Page 25 of Dotted Lines (Runaway 5)

There was adventure here. There was hope. There were imaginary worlds behind each dust jacket and hard spine, ready to swallow the reader whole. The smell of paper and books infused the air. The quiet whispers of patrons reminded me of fall leaves rustling on the grass.

Finally, after I’d killed another hour, I began the slow journey to Aria’s restaurant. She wouldn’t be ready to leave yet, but I didn’t want to risk not catching her. And I hoped I could beg a lemonade with extra ice from the waitress.

She gave me two while I waited for my sister.

Aria laughed after I explained to her what was happening. “Don’t you think Karson’s gotten more protective lately? Do you think all big brothers are like that?”

Eww. Karson was not my big brother. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Overprotective or not, I liked that Karson cared about our well-being. It was the one gesture that set him apart from most of the people in our lives.

“We still have an hour before he’s ready,” Aria said, checking the clock in the restaurant as she slung her backpack on. “Want to go somewhere?”

“Not really. I’ve been walking all afternoon. What if we just went and hung out at the car wash?”

“Fine by me.” She said her goodbyes to her coworkers, then we made the trek to Karson’s work.

There was a concrete ledge behind the row of vacuums, and Aria and I made ourselves comfortable under the shade of a tree.

I had the perfect view of Karson standing inside the metal shed with a pressure spray wand in his grip. Some days, he washed the cars. Others, he was outside, polishing the wax or running a vacuum.

It was difficult to stop myself from staring. His jeans were wet, like usual. So was his gray T-shirt. It stuck to his flat stomach. Every time he moved, the fabric seemed to stretch tighter over his shoulders and arms.

Stop staring. I had to force my eyes away, locking them on Aria, even though in my head all I could picture was Karson shirtless, wearing that towel.

Aria was telling me about her day while I fantasized about Karson. I hadn’t heard a word she’d said because I was an awful sister. But then a familiar voice barked and jerked me out of my stupor.

“Stay away from me.” Karson’s voice filled the air.

“What the hell?” Aria muttered, twisting. Then we were both on our feet.

“That’s her.” I reached for my sister’s arm. “Aria, that’s her, isn’t it?”

She took my hand, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t know. Is it?”

“Yes.” It was her.

The jogger from yesterday was inside the car wash, clearly ignoring the Employees Only sign. She was talking to Karson, waving her hands wildly as he lifted an arm and pointed toward the exit.

“Go. Away.” Another shout that carried our way.

The woman didn’t budge. She crossed her arms over her chest, planting her legs wide.

Karson clenched his jaw, then stormed into the office and slammed the door behind him.

The woman didn’t notice us watching. She scowled and marched to her car. With a snap of her fingers, she ordered away the guy drying it with a towel. Then she was behind the wheel and on the road, her tires squealing as she raced onto the street.

I didn’t wait for my sister as I rushed to the office, almost at the door when it flew open and Karson stalked outside.

He spotted me and changed direction. “Hey.”

“Karson, that was her. The jogger.”

“What?”

“Yes, that was her. I’m sure.”

“Fuck.”