Should I say something light? Something funny?
It’s inconceivable. I don’t have it in me to joke around when I seem to have offended Riley or made her mad.
I study every inch of her face. The ponytail with the two tendrils at the front. The dark brows. The pretty eyes. The rosy cheeks. The beautiful but unsmiling lips.
“Are you angry in general or are you angry with me?”
Riley pushes another page of her document. “I’m not angry. I’m busy and I don’t have time for your constant interruptions.”
Ouch.
I take a step back. “Oh, I… didn’t realize you were busy. I should have texted first.”
Riley’s hands go still, and she looks up. The way she’s scowling at me, as if I’m enemy number one, makes me wince.
“I don’t have time to text either.”
My mind continues to race.
“Just because you have a lot of free time doesn’t mean that I have the same. I want to focus on the shop. I can’t afford distractions.”
I hold my breath, processing her words. Maybe Rileyisoverwhelmed with the garage. I could understand that, but if that’s all it was, why is she looking at me like I threw her favorite toolbox into the river? It feels like she’s shutting me all the way out of her life. But why?
“Riley—”
“I’m busy, Nat.” She says my name in that angry-teacher way again and her dark eyes slide to the door and back to me in an obvious sign to get out.
My feet refuse to move.
I want to hash it out, dig deeper, figure out what I broke so I can fix it.
But Riley’s harsh stare is so sharp and unforgiving.
Now is not the time to argue.
Feeling like I’ve lost an important game without even stepping foot on the ice, I back out of Riley’s office and close the door softly behind me.
I step into the sunshine, moving on autopilot to my car and somehow backing it out of the lot. But instead of driving off, I let it idle on the street.
What just happened?
I stare at the large doorway of the auto shop that could let in the very Mack truck that just ran me over.
Whaton earthjust happened?
Riley and I were texting last night. Everything was good. She started flirting a bit, so I responded in kind and let her know that she’s more important to me than she thinks. Did I scare her off? Is that why she’s drawing the line?
I run my fingers through my hair, wishing I could time travel to last night and never send that text. I’d rather be Riley’s stand-in brother for the rest of my life than be shut out.
Pulling out my phone, I start drafting an apology, but I stop just short of sending it. Better to let Riley cool off and then I can reach out to her—when her schedule allows, of course. I’m not going to risk showing up unannounced again.
I return to practice without eating lunch and get through the drills as best as I can with Riley weighing on my brain.
“Campbell! Faster! Faster! Are you awake over there!”
I gasp for breath and push myself harder, realizing that I’d zoned out during the drills.
By the time Coach calls it, my leg throbs more than usual, which is strange because we haven’t done anything out of the ordinary today.
