Page 24 of Dotted Lines (Runaway 5)

“What time does Aria get off work?” he asked at the stoplight.

I glanced down the road in the direction she’d walk to her restaurant. “Five.”

“I’m done at six. Before the end of her shift, why don’t you go to the restaurant and get her? Then come back to the car wash so we can all walk home together.”

“Sure.” I glanced up at his handsome profile, hoping for a sign that his hug had been . . . more.

Karson must have felt my stare. He looked down to me and those hazel eyes held me captive. My romance novels were always describing the hero holding the heroine captive with his gaze.

Totally got that one now.

Because I was pinned to the sidewalk. The air had vanished from my lungs. I was at Karson’s mercy, waiting with every beat of my heart for his next move.

The breeze caught a lock of hair and blew it into my face.

Karson pulled it free from my cheek, tucking it behind my ear. His fingers skimmed the shell, sending a tickle over my skin. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I, um . . .”

Love you? Please, please let the rest of that sentence be that he loved me.

The beep of the crosswalk sounded beside us. Karson looked away, facing the street, and dropped his hand. Then he took a step forward and the moment was gone.

Stupid freaking crosswalk.

I kicked at an invisible clump of dirt, then trudged after him, hating every step that took us closer and closer to the car wash. When the sign came into view, I covered up a groan with a fake cough.

“Thrift store?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “I guess. There’s a dime in my pocket and I’ve got a date with Fabio.”

“Need some money for a coffee or something?”

“No, thanks.” While he’d swipe things here and there, he knew I wouldn’t steal. He’d spent too much money on me already.

Besides, on Friday afternoons, the closest café was always packed with high school girls. They’d taken over since summer break. It was impossible to sit in there and not get overwhelmed with conversations of college and cars and clothes.

I didn’t hate my life. It wasn’t ideal, but I didn’t hate our situation. Aria and I had our freedom and that was priceless. Living at the junkyard was better than where we’d been.

Still, listening to normal girls was painfully hard. Because if our parents hadn’t died, that would have been Aria and me. We would have been the girls at a coffee shop who’d never wondered where their next meal would come from. Who didn’t fear police cars that might drag them back to hell.

“I’m going to go get my new book and then find a park or something,” I told Karson.

“Stay in public where people can hear you, okay?”

“I will.” Other than the junkyard, I didn’t go to places where someone couldn’t hear me scream.

“Have fun working.”

“Oh, yeah. Washing cars is my dream,” he deadpanned.

I giggled and it made him smile.

He smiled so wide and bright, I refused to blink. I had to memorize that smile in the next forty-six days so that when we left California, I could take it with me.

Standing on the sidewalk, I waved and watched as he walked away. About ten feet away, he spun and grinned, giving me a mock salute. I laughed, watching his long strides and the way he walked with such grace.

Then he was gone and I left for the thrift store, taking my time over the ten-block route. There were no new additions to their very limited book supply, so next was an extra thirteen blocks to the closest library.

Not that I checked out books. I’d need a library card for that and requesting a fake one had seemed like an unnecessary risk. But I came to the library often, never speaking to the librarians, simply walking through the stacks.