onward.

“Whoa! Easy.” Scarlett easily ducked back, holding a hand out to push Megan away. It was a definite push, a definite refusal. She wasn’t smiling anymore. Her eyes looked wary and she didn’t want Megan to kiss her. Oh, fuck, she didn’t want Megan to kiss her.

Megan felt her whole face burn up with embarrassment. Wasn’t this okay? “I don’t—” she began, but she didn’t know what to finish that with. “Like last night. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“Not like this.” Scarlett’s tone, gentle and soft, was nearly worse than her refusal. “Not when you don’t know what you want.”

Hot tears welled up in Megan’s eyes, the shame of being rejected bubbling up through her and burning her skin. “Let’s just go back.”

Chapter Ten

Scarlett wished she’d slept better as they loaded up the car the next morning. For how drunk Megan had seemed last night, she’d woken up without a hint of a hangover, but that didn’t mean she was chipper. Scarlett had taken steps to prevent her own hangover, like aspirin and a lot of water, but still felt tired as they finished packing the car and grabbed breakfast at the utilitarian breakfast place attached to their hotel. Megan was a person of few words as she ate her meal, avoiding eye contact and making small talk only about the decor in the restaurant. But she apparently wasn’t going to bring up trying to kiss Scarlett, and they couldn’t spend ten hours in a car together today without clearing the air at least a little.

“Do you want to talk about last night?” Scarlett asked.

Megan froze, then shook her head, her eyes locked on the glass of orange juice in front of her. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have done it. I was hoping we could forget it ever happened.”

“I don’t need to forget it ever happened, but maybe we could talk about what you want?” Scarlett tried to keep her tone gentle, because Megan looked like she was going to bolt. “You haven’t done a lot of talking about that.”

Megan stared down at her juice, then drank more of it. “Can’t we just forget it and move on?”

Forgetting it would mean it never happening again. Scarlett wasn’t sure that’s what she wanted, either. “I thought you were still mad at me.”

“I am.”

“And yet the other night—” Scarlett began, but then the waitress came by to clear their plates and deliver the check, and she had to stop. When the waitress left again, Megan jumped in.

“I can get physical with somebody without it meaning anything.” Megan finished her juice and set the glass down. “I thought we were both on the same page about that.”

“It’s not like I mind.” Scarlett didn’t mind at all. “But I’m not going to fool around with you if you’re drunk.”

“Okay. Got it.” Megan looked at where the waitress had disappeared only moments earlier. “Why isn’t she back yet?”

“Give her time. Look. Megan.” Scarlett waited until Megan looked over at her. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Megan snorted. “I don’t want you to think I was only coming onto you because I was drunk.”

Scarlett’s heart skipped, a momentary hope flaring up inside her. Maybe Megan was going to forgive her. Or admit she had feelings. “Then why?”

“Because.” Megan stared, and Scarlett held her breath waiting for the rest of this confession. Finally, Megan shrugged. “Sex is fun. Getting off is fun. I thought we’d broken the ice about that.”

Oh. So this was just about getting off, then. Scarlett ignored her own twinge of disappointment. “Maybe when we’re both sober.”

The waitress came back then, though, and Megan signed her credit card receipt and then bolted for the car.

The GPS led them out to the highway, and Megan accelerated to a more aggressive speed as they headed along the road. Scarlett watched it happen for a little over a mile, and then finally cleared her throat. “Hey, so what’s the matter?”

“What?” Megan asked, like she hadn’t heard.

“Well, you’re staring at the road like it wounded you, and you’re going—” she leaned over to check the speedometer. “—seventy-five miles an hour.”

“You go seventy-five when you’re driving,” Megan pointed out.

“And you barely go the speed limit. So that’s how I know something’s wrong.” Scarlett folded her arms.

“Fine.” Megan sat up straighter in her chair. “Truth or dare?”