“That was an expensive towel...” he grumbled but quickly corrected himself when he noticed me watching him. He puffed out his chest a little. “I would’ve offered it to you... I just forgot it was back there.”
I faked a smile as I dried the ends of my hair. “Thanks, Oliver.”
Dean leaned over the engine as he said, “Do either of you have a water bottle I can use?”
“I do.” I didn’t hesitate to retrieve it from the front seat, surprising myself at how quickly I responded to the question as I handed the bottle over to him. He nodded his thanks and unscrewed the lid. About to tip water into the radiator when Oliver intervened.
“Uh, what are you doing?” he said, taking a step forward. “Is water even meant to go in there?”
Dean released a short sigh, bracing his hands against the edge of the engine bay as he looked over his shoulder to Oliver. “It’s not a long-term fix but it’ll get you to Bay Ridge before your car overheats again... Unless you have some coolant hidden in your trunk too?”
Oliver grinned, though it didn’t reach his eyes, and took a step back again while Dean continued pouring water into the radiator. But something clicked in Oliver’s head, evident from the slight confusion that crossed his face.
“How did you know we were going to Bay Ridge?” he asked.
I tensed — shit — but quickly played off clueless again when Oliver looked at me with a frown.
Tightening the lids on both the radiator and my drink bottle, Dean casually stepped away from the engine.
“Lucky guess,” he shrugged, handing me the water bottle before walking around to the driver’s seat and sitting down. He started the engine, twisting some of the dials on the dashboard, while Oliver watched him closely until Dean joined us at the front of the car again.
“I’ve turned the heater on to move heat away from the engine for a bit. Wait ten or fifteen minutes before you drive it again. You’ll need to keep an eye on the temperature gauge.” He nodded to the water bottle in my hand. “If the temperature goes up again, add more water until you get to a garage.”
Oliver placed his hands on his hips, a serious look on his face as he nodded but paused. “And…where’s the temperature gauge?”
A slight crease formed between Dean’s brows before he lifted one slightly, looking at Oliver with an Are you serious expression. “On the dash. Behind the steering wheel.”
“Thought so,” Oliver said, lifting his chin and broadening his shoulders as he looked back at the engine.
Was he flexing?
“Huh.” The simple sound, a deep hum, conveyed a hint of what Dean was thinking before he moved past us, catching Oliver off guard as he tossed the scrap of towel at his chest as he went.
I expected Dean to keep up the act of pretending to be strangers as he made to leave, so I didn't say anything. However, after picking up the takeaway from the roof of Oliver’s car, Dean dipped his head at us before walking past behind me. Only to slow his steps as he kept an eye on Oliver.
Oliver was too busy checking over the engine for—
I didn’t know what for, or cared. All my awareness was on the casual way Dean leaned in from behind me, brushing the back of his hand ever so lightly and briefly against my upper arm to get my attention. Which it did. Every inch of my skin pricked with goosebumps.
He kept his voice to a low murmur as he said, “See you later.”
Before I could register his words, Dean was gone, breezing down the sidewalk with quiet confidence and untouchability. People moved for him, even when they seemed to not realize they had. Dean owned the space around him with a calm authority others didn’t dare question. For a moment I felt envious and a little awe-inspired. To demand that kind of respect so effortlessly from strangers, through body language alone, was something I could only dream of ever happening.
“Well, he was a real ray of sunshine.” Oliver’s words of sarcasm pulled me from my thoughts as he closed the hood. He scoffed to himself as he began scrolling through his phone again. "Can't believe he ripped my towel.”
It was more a throwaway comment than a conversation starter.
I sighed quietly to myself, pulling the towel tighter around my shoulders as I folded my arms, and stepped up to the front passenger door to lean against it, wishing the time would pass a little faster while we waited 15 minutes.
Staring at the sidewalk, the sounds of a busy summer’s day in Bensonhurst lulled me into a trance while the sun warmed my shoulders and dried my hair. There was chatter and laughter, Italian music playing in a nearby shop, a small dog barking, the flapping of wings as pigeons took off in flight, an engine rumbling over the regular sounds of the traffic.
I looked to my right, to the street corner further down where an emerald-green Cadillac pulled up to the intersection. It was indicating right and soon drove on smoothly around the corner, heading straight along the road Oliver and I were waiting on.
I turned to watch from over the Audi’s roof as Dean’s Cadillac lined up perfectly alongside us. The traffic conveniently slowed just as he had to pass. Oliver was too engrossed in his phone to notice. I doubted he noticed the 15 minutes had passed already either.
The passenger window was down and Dean looked content. One hand on the wheel, the other drumming on the roof as he waited for the traffic to start moving again. He glanced over once. First to Oliver, still oblivious to his surroundings, and then to me.
Would it be wrong to ask him for a lift home instead?
