He leaned over the passenger seat, opened the door to his sexy, blue-with-white stripes ‘65 Shelby, and Keila climbed in, feeling like a sneaky teenager. “Hey,” she muttered. “Hey,” he said as soon as their eyes met. He then quickly looked away and pulled back out onto the street, his posture rigid. “Are you having second thoughts?” she asked. “No,” Jake sighed. “But I should be.” “Then maybe you should just stop here and I can walk back home. I’ll be fine.” “I’m not having second thoughts,” he assured her, more firmly this time. “Okay, then, before we get too far, just one more thing.” Taking a deep breath, Keila voiced her one small, but important request. “Just promise me you won’t kiss me, Jake. I’m notorious for my self-control. Heck, I was dumped for it, but you need to promise me you won’t kiss me. I believe you’ll keep your word.” Jake turned to her then and smiled a slow smile, his whole demeanor loosening up. “I promise I won’t kiss you,”
