Golden flecks catch in his green eyes beneath the late afternoon sun.
His fingers drag through my hair. “Hopefully this place has spray paint.”
“I’m sure they do,” I say.
He drapes his arm over my shoulders as we head inside. And because I have a fear of being attacked in a gas station bathroom, he waits right outside the door while I go. I take a long moment to stare at myself in the hazy mirror. This place doesn’t have air conditioning and sweat breaks out along my neck.
My phone keeps vibrating in my back pocket, but I’m off grid this summer.
The bathroom door bangs open and three women walk in giggling. They’re probably a little older than I am, but they’re loud enough in this small space to overhear.
“Did you see his eyes?” one of the girls says.
Another one pretends to fan herself with her hand. “So damn sexy.”
“You should ask for his number,” the third one pipes up as one of them quickly glances at me, then looks away.
“I don’t know,” the first one says. “A guy that hot probably has a girlfriend.”
“He didn’t have a ring on his finger,” the third one argues. “If they’re not married, they’re fair game.”
I finish washing my hands and reach for a paper towel.
Except there aren’t any.
Figures.
All three girls head into the stalls as I dry my hands on my jean shorts.
They keep talking. Going on and on about the hot guy when it dawns on me that other than Wilder and me, Cash was the only other person in this gas station.
Do they have a crush on Cash?
I hurry out of the bathroom to tell Wilder.
“You’ll never guess who those girls were falling all over in the bathroom,” I whisper-yell to Wilder.
He shrugs. “No idea, Blondie.”
I point to Cash across the way. “Cash, obviously.”
Then, I tilt my head to the side as Wilder says, “Is he looking at a box of condoms?”
Yep. That’s exactly what he’s looking at.
“Do you think he’s preparing for, you know, when he meets Britta?” I wonder aloud.
“God, I hope so,” Wilder exhales.
We wander over as Cash puts one box back and picks up another.
“Extra small, huh?” Wilder teases Cash.
Cash’s neck instantly reddens.
When he turns around, his face is the same shade.
“I’m doing… research,” he says, failing miserably.
