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“You really think you’ll last that long?”
“Oh ye of little faith. And what would it matter if I was dating? I want to take you. So, will you come?”
“Sure, if I don’t have a game.”
“Shit. I forgot about that. Okay, well it’s the 23rd, so let me know.”
“I mean, I guess I could miss one game.”
I glance over to see she’s grinning at me. “You don’t have to do that, nice guy.”
“I know.”
Her smile widens.
My chest expands a little.
Fuck.
I don’t feel it from her. That’s the truth. I feel friendship, curiosity, but I’m not getting the vibes. Which may mean abandoning this friendship before it starts.
“Maybe, I’ll have to see,” I backpedal and see her frown.
“Okay, well, this is me,” she says, hitching a thumb over her shoulder as I slow to a stop.
I lean over into her seat to see the abomination she’s referring to. “What in the hell is that?”
“Mind your tongue, city boy, that there is Ole Faithful. And I swear, if you wish her any ill will, she will not start.”
I scour the old two-ton truck. The color is indistinguishable between the gaping rust spots. If I had to guess, I would say once upon a year it was red. The body style can’t be any younger than the seventies, and that’s being generous.
“Laney, that is not safe.”
“It’s as old as my mother. A classic. And it passes inspection every year.”
“Who do you have to bribe to get the sticker?”
She laughs. “Well, a family friend owns the shop.”
“I thought as much. That thing looks like the Jeepers Creepers truck. Seriously, it looks like it belongs to a serial killer.”
She presses her lips together and glances over her shoulder longingly at the truck. “It was my gran’s.”
Was. As in past tense. I’m an asshole.
“I’m an asshole. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine,” she says sheepishly. “It really is ugly as shit. I know. But I love it. It actually runs well in temps between forty and eighty degrees.”
“This is serious logic you’re using.”
She bobs her head. “Yep.”
She manages to find her keys in her purse in record speed and leans over and presses a chaste kiss to my cheek. I ignore the thud in my chest. “See you, Theo. Thanks for today.”
“See you, Laney.”
I wait until Ole Faithful starts on the third try and watch her drive away.
