“She’s going to end up in the hospital. Or dead.”
“Ah, here we go. High school all over again.” Nick rolls his eyes. “I’m not getting into this with you, okay? Take it up with Jordan. Just do me a favor and argue about it when I’m not around.”
I tilt my head back against the leather headrest and close my eyes, relishing the sensation of warm wind pouring over my face. The sun filters through the leafy trees skimming past overhead, and its dappled light plays across my eyelids. This is bliss—a summer glow on my face, a breeze across my skin, and music singing through me, its intimate beat soothing me right down to my very soul.
A long-forgotten memory sifts into my mind—my blond hair brushing my bare shoulders, someone’s fingertips trailing over my sun-warm skin, slow and wondering. A boy’s touch, tentative, unsure. Wide brown eyes searching mine, reflecting the same startled amazement that I felt in that long-ago moment. The sensation of awakening to something universal and frightening and thrilling.
My eyes pop open. I haven’t thought about that boy in ages, not since I left him behind with the Walmart flip-flops and the thrifted clothes. I couldn’t fold him into a moving box and bring him with me into my new life. He was like a new friend at the playground—one you vibe with intensely and then never see again.
Except that boy and I weren’t just friends for an afternoon. Our lives intersected for years. And when I had to leave, he let me go. Didn’t even try to stay in touch.
Nick nudges me with his elbow. “You’re not yourself today, precious. What’s up?”
“I’m… It’s nothing, I’m fine.”
“Thinking about the cheating bastard?”
Tom. “Actually I wasn’t, but I am now. Thanks for that.”
We roar into the gas station parking lot, skew into a spot in front of the pumps, and slam to a stop so hard my whole body jerks.
“Thanks for the whiplash, too.” I slam the car door with extra force, and Nick winces.
“Careful with my baby!”
“You should take better care of your baby, and your passengers.” I stalk across the parking lot and swing into the gas station. I shouldn’t fuss at Nick. He’s not the one I’m mad at. I’m pissed at men in general: the ones who screw you over, and the ones who let themselves fade out of your life—
I grab a pair of cold coffees from the fridge and turn toward the checkout counter.
But the sight in front of me stops me cold, a fist to my gut, and I suck in a pained breath.
Crimped blond curls, big blue eyes. Lips like bubble gum, and a chest that strains against her crisp uniform.
Myrtle.
How is she working here? She and Tom are supposed to be three-and-a-half hours away in Durham.
Unless…unless their plans changed, and they decided to move here after graduation—oh fuck no.
My brain devolves into a string of curses, punctuated by flashes of bare limbs and huffing breaths. Why am I picturing her tangled up with Tom? It’s not like I actually caught them in the act. I was spared at least that much.
Acidic fury spurts in my chest at the thought, drowning out the flash of panic, but I suck in a breath to quell it. I’m not that girl. I don’t smash headlights with a crowbar or drag my keys along car doors. I don’t bad-mouth people on social media.
I just burn and burn inside, while I smile sweetly because I’m freaking Daisy Finnegan—the nice girl, the fun girl, the one you want at all your parties, whether I want to be there or not.
More calmly than I feel, I set down the coffees on a random shelf and walk straight out the side door. It’s a big place, so it’s possible Myrtle didn’t see me. God, I hope she didn’t see me.
My skin is a frozen shell over the molten core of my soul. I slide into Nick’s car and stare ahead, unseeing.
“Where’s the coffee?” he asks.
“Myrtle works here.”
“What?”
“Myrtle. Works. Here.”
“The hell?” Nick gasps.
“She and Tom must have come back here, instead of staying in Durham.” I press my shaking fingers to my temples. “Nick, I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Not in the Fiat, please god,” he says quickly. “I’m so sorry, Daisy. Look, I’ll go in and get the drinks, okay? You still want coffee? Or maybe a ginger ale? Some vodka?”
I splutter a laugh. “Coffee’s fine. Thanks, Nicky.”
While he’s inside, I hunch down in the Fiat, terrified that Tom is going to pop out of the pavement. My heart pounds, and I have to think carefully to regulate my breathing. I close my eyes for a few seconds, grounding myself with the feel of the leather seat under my palm, with the soft caress of the summer breeze off the mountain. I’m okay.
I’m going to be okay.
Within minutes, Nick returns, and we’re off again. The cool, sweet slide of the iced mocha down my throat calms my stomach and quenches my internal inferno.
“She’s so skanky.” Nick shakes his head. “No idea what Tom sees in her. She doesn’t do a thing for me.”
I slant my gaze toward him. “That’s because you’re gay, babe.”
“Oh. Right.” He smirks at me, and I smile in spite of myself.
“You’re the best, Nicky.” I rub my fingertips along his shoulder. My voice sinks lower, quieter, deep enough in my throat that I feel it in my chest. It’s the cadence I find myself using when I want to be sure I’m understood. “I didn’t want to believe I needed an intervention, but—maybe I do. Just a little bit. Maybe I need someone to help look after me this summer.” I clear my throat, shifting back to my usual tone. “Anyway, I appreciate what you and Jordan are trying to do.”
