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He’s in front of me before I get my helmet on. “Kenzi…”
I meet his stare but say nothing. There’s nothing to say. We’re not friends. I’m nobody. I pull on my helmet and try to fasten the awkward chin strap. My hands are shaking. His gray gaze moves over my face, then fixes on my fingers, his mouth pulled into a flat line.
I blink. Raise my eyebrows. “What?”
The tip of his tongue touches his top lip like he’s about to say something, but he just shakes his head instead, rubbing the center of his massive chest with the palm of his hand. “I didn’t know this was yours.” He steps back and looks over the moped.
“You wouldn’t.” I finally manage to get out, still fumbling with the clasp. He’s wearing a T-shirt now. The scent of fresh laundry and sandalwood tickle my nose. It’s a good smell. It does nothing but make my eyes sting now. I’m nobody. He said it.
His big shoulders drop with a long sigh and before I can react, he’s pushed my hands away and is fastening the clasp for me. “I had no idea you even had a license.”
I jerk back from his lingering touch. “Why would you?” The corners of my lips pull down.
His do too.
He watches me silently as I climb onto the seat, turn the key, then rock forward off the stand and snap the visor into place.
I don’t look at him as I turn the key and twist the throttle. Nothing.
I twist it again.
Florence shudders, then clanks but her motor refuses to turn over.No. I twist again. She doesn’t even whine. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I mutter, turning the key once, twice, three times. Nothing “What’s wrong with you?”
I grind my teeth, pull in air through my nose and stare up at the crisscross of palm leaves above me, blinking back tears for the second time in five minutes. The universe is an asshole. I hop off and pull her back onto her stand and stomp to the front of the scooter—to where Ithinkher engine lives, refusing to acknowledge the big lump still watching me. I don’t even know how to get into the thing.
He clears his throat.
I give in and glare at him.
His eyes narrow as he approaches me like I might attack, or bite, or lose my ever-loving shit. I run my tongue over my top teeth, fold my arms and focus all of my attention on not just bursting into tears.
His head is tilted, his eyebrows pinched up in the middle when I finally force myself to meet his wary gray stare. He’s taller than me by almost a full head. For some god-awful reason it makes me want to cry even more. “She’s broken.” I flap my hand blindly in the direction of Florence.
“I see that.” He scratches the center of his chest over his white Surf Shack T-shirt and glances at the Vespa. “Want me to take a look?”
No. I don’t. Not even a little bit. He’s the last person I want to help me. He’s the last person I wantnearme.ButI’m not exactly overflowing with other offers either and I have no idea what I’m doing. And so, I nod, wrap my arms around myself and step to the side to let him past.
He walks by me, still watching me like I might throw a fit when he hunkers down in front of Florence and easily pops the front panel off the scooter.
His eyes flick to the motor, a deep crease settling between them as he tugs on wires and lifts asomething. I’ve no idea. He’s biting his top lip when he returns his gaze to mine. “I don’t have the tools to fix this, it’s your starter.”
“Great.” I impatiently yank at the clasp of my chinstrap. “I guess I’m calling a taxi then.”
“Where were you headed?” He slams the palm of his hand against the panel to click it back into place, then straightens to his full height, wiping his hands on his dark green board shorts, his solid chest bunching with the action.
My tummy folds in on itself, then flattens back out all creased out of shape. My brain does the same when he walks towards me and unfastens the chin strap without a word like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s not normal. I pull away and take my helmet off. This has bad idea written all over it. Taking help from men who think you’re nobody is almost as bad as letting them use you as a sleeping aid.
But I have no choice. None. If I want to talk to Lola today and not spend money I don’t have on cab fare, I need him. “I was heading to the art retreat over in Nala Tow
He sinks the fingers of one hand into his hairline and twists to look up the main road. “I have no idea where that is.”
The half-smile he fixes me with is almost enough to pull one from me.
I gnaw on my bottom lip until the feeling passes. “It’s just past Tenting, but not as far as Fern Bay where the farmers market is.” I brush the strands of hair pulled loose from my braid behind my ear. “I can get Rae to take me, or Laia… or Fee. You don’t have to.”
He’s already rocking Florence off her stand to roll her back into her space. “You need anything from under the seat?” He turns his head to look at me, his massive hands on the throttle, thick fingers poised on the brakes.
I stare. So does he. A silent conversation I don’t understand. All I hear isshe’s nobodyin his grumpy-ass voice on repeat.But, in the end, I nod, take the keys from the ignition and unlock the lockbox under the seat to get my folder and my purse. The universe really does have a shitty sense of humor.
