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“Sure.” I rattle off my address.
“I’ll meet you there.” She rolls the window up.
I knock again.
She cracks it. “Yes?”
“I didn’t catch your name.”
“Oh.” She purses her lips, and for a moment I wonder if she’s going to refuse to tell me. “It’s Roxanne.”
“Okay, Roxanne. I’ll see you at my place.”
She closes the window and pulls away, almost running over my foot in her haste to get away.
I stand straight and watch her taillights. She’s already headed in the right direction toward my place, though there’s no way she could’ve recognized the address.
Lucky guess, I suppose.
In any case, at least I’ll have another chance to speak with her. Maybe I’ll get more out of her than just her first name.
7
MAGGIE
What the hell am I doing? While I have a solid grasp of technical skills, I don’t have one on human nature beyond what I’ve read and tried to mimic in my life. Not to mention that the people closest to me–I don’t think any of them would be called normal. So mimicking such behavior has never been easy. Even when I was in school, every girl around me was exceptional in something.
I don’t understand people, but they do interest me. They usually behave in predictable ways. Patterns, really. That is something I can understand. However, it’s the most interesting of people’s patterns that are the hardest to understand, but we all have them no matter how hard we try to mask them. And within that, there is always a weakness.
I know without a doubt that is the key to me finding Owen’s weakness. To figure out who he truly is. I’ll need to take my time and watch him carefully. Him inviting me back to his house couldn’t be more perfect. He’s giving me the opportunity to observe him up close in his environment without him having his guard up.
I reach over to grab my bag to search inside for my phone. I need to call Ocean and let her know what my plan is. Not that I really have one besides going to Owen’s place.
Ocean hates that I won’t get an electric car. From her standpoint, I understand, but from mine it’s never happening. You might not know it, but your car is reporting everything you do in this day and age. It might as well be a cell phone. At least it couldn’t take over your car at any moment. The same can’t be said about an electric vehicle.
“The hell is going on? I saw you and that silver fox chatting it up.”
“Silver fox, really? He has maybe three gray hairs,” I retort. Each of them makes him look sexier.
“Where are you going?”
“Tracking me?”
“Always. That’s what real friends do.”
“His place.”
“Oh, we got a new skank in town?”
“Ocean!” I hiss, my face rushing with heat.
“Not for nothing. Why are you going to his place?”
“My battery thingy wasn’t working, and he fixed it. He also said that I needed more of the blue liquid that washes my windshield.”
“Your battery wasn’t working?”
“When I tried to start it, I couldn’t get it to, like, go.”
