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I didn’t see a car outside.
Or was I too exhausted to notice?
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one with this thing stuck on your head. Which, by the way, isn’t exactly weightless.”
Is that… Winter?
“Oh, I’m sorry, princess. I shouldn’t have given you a helmet. It’s not like it can save your life or anything.”
Wait, I know that voice.
“We might have to go to the hospital. I mean, you can’t exactly keep it on your head forever, can you?”
Winter laughs. “They could make a documentary about me.”
“Helmet girl. When Winter was eighteen years old, her head got stuck in a motorcycle helmet. People were never able to get it off. She’s been living without makeup and hasn’t brushed her teeth ever since.”
My cousin’s laughter increases.
Failing to contain my curiosity, I walk over and swing the door open. What I see on the other side is… a shitshow.
No better way to put it.
My cousin, wearing a motorcycle helmet. And Haze Adams, hands dripping with soap.
“Winter?” I frown.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” she stammers.
Haze bites back his laughter. “Tell me, what exactly does this look like?”
Fuck it.
“You know what? I don’t even want to know.” I shut the door. I’ve had a long day, and I’d rather not waste the last of my brain energy on this. Hurrying to the fridge, I grab an apple. I hear them burst into laughter and can’t help listening. Thin walls, okay?
“If she tells Kendrick, I’m dead.”
“What could she possibly tell him? He had soap on his hands, and she had a helmet on her head?”
They don’t say anything for the next minute. I’m halfway up the stairs when I realize I left my bag in the kitchen.
“I hate to put an end to our second date, but I have to go.” I discern Haze’s voice as I’m passing through.
Did he just say second date?
As in they had a first date?
“I’ll see you at school?” he questions.
I don’t hear her answer, only Haze’s footsteps to the door.
“Hey, Kingston?” he says quietly.
Silence.
“Thank you for getting to know me.”
“Hey, Adams?”
