My eyes shift from her to the pile of meat and then back to her. “Well,whyare you vegan, then?!”
“Yeah, I don’t get it either,” the guy working the counter cuts in.
“Albert, how many times am I going to have to explain it to you?” Nora asks, throwing her hands up in the air before turning to face me. Then she checks her watch and glances at the front door again. “I’m really sorry, Stevie, but I gotta get back to work or my mom is going to kill me. Can we talk later?” she asks.
Later.I don’t really want to wait until later. After talking to my mom, I’m done waiting to uncover things. I want to start living my second chance, to be an actual friend to Nora, after everything she did for me. She’s different than everyone else here. Definitely way different than Savannah and Rory. Somehow, hanging out with Nora feels more effortless than spending time with the two people I’ve known my entire life. I can’t quite put my finger on why yet, but I want to figure it out. Not thatIshould be giving anyone relationship advice, but maybe I can lend an ear for her boy drama.
“Wait, what are you working on out there?” I ask as she wipes the sweat off her brow.
“Just putting up that new fence that I was telling you about the other day.”
“Well, could you use an extra set of hands?”
She looks over her shoulder at the wall, thinking, and then back to me. Finally she takes in a deep breath and lets it out. “Come on.”
CHAPTER 20
AFTER NORA ASKS ALBERT TOput my “winnings” back in the walk-in, I follow her out the squeaky front door and around the side of the shop, where a four-wheeler is parked in the shade. It’s obviously beenthroughit. The green paint is faded and scuffed, and the tires are heavily caked with mud.
I expect to walk right by, but then Nora plants her boot on the foothold and swings her leg over the seat to the other side. She turns and flicks her head at me as if to sayHop on, but I’ve never ridden one before and to be honest, I’m a little nervous.
“Don’t worry. I have my license.” She smirks, dimples forming in her cheeks that I’ve never noticed before.
Her expression doesn’t reassure me one bit, but I guess it beats walking, considering I almost died of heat exhaustion when we hiked out to the woods the other day.
I step up beside it, unsure of exactly where to get on. It must be obvious by the look on my face, because she reaches back and pats the small space behind her. I climb up about 10 percent as gracefully but finally settle in where I think I’m supposed to be.
She stands up and kicks her foot down onto a metal pedal,throwing her whole weight behind it. The thing doesn’t start so she does it again and again, until finally, the motor growls to life under us. As she plops down on the vinyl seat in front of me, I scoot back to give her as much room as possible, but I’m not sure this thing was meant for two people.
I fumble around behind me, trying to find a spot to grab onto, but nothing feels sturdy enough.
“Hold on to me,” Nora says, raising her voice over the sound of the idling motor as she readjusts the bottom of her cutoff shirt.
I start to reach for her waist, but just the thought of holding on to her like that makes me feel a little… weird. So instead, I clamp my hands over her shoulders, leaving about half a foot of space between the two of us. She turns her face to the side, and the sun lights up her hazel eyes as she peeks back at me.
“Ready?”
“Ready,” I reply.
I was NOT ready.
Nora twists the throttle and my weight gets thrown backward all of a sudden, sending a screech from my throat that I don’t even recognize as my own voice. Just as I start to lose my grip on her shoulders, she releases the throttle and I fly forward into her back, completely eliminating the six inches I had left between us.
“I told you tohold onto me,” she says, bringing us to a stop.
“Well, I didn’t know you meant for dear life!” I yell back at her.
I slide backward on the seat, but then this time, I plant my hands on either side of her waist, wondering if it feels as odd for her as it does for me.
“Ready?” she asks sarcastically, and I roll my eyes from behind her.
“Ready,” I reply, sinking my fingers into her skin, my chest tingling as I prepare for takeoff again.
Nora hits the throttle a little softer this time, and soon we’re flying across the field, racing the big puffy clouds as the wind blows them east. When we run over small uneven patches of dirt and rocks, I tuck my head in behind her, blocking the wind from my face.
As we find our way onto more of a path, Nora pulls back on the throttle a little harder and my stomach jumps up into my throat, my hair whipping all around my face.
I let out a gasp as we take a sharp curve, thinking of my stitches that have just healed. “Nora! Slow down!” I yell, and immediately, she lets off the gas a little.
