Where the Road Takes Me
Page 16
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Chloe
For the next two days at school, he did what he’d said he’d do. He ignored me, and I ignored him. Or, at least, we did our best to try. Stolen glances, tiny smiles—they were all in play. I even failed at hiding my giggle when he walked into the fourth-period math class we’d shared all year. His eyes nearly fell out of his head at the sight of me sitting in the corner of the room. His entire body went still, hand frozen halfway up to push the hair away from his eyes. He did that a lot. Or he’d flick his head back to try to clear it from his forehead. He recovered quickly enough and gave me nothing more than a tiny nod. I tried my best not to notice, and I tried even harder not to like it.
Shaking my head and laughing to myself, I pulled my car into the spot outside the bowling alley. Whatever happy thoughts were running through my mind fled as soon as I lifted the hand brake and it made the squealing sound it always did. I made a mental note to get it serviced before I left.
“You’re late,” Josh deadpanned as I lifted the counter door.
I spun around and checked the clock on the wall. I was six minutes early.
Then he was next to me, nudging my side. “I’m fucking with you. I just wanted to hang out for a bit before I had to take off.”
Lifting my bag strap off my shoulder and over my head, I asked, “You’re leaving?”
“I’m not going far. Don’t worry, Not Abby.” He smiled smugly and jerked his head at Blake, who was walking toward us. “For some reason—I have no idea why—he asked management to switch him from desk to food.” He raised his shoulders dramatically to drive the point home, but his smirk stayed in place.
“Fuckwad.” Blake patted Josh on the shoulder.
“Shitstain,” Josh retorted before turning to leave.
“Wait,” I rushed over and pulled on his shirt.
He turned back around. “’Sup?”
“I got you something.” Rifling through my bag, I found the toy tractor I’d brought and handed it to him. “It’s for Tommy. A get-well-soon gift.”
He cast his dark eyes downwards, looking at the toy in his hand. His gaze lifted slowly, first to me, then to Blake, and then to me again. A small smile formed on his lips. He took two steps toward me and wrapped me tightly in his arms, lifting me in the air. After spinning me twice, he placed me gently back on the floor, but he didn’t let go. “You’re good people, you know that?” he said into my ear. He pulled back slightly and searched my face. Then he licked his lips. I felt the wetness of them on my forehead but for only a second before Blake’s throat clearing made him step away. Josh winked at him over my shoulder. “Later, Fucktard.”
Then he was gone.
I turned to Blake. “You switched shifts?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t have a say. Management decides who works where.”
“Bullshit.”
He tried to hide his smile.
I walked away before he could see mine.
He followed as I made my way to the storeroom to put my bag away. “So, don’t think I’m an asshole, but I got you something,” he said.
Placing my bag in an empty locker, I turned to him. “Why would I think you’re an asshole?”
He opened his locker, two down from mine, and pulled out something green. It was the same green as our uniform. “I brought you an old shirt. Not because I don’t— It has nothing to do with what you’re currently wearing. I just thought . . . because I’ve noticed the way you dress and it just—You don’t seem comfortable . . . in something like that?” He jerked his head at my chest. “I’m an ass. Never mind.” He threw the shirt back in his locker, slammed it shut, and started to walk away.
“No. Wait!” I went after him.
He stopped but didn’t turn to me. Not until after I watched his shoulders heave a couple times. When he finally did, his jaw was clenched tight and his eyes held an emotion I couldn’t decipher. I waited for his expression to change—to switch to something that was more comforting. It didn’t. Not until I felt forced to take a step back. “I’d appreciate it if you would let me wear it.”
He blinked once, and the intensity in his eyes disappeared.
“Yeah.” He nodded slowly, and a slight smile appeared. “It’s yours.”
He took the top out of his locker but didn’t give it to me. Instead, he positioned the neck hole over my head and slowly pulled the shirt down—dressing me, like you would a kid. It should have made me angry or at least annoyed, but I simply put my arms through the sleeves. Then he took a step back, his gaze roaming up and down my body. The heat of my blush engulfed my cheeks. I ignored it. Just like I ignored the pounding of my heart and the lack of air in my lungs.
He moved forward until there was nothing between us. No more steps. No space. No air. Nothing.
And then he placed his hand on my waist.
I wanted to pull back. I wanted to tell him that it was wrong and that we couldn’t. That I couldn’t.
But I didn’t do a thing.
“I like you in my clothes, Not Abby.”
Then he turned around and walked away.
I sucked in a breath and held it. Then forcefully blew it out, along with any thoughts of what his presence, and what his words, did to me.
Blake
I knew that I was making it too obvious, but I just didn’t give a shit anymore. I wanted to say something stupid and have her laugh at it. I wanted to do something nice and have her appreciate it. Because in the past four years that we’d been in the same place almost every day, I had never noticed her. Not even a little bit. And to me—it felt like there were four years of her life I needed to know about. Four years of not paying attention to make up for. But it wasn’t just that. Deep down, I knew she was the only person in the entire world I wanted to notice me.
She leaned her forearms on the counter next to me, mirroring my position, and stared out on to the lanes. “Does Hannah ever come and visit you at work?” I looked at her. A strand of hair had come loose behind her ear. My fingers itched to touch it, but she beat me to it, turning to face me at the same time. Her eyebrows were raised, waiting. She had asked me a question. What had she said?
“So?”
“Huh?” I needed to get my shit together.
She smirked. “Hannah? Your girlfriend? Does she ever visit you at work?”
I straightened up. “Why do you keep asking about her?”
“Why do you keep forgetting about her?”
“Because she’s not important.” And as the words left my mouth, I knew I sounded like a dick. I just sighed and walked away, not wanting to get into it.
For the next two days at school, he did what he’d said he’d do. He ignored me, and I ignored him. Or, at least, we did our best to try. Stolen glances, tiny smiles—they were all in play. I even failed at hiding my giggle when he walked into the fourth-period math class we’d shared all year. His eyes nearly fell out of his head at the sight of me sitting in the corner of the room. His entire body went still, hand frozen halfway up to push the hair away from his eyes. He did that a lot. Or he’d flick his head back to try to clear it from his forehead. He recovered quickly enough and gave me nothing more than a tiny nod. I tried my best not to notice, and I tried even harder not to like it.
Shaking my head and laughing to myself, I pulled my car into the spot outside the bowling alley. Whatever happy thoughts were running through my mind fled as soon as I lifted the hand brake and it made the squealing sound it always did. I made a mental note to get it serviced before I left.
“You’re late,” Josh deadpanned as I lifted the counter door.
I spun around and checked the clock on the wall. I was six minutes early.
Then he was next to me, nudging my side. “I’m fucking with you. I just wanted to hang out for a bit before I had to take off.”
Lifting my bag strap off my shoulder and over my head, I asked, “You’re leaving?”
“I’m not going far. Don’t worry, Not Abby.” He smiled smugly and jerked his head at Blake, who was walking toward us. “For some reason—I have no idea why—he asked management to switch him from desk to food.” He raised his shoulders dramatically to drive the point home, but his smirk stayed in place.
“Fuckwad.” Blake patted Josh on the shoulder.
“Shitstain,” Josh retorted before turning to leave.
“Wait,” I rushed over and pulled on his shirt.
He turned back around. “’Sup?”
“I got you something.” Rifling through my bag, I found the toy tractor I’d brought and handed it to him. “It’s for Tommy. A get-well-soon gift.”
He cast his dark eyes downwards, looking at the toy in his hand. His gaze lifted slowly, first to me, then to Blake, and then to me again. A small smile formed on his lips. He took two steps toward me and wrapped me tightly in his arms, lifting me in the air. After spinning me twice, he placed me gently back on the floor, but he didn’t let go. “You’re good people, you know that?” he said into my ear. He pulled back slightly and searched my face. Then he licked his lips. I felt the wetness of them on my forehead but for only a second before Blake’s throat clearing made him step away. Josh winked at him over my shoulder. “Later, Fucktard.”
Then he was gone.
I turned to Blake. “You switched shifts?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t have a say. Management decides who works where.”
“Bullshit.”
He tried to hide his smile.
I walked away before he could see mine.
He followed as I made my way to the storeroom to put my bag away. “So, don’t think I’m an asshole, but I got you something,” he said.
Placing my bag in an empty locker, I turned to him. “Why would I think you’re an asshole?”
He opened his locker, two down from mine, and pulled out something green. It was the same green as our uniform. “I brought you an old shirt. Not because I don’t— It has nothing to do with what you’re currently wearing. I just thought . . . because I’ve noticed the way you dress and it just—You don’t seem comfortable . . . in something like that?” He jerked his head at my chest. “I’m an ass. Never mind.” He threw the shirt back in his locker, slammed it shut, and started to walk away.
“No. Wait!” I went after him.
He stopped but didn’t turn to me. Not until after I watched his shoulders heave a couple times. When he finally did, his jaw was clenched tight and his eyes held an emotion I couldn’t decipher. I waited for his expression to change—to switch to something that was more comforting. It didn’t. Not until I felt forced to take a step back. “I’d appreciate it if you would let me wear it.”
He blinked once, and the intensity in his eyes disappeared.
“Yeah.” He nodded slowly, and a slight smile appeared. “It’s yours.”
He took the top out of his locker but didn’t give it to me. Instead, he positioned the neck hole over my head and slowly pulled the shirt down—dressing me, like you would a kid. It should have made me angry or at least annoyed, but I simply put my arms through the sleeves. Then he took a step back, his gaze roaming up and down my body. The heat of my blush engulfed my cheeks. I ignored it. Just like I ignored the pounding of my heart and the lack of air in my lungs.
He moved forward until there was nothing between us. No more steps. No space. No air. Nothing.
And then he placed his hand on my waist.
I wanted to pull back. I wanted to tell him that it was wrong and that we couldn’t. That I couldn’t.
But I didn’t do a thing.
“I like you in my clothes, Not Abby.”
Then he turned around and walked away.
I sucked in a breath and held it. Then forcefully blew it out, along with any thoughts of what his presence, and what his words, did to me.
Blake
I knew that I was making it too obvious, but I just didn’t give a shit anymore. I wanted to say something stupid and have her laugh at it. I wanted to do something nice and have her appreciate it. Because in the past four years that we’d been in the same place almost every day, I had never noticed her. Not even a little bit. And to me—it felt like there were four years of her life I needed to know about. Four years of not paying attention to make up for. But it wasn’t just that. Deep down, I knew she was the only person in the entire world I wanted to notice me.
She leaned her forearms on the counter next to me, mirroring my position, and stared out on to the lanes. “Does Hannah ever come and visit you at work?” I looked at her. A strand of hair had come loose behind her ear. My fingers itched to touch it, but she beat me to it, turning to face me at the same time. Her eyebrows were raised, waiting. She had asked me a question. What had she said?
“So?”
“Huh?” I needed to get my shit together.
She smirked. “Hannah? Your girlfriend? Does she ever visit you at work?”
I straightened up. “Why do you keep asking about her?”
“Why do you keep forgetting about her?”
“Because she’s not important.” And as the words left my mouth, I knew I sounded like a dick. I just sighed and walked away, not wanting to get into it.
