Chapter 8

Closing his browser, he gathers his things and gets to his feet. "What am I going to do? Make you walk?"

"You could if you were a dick."

"Luckily, I'm not."

We head out of the library and into the afternoon sun. My phone buzzes and I think about not checking it. But it could be one of the few texts from my mom checking up to see if I'm, like, still alive. I pull out the device and stare at the screen.

Five missed texts from Savvy.

Five? Really Savvy? She knows I'm with Alex and that he's taking me home - she just wants to talk about what's happening. I think about replying, but anything I send will be answered with an immediate phone call, and I don't want to talk in front of Alex.

Slipping my phone in my pocket, I follow him up to the second level of the parking garage, spotting his black truck on the far end. I already know which way to walk when he gestures to it.

Reaching the vehicle, I climb in and toss my bag to the floor, wondering if I should just keep it on my lap. The black seats are ripped and worn, and there's paint peeling in more than one spot. I do a double take and realize the rearview mirror is missing.

"Do I ask?"

"Nope." Alex starts the engine, and we're off. The first few minutes are quiet. He doesn't need directions to the area - he lives nearby, just a few neighborhoods away. After the second sign for Twelve Oaks, I motion up ahead. "Left on White Oak."

He slows and puts on his blinker. Then turns.

I peek over.

The first thing I see is his hand. We're in a manual, so his fingers are wrapped around the stick shift, and with each sharp switch of the gears, my focus is latched more and more on the image. The response confuses me. Excites me. Then I realize it: I like watching him drive. My eyes travel from his hand up his sleeved arm to his chest and face. Part of it is hidden by his hoodie, but I'm able to see the tips of his features, focused straight ahead.

Alex shifts into another gear. "Do I turn?"

"Oh, yeah. Longleaf. It's up ahead. You want to make a right."

He makes the turn and I force myself to look out the window. I'll be going home to another empty house, and the thought has me considering a long phone date with Savvy. Maybe even asking her to spend the night. Something feels different about tonight.

"Um, your next left. I'm third down on the right. 1068."

Alex slows to a stop outside the only house I've ever lived in - a one-story ranch with a red door and an overgrown flower garden. I'm almost embarrassed to know he's seeing this, but it's really not that bad. In fact, I kind of love where I live. It looks like something children stumble upon in a fairy tale, all green and lush and probably sweet-smelling on the inside. When I first started painting, the garden was limited to the backyard, when Mom had a handle on it. Then she left and things just sort of got out of control. But I like it this way.

"Thanks for the ride." I unclick my seatbelt.

He looks past me. "That your car?"

I follow his focus. Yup. There it is, sitting in the driveway in all its terrible glory: a faded blue, 1992 Toyota Corolla. "My piece-of-shit car? Yes."

He turns off the engine.

"What're you doing?"

To my horror, Alex jumps out of the truck and heads up my driveway. Oh, this is not good. This is so not good. I sprint out after him, rushing to catch up.

"Believe me - it's a piece of shit. No need to further investigate." I match his speed, wanting to beat him to the Corolla and somehow hide it before he can get a good look. It's not that I'm embarrassed - okay, maybe I am. Just a little. Not only is it a complete eyesore, but I let it get into such bad shape that I'm afraid he's going to judge me.

Alex gives himself a tour of the vehicle, walking around the Corolla while he studies everything he's seeing. Once he gets back to where he started, I cross my arms, waiting for a diagnosis. When he has none, I get nervous.

"Well?"

"Can you pop the hood?"

Unlocking the car that I haven't driven in nearly three months, I do as requested. He disappears under the lifted metal, and when I walk back around, I see him messing with different things around the engine.

"It's not going to blow up now, is it?"

"Not as much as it was before." He throws me an accusing look. "When was the last time you got the oil changed?"

"Um..." is all I can say because, honestly, I have no idea when the last time was that I took the car to the shop. But I can't tell him that. I try thinking of an answer when he nods.

"That's important."

"I know."

"If you know," he fully stands, "then why'd you let it go so long? It's bone dry."

I scoff because I have no idea how else to respond. He's right - I shouldn't have let it get so bad, but what can I say? I'm a bad car owner. Besides, why should he school me on what I should and shouldn't do?

"This won't fly when the baby comes," he deadpans. "I need to know I can depend on you with AJ."

I'm thrown off by his joke, but I don't want to dissuade him. Playing along while winning my case is still totally achievable. "AJ will be fine. If anything, Savvy can pick us up."

"I don't know Savvy."

"And I don't know Corey, but he's watching our baby. So, AJ can ride with Savvy and me."

"Only if I'm not available." Alex brings his phone to his ear in one smooth motion. "Yeah, hey, what's up? Yup," he gives himself another tour of my car, slowing down in some areas for closer inspection, "looking at it now. I don't know..." he shrugs and then glances at me, "maybe this weekend?" He keeps walking. "Yeah, alright. I'll let you know."

Alex hangs up and drops to a crouch, looking at something near the rear passenger tire.

"Was that Corey?"

"Yup."

I cross my arms. "And? Will he judge me on the condition too?"

Alex stands. "Your tires need air. And oh yeah, you're in for a lecture."

"Why don't we skip the lecture and I'll keep riding with Savvy?"

"I told you," he pockets his phone, "this won't fly when the baby comes. I need my wife and my child protected. And," he shrugs, throwing the idea out, "if I need some late-night snacks, I need to know you'll be able to go out and get them for me."

"So, this is all about your munchies?"

"Yes. Maybe."

Alex's phone beeps and he looks down. His eyebrows pinch, bothered by something, but he wipes the expression quickly. He looks up, his focus flashing over my shoulder to the empty house. "You good?"

"Yeah."

He lingers a moment longer, rocking on the heels of his feet, looking for a reason to stay, I think. "You...doing anything with your folks tonight?"

I don't think any friend has ever asked me about my parents, and the fact that it's Alex Wolf is absolutely adorable. Unable to help myself, I smile. "There is only one folk, and she's currently on a plane somewhere. Or back from somewhere. I never know."

He doesn't get it.

"Stewardess."

"And your dad?"

I shrug. "Your guess is as good as mine."

His brows pinch, his olive eyes narrowing on my house as he puts it together. "You're alone sometimes?"

"Sometimes? Psshh - try all the time."

He makes a face.

"Hey, no parents. Every teenagers' fantasy, right?" It sounds fake and whiney, and I immediately regret saying it that way. I don't want Alex to feel sorry for me which is why I focus on his truck. "I'm fine. Go." I motion toward it. "Tell Corey what a terrible car-owner I am."

He looks at me for a moment, debating whether or not he should leave. Finally, he turns and starts walking. "Prepare yourself for the lecture."

"Prepare yourself to chauffeur me and AJ."

Alex throws me one more look and then offers a wave. I watch him get into his truck and drive down the street before I go inside.