“Get out,” I said in a hard tone and dared to shove him.
He didn’t budge an inch when I made contact. I might as well push a concrete wall.
“I know you,” he said, realization washing across his face.
My eyes went wide. “How? Are you a stalker?”
Oh, Lord. Did I have a stalker? From everything I’d seen on TV, stalkers were hard to get rid of unless desperate measures were taken. I didn’t have the energy for desperate measures. I barely had the energy to change into something presentable.
“You don’t remember?” he asked, tilting his head to the side, looking confused. “Wait. A stalker? Why would you think I’m a stalker?”
“You’re in my car,” I reminded him.
“You sure about that?”
“Am I…” I blinked and then realized my new, floral, air freshener wasn’t hanging on the rear-view mirror. My backup stash of McDonald’s sweet and sour sauce packets wasn’t in my cup holder.
Upon closer inspection, this car looked cleaner on the inside. Scarily clean, actually. Something I could always appreciate but never pull off for a long duration.
“This isn’t my car,” I murmured as warmth crept into my cheeks.
The guy smiled and nodded at my slow realization, “There you go.”
“And you’re…” I took a moment to look at him without panic blurring my vision.
He looked familiar. Like I’d seen him in a photo or a movie. He kept quiet as I rummaged through my memories. Last year’s horrid events came to mind after a minute. Me in the parking lot, spilling my guts both in a literal and metaphorical sense. Him beside me, being patient as hell without asking for anything in return, not even a phone number.
“The scary but sweet guy,” I whispered, and instantly winced at the description.
He smiled at my words, “Wow, I must have left an interesting first impression.”
“I’m sorry… I meant…” I sighed in an attempt to calm down, “Not scary in a bad way. You’re just big and have piercings and look… nice.”
“It’s fine. I get that often.” He shook his head with amusement in his eyes. The movement brought my attention to a cut on his forehead. I placed my hands on my mouth at the sight.
“Oh, God. Did I…? I’m so sorry,” I said. My palm muffled the apology, so I pulled it back to repeat the words.
He looked confused for a second and then touched the cut. “This? No, I got this yesterday. I was trying to switch out my bandage.”
He gestured to his old discarded bandage on the dashboard. His new one was a smaller band-aid that didn’t look like it’d cover half of the injury.
“That bad?” he asked when I frowned.
“It’s big.” I chewed on my lip, nervous that I had swiped him, and he didn’t notice in the shuffling of it all. “And bleeding.”
He flipped down the car mirror to inspect. “Shit. I thought it’d be more healed by now.”
I scanned the area for more supplies, but all he had was that one, small band-aid. “You’re going to need more than that if you’re trying to clean it. Are you here for the team dinner?”
At this point, I figured there was no way he wasn’t on the football team. Broad shoulders, firm built, eyes that could both melt and intimidate you.
He nodded. “You’re the new coach’s daughter, right?”
I gave him a wary look. “What makes you say that?”
“We all had a one-on-one with him earlier this week.” He was still examining the cut in the mirror. “He bragged about you. Has your photo on his desk too. I thought your costume was cool.”
I wanted to slouch in the chair after hearing that information. Dad had a bad habit of rambling. Kai, me, and my older sister Naia always seemed to come up on his tangents. And I knew exactly what photo this guy had seen on Dad’s desk.
