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“Oh, sure, everything is fine. All under control here,” I tell him in a cheerful voice.
With a perplexed look on his face, he asks, “What are you doing out here in the dark?”
A small, worried frown forms between his brows, and I hasten to reassure him that all is OK.
“Ummm, well, Frankie here appears to be having a teeny, tiny problem. I am giving her some time and gentle encouragement, and I am sure she will rally at any moment now.”
“Frankie? You named your car after a waitress in a fifties American diner?” he asks with a small smile, his sometimes serious demeanour softening.
“Hey, don’t insult Frankie or she will never wake up from her little nap,” I tell him, patting the dashboard of my car in a soothing motion. “I will be fine. No need for any help.”
Oliver sighs, knowing full well that chances are he will need to help me.
“Come on, Lilly, hop out. I will drive you home. I think we can both see that Frankie here is out for the night.”
As Oliver steps back and opens my door, I get a good look at him. Why does he always have to look so well put together? Oliver is one of those people who has always had his life in order. From the time he graduated high school, he had a plan, and he stuck to it. University, degree, career. Next step will be marriage, some kids, and a white picket fence. I wince when I think of this. I cannot picture Oliver married to someone. Else.
I shake myself out of these thoughts and notice, not for the first time, how damn good looking he is. Oliver was one of those lucky teenagers who never went through an awkward stage. He went from a skinny kid one day to a dreamboat the next. As we grew up together, I tried not to think of him in that way, tried fiercely to see him as an older brother type. But it never worked. Oliver with his deep-brown eyes, his strong jawline, and his wavy brown hair that does not seem to respond to humidity the way it is supposed to, has always been a fine-looking man in my eyes. Add in the fitted jeans and the polo shirt that hugs his shoulders just so, and well, here I am trying not to drool.
I glance down at my outfit, knowing that I do not look quite as well put together. My cut-off jean shorts and hot-pink (shrunk-in-the-wash) Hello Kitty T-shirt have seen better days. I’m sure what little make-up I applied this morning has melted off my face, and my hair? Well, it’s best not to check what sort of mess the day has left that in.
“Lilly? Are you getting out?” Oliver asks with a hint of amusement mixed with annoyance in his voice as I sit here staring at him, mouth hanging open.
“Oh, sorry! Yes, coming.” I curse Frankie under my breath as I gather my bag and step out of the car. As I look back at my now useless ex-best-friend Frankie, I glance at where Oliver is walking and curse again. Of course Emma is sitting in the front seat of Oliver’s latest-model Lexus, looking on with frustration etched on her face. Oliver’s girlfriend of almost ten months has never made a secret of the fact that both me and Amy, Oliver’s little sister and my best friend, are constant sources of irritation in her life. I often wonder how the two of them are still together when Emma is so rude to the people in his life, but having observed them from afar over the course of their relationship, I’ve noticed she seems to only bring this side out on rare occasion. And when looking at Emma through an objective lens, I can admit she is pretty perfect. She has it all. And she manages to have it all together as well. And she suits Oliver. They are both high achievers with ambitions and goals. Go getters. Whereas I can’t even get my car to go, let alone any other important parts of my life.
I smile to myself at my little pun and give Emma an apologetic wave as I trudge towards Oliver’s car. As I approach, I notice Oliver is giving me a sweeping glance from head to toe and see him smile as he takes in my Hello Kitty T-shirt.
“What?” I ask him with as much dignity as I can muster as I step past him and into his car, bumping my head as I do so.
Oliver laughs as he runs his hand over my head in one soft motion and whispers back, “Nothing, kitty cat,” in a teasing voice, low enough for only my ears. I laugh and try to ignore the goosebumps that are always an inevitable response to any attention I receive from Oliver. I can’t help it if my body enjoys the way he looks and sounds just a little bit too much.
“Sorry, Emma, for interrupting your night,” I say as I settle myself into Oliver’s immaculate car, rubbing my head, messing my hair up further.
“It’s not a problem,” Emma replies with an insincere smile, running her hand in a deliberate motion over her neat, pin-straight blonde hair. Subtle. “Oliver would have stopped for anyone stranded on the side of the road.”
Huh, well, that put me in my place as no one special, which was Emma’s intention, I know. As I glance up, I see Oliver grinning at me in the rear-view mirror.
“Only Lilly and Frankie would choose to have a falling out and break up at this inconvenient time,” he jokes, and in my mind, I give him a little clap for this display of humour.
I flushed with embarrassment at Emma’s jibe but am feeling somewhat placated by Oliver’s attempt at a joke. I know he is trying to smooth over some of the sting from Emma’s remarks, something he has to do often, a fact that causes endless strife with Amy and Emma, both questioning where his loyalty lies. I don’t get involved with this, though, always knowing where I stand with Oliver as annoying little sister 2.0. Silly Lilly, always a minute away from disaster. This is one of the reasons I have been keeping my distance from Oliver in recent months; I don’t want to be a source of any conflict or discomfort in his life.
“So I will take you home and you can organise a tow truck for Frankie?” Oliver asks, back to being pragmatic and serious while I revel inside at his continued use of my car’s nickname.
“Sure, sounds good,” I say, distracted now, my mind focused on what sugary treats I plan to bake when I get home. Should I make brownies or cookies or both? I’ve had a rough night. Both it is.
“Lilly,” Oliver says in his stern, pay-attention voice. “You have to get this sorted tonight, OK?”
I nod and salute Oliver from behind his seat with a smile. “It will all get sorted, Ollie. No worries.”
“You should have roadside assistance for these situations, Lacey,” Emma pipes up, her voice dripping with condescension.
“It’s Lilly,” both Oliver and I correct her at the same time.
“And roadside assistance would not have been an option today.” I wave my lifeless phone in the air. “No way to call for help on this thing.”
Oliver lets out a groan. Uh-oh, the ever-organised Oliver will not be happy with this information.
“Lilly, you need to be more diligent about these things. I may not always be around to rescue you.”
