I know we've come to an agreement of some sorts, that we're some sort of sex buddies, although we haven’t had sex yet. Regardless, that doesn't mean she can distract me during class, especially during biology.
Class ended a while ago and soon after, I did some volunteering for the stem club.
Now, I'm behind the school building, smoking. I take a small drag of my cigarette, the smoke filling my lungs and instantly hitting my head.
Although the habit is filthy, I'd like to say that I'm smart about it. I don't do it often, only when I'm nervous or in need of some quick relief.
I continue smoking as I walk toward the parking lot. My idle hand fishes for my phone in my blazer and my fingers hover over my brother’s contact. He dropped me off today, so I should call him back for a ride—at least that was my thought process before I looked up.
The parking lot is pretty empty besides a few cars, one of them being Juliette's black Maserati. She's hovering over the bonnet of her car, looking entirely perplexed.
She's still here. She's never here after school ends, unless it's cheerleading practice. They don't have practice today which means she's been here for at least two hours.
I watch her for a little while. She keeps coming in and out of her car, trying to get the engine to start, but it won't. Even ridiculously expensive cars have problems, who would have thought?
Before I can think, my feet are dragging across the floor, propelling me towards her. I walk up a few steps behind her, just enough to see that she has no idea what she's doing. She's just huffing and messing around with the wires.
I shake my head, hiding my smile. “Your mechanical skills are laughable.”
She freezes for a moment, before turning around, whatever embarrassment she felt at my words dissolved as she crosses her arms over her stomach.
I see her look around the parking lot, probably trying to make sure no one sees us speaking to each other without death threats.
“Why would I need those skills when I can just pay somebody to be my mechanic?” she retorts, that mischievous glint in her eyes.
I find it so amusing that she is still so confident and witty, regardless of the fact that I've just pointed out her shitty mechanical skills. I also find it annoying, because it's sort of endearing.
“So why aren't you paying someone to help you right now?”
The real question is; why am I still standing here speaking to her right now? I could just call Adam and go home right now.
“Because everyone knows my mother, so if I call them, they'll tell her and then she'll call me and complain about how I should be independent—”
“She's right.”
It's exceedingly painful to be agreeing with Samantha Kingston, but she is right. No matter how much money you have, you should learn practical skills, especially when it comes to your car.
She rolls her eyes. “Can you go be annoying somewhere else?”
I smirk at her, then look towards her open bonnet. Now here's the thing, Adam is a mechanic and he's always taught me stuff about cars. So technically, it would be my moral obligation to help her out.
Right?
“Move over,” I tell her.
“What—”
“Go sit in the car. When I tell you to, try and start the engine again.” I cut her off.
I expect her to argue with me, maybe make a show of how prideful she is. What I don't expect is for her to make an adorable little huff before walking back into her car. She's actually listening to me; I like it.
I inspect her engine to see if anything has leaked, but it hasn't. Then my eyes wander over everything else and I realize her spark plug is loose.
I pull out a pair of gloves from my blazer pocket. Usually, these gloves are strictly reserved for a snowy day, but there's no way I'm getting my hands dirty for her.
I move my hands toward the spark plug and tighten it a little, putting it into place.
“Start it now,” I tell her loudly; she nods before turning her keys and instantly, her engine roars to live.
