“Pop your hood,” he commands.
For a split second I resist, but when he straightens up and stares at me through the windshield, it’s like I’ve misbehaved in class or something. I pull the hood lever. Suddenly, I’m out of the car and standing next to him, watching as he clips the wires into place, connecting our two very different vehicles to one another.
“You never told me your name,” he says as his hands fiddle under the hood.
“You’re right.”
He laughs, but I’m really not trying to be funny. I’m trying to decide if I should tell him. If I don’t, can I pretend like none of this ever happened? Like I didn’t immediatelybreak my contract after signing it because I was desperate in a parking lot. Like I hadn’t been sprayed with toilet water that ultimately drove me into his warm, muscular—bare—chest. My eyes trail down his forearms to where his strong hands work, the headlights washing out everything but the thick lines of his tattoos. I know quite a few girls who would kill to be in this position, and I wish they were. I wish it weren’t me. I wish I weren’t currently questioning if this counts as fraternizing. I wish I had a better car.
I wish, I wish, I wish. Snap out of it, Avery. Stop wishing everything away when you should be nothing but grateful! Smile. Be happy. Know that even when it’s bad, it’s a blessing.
“Thanks for stopping,” I say, attempting to channel every doubt into something positive.
“You’re welcome.” His lips press into an unreadable, flat line. One that tells me he’s finished speaking. An uncontrollable urge to part it arises within me. I want to hear him say that it’s okay orsomething.
“Why are you still here anyway? I thought you guys were off today,” I ask, pressing for him to keep on going, unable to stand the silence.
He wipes a dirty hand on the side of his pant leg before digging in his pocket and brandishing a thick, gold watch. It looks expensive. “We had a fan meet and greet thing earlier, and I forgot my watch in my locker.”
“Why’d you wear it if you were just gonna take it off?”
He glances over his shoulder like I’ve asked the most annoying question in the world. In his world, maybe I did. He doesn’t offer an answer. My anxiety climbs. Did I say the wrong thing? Why do I care what he thinks anyway?It’s not like I’ll ever see him again outside of strictly mandated Kings events. We could never be friends because we aren’t even supposed to befraternizing. My tummy ties into impossible knots at the reminder.
I crane my neck to see if he’s almost done, and he glances back at me. Before he can say a word, my phone pings, and I fish it from the tiny pocket in my athletic shorts.
“Oh, Merry Chrysler,” I say under my breath, staring at my phone.
“Hm?”
“Nothing. I just…” All at once, the floodgates that are my lips open, and I spew out every single problem in my life that happens to cross my mind. “I just can’t believe I’m stuck here. With a stranger. How pitiful am I? Surrounded by an entire city of people, and not one person to call for help.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose as I wait for a reply, but Ty doesn’t say anything. Per usual, my subconscious takes this as an opportunity to overshare.
CHAPTER FOUR
TY
Despite the reasonI’m here right now, I am in fact not running a charity. Granting a wish for a sick kid is one thing, but piecing this basket case back together is another thing entirely. I’m just trying to do a good deed by not letting this girl—who is so clearly barely clinging to her sanity—get mugged or worse. I didn’t realize I’d signed up to be her therapist when I offered her a jump.
She’s said so much I’ve missed half of it, but one thing stuck out to me. Maybe it’s the reason I haven’t run for the hills yet. Because she said she has no one else. A heaviness settles over me. In a city of millions, she’s alone. Or at least she thinks she is. It’s something I’ve become too familiar with since my move, and I hate that someone as bubbly—albeit unhinged—as her feels that way. If helping her remedies that for even a minute, it’s worth the earful and whatever other consequences.
“And that’s not the worst part,” she continues, though I haven’t caught the last few words she’s spoken. “It’s badenough that I forgot to water them for a day, but I just realized I’ve been using the wrong water the entire time for the pitcher plants.”
What’s all this water talk? I peek at her from under the hood, afraid to make eye contact, but her hands are pressed over her eyes.
“I killed them!” she wails, pacing in a little circle.
“I hope they at least deserved it.”
She drops one hand and peeks at me. “What?”
“The people you killed.” I dip my head back under the hood, securing the final clamp just as she clutches her invisible pearls, looking appalled.
“Plants! I killed plants!”
“So what?”
She does not take kindly to my nonchalance. “So they aren’t mine. I’m taking care of them while this couple is out of town. It’s my job. I’m a plant sitter.”
