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I don’t know why, but I don’t feel like having the cancer conversation with Aubrey.
“Thank you,” Bea says, taking the hint.
She briefly squeezes Aubrey’s shoulder and gives her an encouraging look before hurrying back toward her shop.
When Bea’s out of earshot, I turn back to Aubrey.
“So, should we climb on together or—”
Aubrey rolls her eyes at me and climbs onto the moped, slipping on the floral patterned helmet.
She turns the key and starts it up. Just as I’m about to give her instructions, she kicks up the kickstand and pulls the lever on the handle bar, shooting forward. She drives the moped smoothly through the parking lot, doing a few loops around the only parked car before coming to a stop in front of me again.
“Okay, maybe you don’t need lessons,” I say, chuckling.
She pulls the helmet off and shakes out her hair. A sweet floral scent wafts up to me and I lean into her inhaling.
“I went to the library early this morning and read a book about mopeds,” she says.
“You read a book? About mopeds? To teach yourself how to drive one?”
Aubrey shrugs and places the helmet to dangle off one of the handle bars. Who reads a book to learn something like this? Is she some kind of prodigy and that’s why she was homeschooled and isn’t going to college?
“Okay. Since you clearly don’t need to learn how to drive this thing, how about you let me take you to lunch?”
“No.”
“And we’re back to the one-word responses,” I say, tossing my hands in the air.
This girl keeps surprising me, even if her lack of interest in me and her one-word responses are infuriating.
“Will you please tell Bea that you saw me drive it and that I was safe,” she says, looking up at me through her lashes. Her eyes pleading.
I don’t know when I got so close to her. She’s still sitting on the moped, but I’m standing right next to the scooter, and she has to arch her neck to look up at me. I stare at the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks and notice one lonely freckle right next to her bottom lip. Now I’m staring at her lips. They’re full and pouty, puckered into a beautiful pout.
“I really need this job,” she says.
I flash my eyes up to hers, wondering if she noticed my gaze had lingered on those beautiful lips.
Her expression hasn’t changed, her eyes still look nervous and hopeful.
“Yeah. I’ll tell her,” I say, shoving my hands in the pockets of my athletic pants and taking a small step back. She swings her leg over the scooter and stands, pushing Shelby toward the bakery.
“Here, let me do that,” I say, taking the handles from her. Our fingers brush as she lets me take control of the bike.
I notice her cheeks redden and she begins twisting her fingers together in front of her as we walk, pinching at her knuckles.
“I don’t have cooties, you know.”
She looks at me, her cheeks turning even more red, but her face takes on an unmistakable look of annoyance.
“I know that,” she says.
I park the scooter on the sidewalk out in front of the shop and follow Aubrey inside.
Bea’s behind the counter counting out change into the register.
“How’d it go?” she asks.
