“What is she implying?”
“I don’t want to know.”
“You never told your mom about—what happened—with us, did you?”
“Never. And I never will. It would ruin their friendship.”
“I never told my mom, either.”
“Of course you didn’t. She might not love you anymore.”
Another ding on my phone, and when I looked down, I sighed.
“What?”
“She just sent a winky face.”
“A winky face?”
Before I could think better of it, I wondered out loud, “Are they hoping to matchmake us?”
At the question, a laugh kind of burst out of Walker.
“What?” I asked.
“Just—” Walker said, like it should be obvious. “Just. You know. I am the last guy on earth they should ever matchmake you with.”
Wow—okay. That stung.
But:Good reminder, good reminder.Despite all appearances, and his attempts to carry my suitcase, and the way his hands kept caressing the steering wheel ...
Walker was, and always would be, an asshole.
Why did I find it so endlessly impossible to remember that? What was wrong with me?
I turned to stare out the window, even though there was nothing to see but snow flurries, and decided to give him a little silent treatment.
But I hadn’t even begun when we rounded a tight switchback that led into a steep dip ... and the rental car started sliding.
Sideways.
“Shiiiiiitt,” Walker said, cutting the wheel back the other way and braking. To absolutely no avail.
I guess we were suddenly having a car accident?
But it was so different from a normal car accident, where losing control of a car means screeching rubber on concrete. Losing control in the snow was like floating, like drifting. I knew that to the left was an uphill incline and to the right—notablythe direction we were drifting—was a downhill slope ... but through the snow I couldn’t see how steep of a slope. It was all theoretical.
I lost my grip on time, too, surrounded by all that cloudlike whiteness. Walker, still working the wheel, seemed to be moving in slow motion. And then he started shouting instructions, but it took a few seconds for me to grasp what he was saying.
“Lily!” he shouted, while we were still drifting, which seemed so odd, because there was no one else in the car. Who else would he be talking to? “Open your door!”
Open my door? My car door?
“Open your door,” he shouted again, “and jump out!”
“What about you?”
“Justgo!”
