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He rolled his eyes and waved me off. I laughed and walked out to the driveway, sliding behind the wheel of my old Honda Civic. My car wasn’t fancy by any means, but it was reliable. That was all I needed from a vehicle right now. I didn’t understand other teenagers wanting the most expensive thing because when they were on their own and had to get it fixed, it was going to cost them a pretty penny. Whereas my little ‘98 Honda Civic could be fixed right here in the driveway.
Dad and I had done it multiple times when I first got it.
After filling up my tank, it only took me another couple of minutes to get to Emiliano’s. It was the best pizza spot in town. The chain restaurants and franchises had nothing on this little place. Dad and I had discovered it shortly after we moved here when we were still living out of boxes, and we’d been coming ever since. In fact, we were here so frequently that the owner knew us by name.
“Oh, shit!” a girl yelled when the door to the pizza parlor suddenly smacked me in the forehead. I groaned, stumbling back as I tried to catch my balance. My hand quickly reached up to cover the aching spot. She quickly grasped my sleeve, keeping me on my feet. I blinked, rubbing at my now throbbing forehead. “I did not see you there,” she rushed out. “Holy shit, I am so fucking sorry. Are you okay?”
I chuckled and dropped my hand, looking at her. Her hair was midnight black with striking, purple streaks throughout. Her blue eyes, heavily outlined in black liner, seemed to pop, and she was wearing a pair of ripped fishnets under a pair of black, jean shorts. A pair of knee-high Converse covered her feet, and a hoodie with a skeletal hand holding up the middle finger in Pride colors covered her upper half.
I immediately liked her just by her outfit and her hair. She was different, and different was normally pretty cool.
“I’m fine,” I assured her, dropping my hand to my side. I’d have a bruise there later, but at least my hair was long enough to cover it.
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God,” she mumbled. She held her hand out to me, balancing a small box in her other. “I’m Shelby. Only into girls, so please don’t hit on me. Makes me want to throat punch guys when they do.”
I barked out a laugh, surprised by how blunt she was. I quickly clasped her hand in mine, giving it a firm shake. “Spencer. Strictly dickly, so I promise I won’t hit on you.”
Her laugh tinkled through the air. “I like you.” She quickly set her box on the bench and pulled out her phone. I took it from her, admiring her lime-green nails as I did so. “Here—put your number in my phone, will you? What school do you go to?”
“Harwood High,” I told her as I typed my digits into her phone and quickly sent myself a text so I had her number, too.
“Really?” she asked in excitement. “Oh, that’s badass. I do, too. Can’t believe I never ran into you before now.” She laughed at her own lame joke, making me snicker. “I’ll text you, and I’ll definitely see you around,” she said as she took her phone back and slid it into her back pocket. “My brother is going to starve to death, apparently, if I don’t get this Stromboli home to him.” She rolled her eyes at his dramatics.
I grinned, waving at her as she opened her car door. It was an old car, too—a Ford Explorer, though I didn’t know what year. “I’ll see you around, Shelby.”
She waved at me in return before sliding into the driver’s seat of the beat-up SUV. I quickly walked into Emiliano’s and got our pizzas before heading home, giddy at the thought of possibly having made a friend.
Making friends never came easy to me, but Shelby had made it effortless.
CHAPTER 6
Spencer
MONDAY
I looked up in surprise when a familiar pair of Converse appeared in my vision. Today, Shelby was wearing a pair of purple, shimmery leggings and an oversized band tee featuring Slipknot. Her black and purple hair was pulled up into a bun with little strands hanging out around her face. Her eyes were lined in black eyeliner, her lips painted a shade just as dark.
“Hi,” I managed.
She beamed at me. “Hey! I was hoping I’d see you today.”
She and I had texted a bit over the weekend. She was very outgoing and eccentric—the polar opposite of me. But for some reason, she wanted to be my friend, even if I was pretty lame sometimes, which she had no reservations about pointing out, but it was never in a mean way. Honestly, it was sort of amusing.
“What lunch do you have?” she asked me as she leaned against the locker next to mine while I spun the dial on the lock to enter my combination.
I glanced at her. “Um, first,” I answered before I aimed my focus back on my locker and reached in to grab my textbooks out of my locker.
“Oooooh,” she squealed, fist-pumping before turning to rest her back against the locker next to mine. “I have first lunch as well! Maybe we can sit together.”
I laughed a little, nodding my head in agreement. “We can always hang out once I get done tutoring this afternoon, too,” I told her. Her eyes brightened. “My dad is working late, so we can go grab burgers or something from somewhere.”
She beamed at me again. It was so easy to make her happy, which was another thing I really liked about Shelby. She was easy to please and not high-maintenance. “That sounds—holy shit. Is that Ezra Hart coming your way?” she hissed, lowering her voice to a whisper.
I closed my locker door and heaved a sigh. It was too early to deal with his flirting. Steeling my spine, I turned to face him, arching a brow that I knew disappeared beneath my wavy, brown hair, which was flopped over onto my forehead to hide the bruise I was still sporting from Shelby knocking into me with the door. Ezra’s blonde hair was swept to the side, and he was wearing a pair of jeans that clung to the front of his muscular thighs and a hoodie that did nothing to hide his massive biceps.
I almost reached up to make sure I wasn’t drooling. Almost. But crushing on the guy I was tutoring was just asking for complications. I refused to even entertain the idea. So, if I was drooling, I refused to acknowledge it.
“Can I help you?” I asked him when he came to a stop in front of me. As if they could somehow protect me from his advances, I clutched my books to my chest at the devilish gleam in his eyes, ignoring the way my heart was racing.
