CHAPTER SEVEN
Nova
I lay in the middle of our family room, limbs flailed out like a sea star.
Two tower fans blasted much-needed air. If anything, sweating kept my mind off my ribs.
The stabbing in my lungs had dulled to a twinge.
My phone lit up, an open letter from Bay General beneath it.
The mail had arrived a few minutes ago, and I might’ve committed a felony by opening Leo’s lab results.
I didn’t know he’d applied. But the outcome wasn’t a surprise.
Leonard Emmanuel Williams has been rejected as a Pain Carrier by Dominion Pharmaceuticals’ Freedom System. The following pre-existing condition has disqualified Mr Williams from consideration: sickle cell anemia trait.
My energy drained as I read each word. We were running out of options.
A knock at the door drew my attention. No one ever knocked.
Daddy was over at Charlie and his husband Rox’s shop playing dominos with friends.
Leo was looking for work after being turned away at his job site.
Skye was in school – and they all had keys.
I scooted out of view, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t look through the window. My phone buzzed again.
Castor Cas
I didn’t think to call first. Hopefully you’re home.
Castor Cas
That’s me knocking. I don’t see your solisRing.
No one in my neighborhood had money for a solisRing security system, but I didn’t expect Cas to know that. He’s here? I pulled back a corner of the blinds. An SLX was parked across the street, and at my front door – a flash of hot pink.
Well, look at that. Prince Charming kept his promise.
I smiled until I remembered I was in my oversized sleep shirt. ‘I’ll be right there!’
I ran to my room and plundered the pile of clean clothes still waiting to be folded. I settled on a cropped tee and denim-short overalls. I lotioned my knees and elbows, then applied a coat of my favorite brown-sugar lip gloss before hurrying back.
With a deep breath, I opened the door. ‘Hey.’
Cas was grinning from ear to ear, like the adorable surfer boy he was. ‘Rush delivery for one hot-pink seven-speed bike for a Ms Nova Williams.’
He remembered my name. ‘You actually did it.’
His eyes sparked. There was a bashfulness as he tugged his cap. ‘Did you doubt me?’
I took the bike from him, our hands brushing.
He felt so warm. ‘Well, now I can’t sue.
I’ve accepted a gift.’ I wheeled it inside.
Daddy would probably yell at me later to park it under the carport, but it looked a little too fancy to leave outside.
And maybe I was already a little attached to it.
I’d joked about an electric bike, and Cas had taken it a step further.
This was a solar ride – solar-powered with a lifetime warranty.
Castor Cas made it hard not to be impressed.
I tried to keep my cool. The sun painted him in warm tones – golds and rich browns – and what looked like the slightest flash of blue at his chin, a reflection from the metallic beading at the shoulder of his shirt. He rubbed his jaw as he caught me staring.
Heat flushed my cheeks. ‘Sorry.’
‘No need to apologize. You caught me doing the same multiple times yesterday. Now you’ve given me the courage to ask you something that’s been on my mind.’
‘I’ve been on your mind?’ I teased. It felt natural to, like we hadn’t just met yesterday.
‘Does that surprise you?’ He leaned against the doorframe, sliding one hand into his pocket. ‘How are you feeling?’
I fanned myself a little because it was hot outside – not because I was trying not to swoon.
He had to be hot too. It was in the mid-eighties, and he was in a dark long-sleeve shirt with graphic, stylized waves on the front.
‘I’m feeling … good.’ The words felt strange, but as I spoke, the ache in my ribs was feather-light.
His presence pushed Leo’s rejection letter and everything else that was going wrong to the back of my mind.
I wanted to enjoy whatever this moment was, right here.
‘Good, because I want to do one more thing to apologize. Dinner.’
I stopped fanning myself. ‘Dinner?’
‘Well, it’s noon, so lunch. An apology meal, nothing else. You talked about your responsibilities yesterday, and I thought an hour away might give you a breath of fresh air. Not too big a breath, though. Your ribs need to heal.’
I bit my lip, trying to hide my interest. He’d remembered my name, everything I’d said, and kept his promise. That smile and those eyes didn’t hurt. ‘That sounds like a date.’
‘Not a date.’ He held up his hands.
Cas had the worst poker face. Lunch was fine, and if we became friends from this, cool. A date was unrealistic. Besides our obvious physical attraction, I couldn’t imagine us having much in common. I checked my solisWatch, knowing I had nowhere else to be.
Not a date, Cas had said. Just lunch. Somewhere with garlic fries and tzatziki sounded good. I could only hope. Garlic would solidify this wasn’t a date. I didn’t have time for dating.
‘Now?’
He motioned toward his SLX across the street. ‘One hour of no responsibilities.’
I imagined the car’s cooling seats – a nice change from sweating on the family-room floor.
An hour without stressing over how to come up with bill money.
A meal was just a meal. Then I remembered how he’d taken me in with one slow look after I opened the door – apparently, he found denim overalls hot. I went back to fanning myself.
‘Just lunch, nothing else. Pinky swear.’ He wrapped his little finger around mine. Maybe unnecessary touching wasn’t the best way to confirm this arrangement. There was a smugness in his smile, as though he could read my thoughts. ‘After you,’ he said.
I slid on my shoes, refreshed my contacts and SPF, and let him lead me to his car, quietly praying Ms Johnston wasn’t at her window performing her self-appointed neighborhood watch duties.
The last thing I needed was the aunties and old heads running to Daddy about this.
I settled into the passenger side as Cas hopped into the driver’s seat, and balled my fists in my lap.
‘You nervous?’ he asked, starting the car via biosig.
‘Well, the last time I saw you drive, you crashed into a guardrail,’ I pointed out.
‘Ouch. I guess I need to make a better impression this time around.’ He pulled off slowly, making a show of being extra cautious.
‘I want to take you somewhere nice but laidback. There’s this new gastro pub not quite in Crestview, but in the Westlake neighborhood uptown. The owner’s a family friend.’
The mention of a new pub scratched at a memory.
At Caféology, Stephen liked to keep an eye on other restaurants popping up – anything that might compete with his menu.
He’d dual-majored in chemistry and culinary arts, then taken out a loan for his restaurant, staffing it mostly with chem majors like me willing to work minimum – and I meant minimum – wage.
‘You don’t mean N-A-C-L by Bri Michaels, do you?
Diamond award-winning Bri Michaels? Youngest chef to receive two gem ratings?
’ I looked down at my outfit, if only to keep my jaw closed.
Stephen had spent last week complaining about NaCl.
It was hard to compete with Bri’s reputation, let alone her ability to charge one hundred dollars for three bites of food.
‘Don’t worry about what you’re wearing. She keeps a chef’s table in the kitchen for friends and family. Super casual.’
I stiffened. I hadn’t realized how different the definition of ‘laidback’ could be for people. This wasn’t a casual lunch. This was save-up-two-paychecks-and-propose-over-tapas type of casual. ‘Maybe we can go somewhere without a high three-figure tasting menu?’
‘Oh, I would pay –’ He stopped short, catching the panic I hadn’t cleared off my face. He pulled over, deep in thought. It would’ve been cute if he wasn’t so oblivious.
I contemplated asking him to turn around.
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly unsure of the next move.
This had been a mistake. You could cut the awkward energy pulsing between us with a knife.
I’d gotten into the car with a stranger.
This might’ve been a fancy SLX, but I’d met him while he was driving an old campervan down an abandoned road.
There were horror flicks about this. ‘Maybe we should –’
‘Let you choose a less pretentious place? Excellent idea.’ He held my gaze for a brief moment, and I was mad that one second was enough to relax me.
Outside, the smell of the ocean wove with the chargrilled scent of hot dogs coming from the corner stand across the street.
‘How about the boardwalk? They have the best half-smokes in Alta Bay.’
‘To the boardwalk.’ He started toward the glassways leading to Northend Shores.
‘The South Beach boardwalk.’
He nodded, quickly pulling a U-turn and merging on to the RRH. ‘Lead the way.’
I grinned. This had the potential to be a fun afternoon or go horribly wrong. I imagined outside of his occasional highway shortcuts, this might be Castor Cas’s first actual outing away from the glassways. Either way, I was locked in.
Fifteen minutes later, we were walking side by side past colorful shacks and vendor stalls, with half-smokes drowning in grilled jalapenos and brown mustard.
Free-floating solar farms were dots on the hazy horizon.
Music pumped through the air, drowning out the sound of the waves.
It wasn’t loud enough to hide the moan that escaped Cas as his eyes fluttered with the first bite, though. I had him.
‘I’m guessing they don’t have these in Northend?’
‘Hell no,’ he said, mouth full.
I smirked. ‘The owner’s a family friend. She used to be our neighbor, but after her husband became a Pain Carrier, they moved closer to the coast and used some of his stipend to open the Doghouse.’