Chapter Twenty-Two

Anthony

She’s late.

I’m parked in the corner of the library—our spot. I’m already thinking of it like that after only four nights. Like we have a spot. There are trees back here, and at first I liked the shade, but tonight it feels like a lurking beast hanging over my car. I feel like a lurking beast. A pathetic stalker.

With sweaty palms.

Where is she?

Did she change her mind? Did her parents find out? Did she decide she wanted Grant instead? It’s only a matter of time before she gets over this attraction. I’m not sure why she hasn’t yet. Half the time I wish she would.

But the other half of the time?

This morning when I saw her with Grant, yeah, I got jealous. Like nothing I’ve felt before. I’m not like this—not about girls. I don’t get possessive because I don’t get serious. I haven’t even wanted a girlfriend since Haley. Most of my buddies on the team were the same way: Coop, Tucker, Garrett, until he fell hard for Josie. We were keeping it chill, no reason to overthink it. I liked hanging out, having a good time. I was always upfront about it with the girls, too. But always, always, I walked away when I felt the first tug of those strings.

Now I want to reach out with my own strings and tie her to me. What is wrong with me? This is a fling. Two weeks with a few rules scrawled on a piece of notebook paper. The end of something—not the beginning. I shouldn’t be sweating because the girl is late. I should be hoping she doesn’t show.

Tires rolling over asphalt sound behind me. I turn as her car pulls into the spot next to mine. My breath rushes out, and just the reaction is enough to make me want to smack something. My thick head, for one. I wipe my palms on my shorts and wait for her to open the door. A waft of warm air follows her in, along with her spicy-sweet scent.

“Sorry. Ethan called.” She smiles and straightens her bangs. They just skim the top of her eyebrows, a frame for almond eyes and a heart-shaped face. She’s a mix of places and peoples, a collage of features that the builder in me wants to take apart and put back together so I can understand why I’m so fascinated.

Maybe I do need a smack to the head. I’m losing it over this girl, and she’s not even real. She’s like the dust devil I saw kick up in the desert this morning. There for a flash—this thing you can’t take your eyes off—and then gone like it was never there at all.

I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. Tonight’s plan is a good one.

I watch her pull on her seat belt. She doesn’t belong in a beater car with stained cloth seats and a peeling dash. This is my kind of ride, not hers. If I had a girl like Mai, really had her, I’d want to give her things, do things, be things… I’d have to sign on for the future she sees. I’d have to climb on that hamster wheel and then what? She’s still leaving.

I think of Dad near the end. His jokes when I sat in the room. His quiet sobs when I sat outside. I thought I had time with him. Thought he’d be there. But people leave for all kinds of reasons. Better to be the one doing the leaving. Better not to want too much. Better to live day by day.

Mai is not a day-by-day girl. The problem is that I’m starting to wish she were. I like being with her more than I should. More than I’ve ever liked being with anyone. I told myself it was just chemistry. And yeah, I’m still having very inappropriate thoughts, but I want more than that. I want to talk to her. Laugh with her. I want her to keep taking me places I don’t want to go.

Mai is talking as she gets herself settled. I’m half listening. An apartment mix up. Furniture delivery. Ethan. Saturday.

“He’s flying home on Saturday?” I ask.

She nods. “He’s coming home for the Community Cares Fundraiser next week.”

“Fundraiser? No one mentioned that.” Not that I bothered to read all the information online. “Are we supposed to go to something?”

“Not the regular volunteers. I am because my parents are on the board. Ethan and I are trotted out every year to look perfect in our evening clothes and inspire donors to give more.”

“You have evening clothes?” I raise my eyebrows. “What happens if you wear them during the day? Clothes police come and arrest you?”

“Ha,” she says drily. “Joke if you want, but it’s not easy achieving fabulousness. That’s what I was shopping for yesterday. Shoes for my long dress. Ethan gets fitted for a tux.”

“Doesn’t make sense. Spending all that money for a charity event. Why don’t you just donate the money and call it good?”

“That’s not how it’s done.”

“That’s how it’d be done if I were in charge.”

Her eyes narrow. “If you were in charge, there wouldn’t be any event because these things have to be planned.”

“There’s that word again.”

“Speaking of plans,” she says. “We have a plan for tonight? As much as I’m sure it pains you to admit.”

She’s right—but not for the reason she thinks. When I pull out of the parking lot, my palms are sweating again. I nearly turn around twice. I’ve never brought a girl home. Never shown my workspace to anyone except Coop and Tucker. Even they were like, Dude! It’s cool, but it’s junk.

Mai’s reaction will be a thousand times worse.

But that’s the point. Let her see. Let her in, so she’ll want out.

So I’ll want out.

Now, my hands are clenching and unclenching around the wheel, and that voice inside me is saying, Don’t be an idiot. You’ve got another week with her. Enjoy it!

I turn down my street, my foot barely on the gas. I’ll drive by. Drive past. Pretend I’m detouring to confuse her. I’ll take her to the trampoline place or—

“It’s the junk house.” She’s sitting forward, smiling. Pointing to my house.

My hands clench again.

Damn.