I dust the dead leaves, twigs, and a spiderweb off me before handing over her jacket, which is in similar condition to myself.
Lex unceremoniously takes the jacket and steps back, giving me a bit of space. After shaking it out and inspecting the small tear, she tosses it over one shoulder like a cowboy walking into a saloon. With bright eyes, a sharp jawline, and full lips she’d even suit a cowboy hat. Is she even wearing makeup right now? Some people have all the luck.
And now I’m staring. I avert my gaze and try to think of something to say. I’d gone through so much effort to avoid talking to either Lex or Olsen that I hadn’t thought of anything for if my avoidance plan failed, which, in hindsight, I should have prepared for.
“So...” I rise onto my toes and drop back to my heels. “I, uh, I just want to apologize for the other night. You were super kind coming to my rescue like that and saving me from even more embarrassment, and I was quite rude to you.”
Lex stays quiet, which only makes me talk more.
I shift under her intense gaze, searching for more words. “Thank you for lending me your jacket. And sorry for ripping it. I know a place that can fix it, and if you send me the bill I’ll e-transfer you.”
“It’s fine.”
I’m captured by her eyes once more, which stare unflinchingly back into mine, as if trying to solve a puzzle. “Well.” I clap my hands, unsure of what else to say or do. “Guess I’ll leave you to it, then.”
I brush past Lex and try my best not to trip on my own two feet as I walk back down the pathway, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end as I sense her watching me leave. I should have just kept the jacket, or donated it to charity, or burned it in a fire, or—
“Wait.”
I take two more steps before I stop and turn slowly to face Lex.
Her brow is pinched, deep in contemplation. “Maybe I can help you.”
I blink several times, not sure if I heard her correctly. “Help me? With what?”
“You know,” she says, leaning forward. Then, when I don’t reply, she sighs. “The curse?” She doesn’t use finger quotations this time, but they’re definitely implied.
“You don’t even believe in it. How would you help me?”
“I’m a scientist.”
“Really?”
“Sort of. A data analyst. I can prove to you that the curse isn’t real, even though in science you never really prove anythingisn’treal, because the onus is on the person making the claim to provide evidence.”
“So,” I clarify, “you want to help me by trying to prove that the curse isn’t real?”
She nods. “Exactly.”
I step closer, not quite believing what I’m hearing. “You’ve witnessed first-hand, not one, not two, butthreeawkward scenarios. How can you still deny it exists?”
“Everyone can be clumsy at times,” Lex states, so sure of herself.
“Oh, my sweet summer child.” I cross my arms and shake my head slowly. “What you’ve seen so far is nothing. You think you know anything about me, about what I live with, because of this curse? You’ve barely scratched the surface. I’ve been living like this for years.Years.”
Lex tucks her tongue into her cheek. “Then I guess it will be easy to prove me wrong.”
As much as I want to put all this behind me and move on with my life, I can’t deny how badly I want to show Lex just how deep this awkward rabbit hole goes. The amount of satisfaction I’d get wiping that smug look off her face would be worth all the pain both me and my potential date would go through.
“How about the next time I’m going on a date, you secretly watch from the sidelines so you can see the whole thing go down and I’ll prove once and for all it’s not a fluke.”
The corner of Lex’s mouth twitches up. “Fine.”
I reach my hand out to shake hers and make it official. Lex eyes my hand for a moment before taking it. Her hand is smaller than mine, with long fingers like a pianist’s, and her nails are trimmed short and very clean. Her wrists are dainty, but the forearms they lead to boast the kind of strength one would only earn at a gym. The way she shakes my hand is very much like what I’d gathered of her personality: strong but not like she’s trying to prove it by squeezing too hard, with an underlying sense of calm that permeates her entire being. I have the innate sense that if I gave her a task of any kind she’d be the type to get it done. Which is probably why she’s a scientist, or data analyst, or whatever. I release her hand, watching as Lex’s fingers flex closed before she tucks them into her pocket.
“Guess I’ll need your number, then,” Lex says.
“Sure. Give me your phone and I’ll add it.”
