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“You okay?” His voice pulls me from my thoughts. We’re walking through the parking lot, back to his truck.
“Yeah, just thinking about how I don’t really know you at all like I thought I did,” I admit.
“Don’t stress about that, Sophie.” His nickname still gives me butterflies all these years later. “There’s a reason you didn’t know all that. I don’t tell anyone these things, because I don’t want anyone to get too close,” he says.
I’m just about to tell him he should open up a little more, when loud laughter interrupts our conversation.
“Dude, you have to chill. You’re going to get us arrested,” a guy in the parking lot says, followed by an eruption of laughter.
“It’s the beach! You’re supposed to party,” the girl next to him exclaims, throwing her hands in the air.
I watch the red solo cup she’s holding go flying into the air, right onto Knox’s truck.
I quickly glance in his direction, wondering where this scenario is going to go next. I know Knox is fully capable of flipping out at the drop of a hat. I’ve been on the receiving end of that.
He looks surprisingly calm, which scares me even more.
“Dude! You just soaked someone's truck,” the guy next to her says, laughing.
“I didn’t soak anything. I spilled it. Stop calling me dude,” she whines.
I watch her go to grab for his drink, and the same thing happens. Another drink splashes down the side of Knox’s truck.
“Well, how do you feel about a short detour to the car wash?” he asks, not even acknowledging the couple fighting in the parking lot.
“I actually find washing cars therapeutic,” I admit.
He looks at me like I’m crazy.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, most people spend the extra and just drive through, letting the car wash do all the work. I like to actually wash the car myself. It gives me satisfaction knowing that I put in all the work.” I shrug.
We both get in the car, continuing our conversation as I pull out of the parking lot.
“All right then, it looks like you’re washing my car.” He laughs.
We drive a few miles down the road, stopping at the first one we see. It’s not uncommon to see the place packed this time of year, but surprisingly, tonight, it’s empty.
He reaches into the middle console after we pull into the stall, grabbing some cash.
“I’ll go grab some change. How much will you need?” he asks.
“If you want a good clean, you better get extra,” I tell him, and he laughs at me shaking, his head.
We both get out of the car and walk towards the back of the truck.
“We’re learning so much about each other tonight,” he says, walking backwards towards the change machine.
Knox Kingston is too good looking for his own good. He grabbed a hat from his dashboard before he got out, and it’s backwards on his head. His tattoos are peeking out from under his navy-blue T-shirt. When he smiles, he has this dimple in his left cheek that can make you go weak in the knees.
He might be no good for me, but he makes me feel good. That has to count for something, right?
“Okay, show me how you work your magic,” he says, walking back up, having no idea he was just the star of my fantasies.
“Prepare to be amazed,” I tell him.
He puts the money in while I grab the hose. I’m in the zone, spraying the truck, not missing a spot before switching to the scrub brush, washing everything all the way down to the tires.
