Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
RILEY
The powerful sound of a well-tuned engine rumbles through the night. I honk at Cordelia as she leaves her Harley in a parking spot. Since I’m not sitting on a triple digit horsepower bike, I creep in behind her at a more pedestrian speed.
Cordelia rips her helmet off and her hair falls silkily to her shoulders.
I feel a pinch of jealousy. “How does your hair look so good in a helmet? I’m in the garage for four hours and mine goes full marshmallow. I can’t imagine what the wind would do to it.”
“You know,” she says with a laugh, “a lot of people ask me that.”
“Which means you’ve thought a lot about the answer.”
She grins and shrugs. “Genetics?”
“That’s cheating.”
“I didn’t choose to be this fabulous. It just happened.” Cordelia flings her hair and her bob sassily flings back into place.
Our laughter rings out as we take the stairs.
“Are you coming back from Renthrow’s?” I ask.
“I did. I was helping Gordie with her homework.” She nods at my dirty tank top. Although I wear a jumper over my clothes most of the time, the garage is hot and I often unzip to cool down. “Just coming back from the shop?”
“We’re working on the church van and I’m creating some new systems of operation for the mechanics.”
“Written SOPs? Sounds fun.”
I stop in the middle of the stairs. “You think that’s fun? I asked Jimmy for some feedback on one section of the draft, and he told me he’d rather lift an entire engine out of a chassis with his hands.”
“That’s hilarious.”
“Not to someone who really needs an extra set of eyes.”
“I used to work in an office so I’m not afraid of paperwork.”
“Where’d you use to work?”
“The family business,” she says after a moment of hesitation.
I bob my head. “Well, I’m not doing any more paperwork tonight. My brain is a puddle of goop. But I’d love it if you could look over the drafts when they’re finished. A second opinion would help sharpen the manuals.”
“Sounds like a plan. By the way, how’d it go?”
“With what?”
The same grin she wore at the ice cream shop crosses her face now. “You and Nathan. He looked so scared when I said I’d set you up with someone that day.”
“You did all that just to provoke him?”
“I’d call it more of a test.”
“He and I aren’t interested in each other like that.”
Or so I keep telling my delusional brain so it stops reading into every little smile or kind gesture of his.
“Are you kidding? That man couldn’t stop staring at you. It’s obvious that he likes you.”
I internally groan because I do not need Cordelia feeding into my secret fantasies. “He’s just really nice.”
Cordelia smirks. “What did Nathan say after he dragged you out of the ice cream shop?”
“He didn’t say anything.”
Her smugness fades and is replaced with genuine surprise. “Seriously?”
“Yup.”
“He hasn’t even checked if I gave you my friend’s number?”
“Nope. Because he. Is. Not. Interested.” I enunciate every word for my sake as well as hers.
“I grew up with Nat and he’s protective because he’s Chris’s best friend.
Even if he was thinking about me along those lines, he wouldn’t risk his friendship with my brother.
They live miles away, but they’re still like this.
” I twist my fingers together. “I doubt Nat would risk his bromance for a romance.”
“I don’t know. He seemed ready to risk it to me.”
“You’re wrong.” I turn to the door and my hands shake when I put my key in the lock. Stupid butterflies.
Why do I feel so elated at the thought that Cordelia thinks Nathan likes me? I need to have better control of myself or I won’t ever be able to survive as Nat’s friend.
Cordelia makes a sound of pure exasperation. “So this is why our moms started matchmaking.”
“Your moms did what?”
“Nothing.” Cordelia waves. “Fine. I heard you. You and Nathan are just good friends. Practically siblings. No feelings on either side. I completely made up the yearning I saw in his eyes and the care I saw in yours. It was a sugar high.”
“I mean…”
“Don’t worry. I’ve given up. I’m not going to meddle anymore.”
Cordelia starts walking to her apartment with both hands in the air as if I have a gun on her.
I scrunch my nose because she’s giving in too easily and something tells me that she’s not the type to let go without a fight. “Whatever you’re thinking right now… please don’t. Just don’t.”
Her keys rattle in the lock and she winks at me before diving inside and shutting the door.
Okay then.
I trod inside my apartment and resist the urge to faceplant into the couch. It’s been a long day. However, I resist the calling of the couch and dutifully shower and get ready for bed.
Minutes later, I exit the bathroom with steam rolling all around me, my wet hair in a towel and my comfortable jammies on. I pick up my phone so I can do some late-night scrolling and notice a notification at the top of my screen.
Nat: Are you still at the garage?
Riley: I got home already. I forgot to text you.
Nat: I almost drove out there with my hockey stick.
Riley: You thought I got kidnapped by hockey pucks?
Nat: You don’t know how conniving pucks can be, Riles. Someone’s gotta protect you.
Chuckling, I carry my phone to the bed and lie flat on my belly with my feet swinging.
Riley: I can take care of myself.
Nat: Just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to.
A flush starts in the center of my chest and spreads upward.
Cordelia’s words echo back to me. ‘It’s obvious that he likes you’. Is she right? Can I dare to hope that Nat isn’t just being nice to me out of familiarity and history?
Riley: I bet you say that to all the girls.
Was that too flirty? I see him typing and my breath gets trapped in my throat.
Then the bubble disappears.
He doesn’t answer for thirty full ‘Mississippi’s.
I’m about to type him and make some kind of joke to change the subject when my phone chirps.
Nat: You and ‘other girls’ are in two separate categories.
Oh my goodness.
Is that… I mean… is he saying I’m special to him?
What do I say back? Is this really happening? Am I passed out on my bed at this very moment, inventing this entire scenario, only to wake up tomorrow morning and realize I was drooling into my pillow the entire time?
Swallowing hard, I pick up my phone and think about how I should respond, but before I can, Nat texts first.
Nat: Go to sleep, shrimp.
The knot in my chest loosens. Nat gave me a perfect out and I gladly take it because whatever I was about to type next would have either revealed too much of my feelings or made things really awkward.
Riley: Sweet dreams, Nat.
I put my cellphone away, press my face into the mattress and let loose a squeal of glee so high pitched that a dog in the neighborhood starts barking its head off.
Nathan Campbell said I’m ‘not like other girls’.
That’s amazing.
I think.
Wait.
Is it?
What if he meant that I’m not like other girls because I’m like ‘family’. That would definitely put me in a separate category. An ‘I’m not attracted to you like that’ category.
I sit up in a rush, grab my phone and read through the text messages again.
How embarrassing.
Now that I’m giving it a second look, Nat never explicitly said anything to feed my delusions. And, apart from the initial meeting at the fair when he held me and asked for my name, he hasn’t done anything to hint at an attraction.
Asking me to text him when I get home is something my uncle did when I stayed at the military hanger.
And offering to buy me food is something my parents always do when they visit.
Not to mention, the way he hasn’t brought up Cordelia’s offer at all proves he’s not jealous like my neighbor assumed.
I sink into bed, flopping on my back and staring at the dingy ceiling fan. Once again, I let my imagination run like a wild horse and drag me out the gate before I have any indication that the race has started—or that I’m even in the race.
My suspicions about Nat’s lack of interest are confirmed when I head to Phil’s donuts the next morning for a sugar pick-me-up.
In a corner booth is a tall, mountain of a man with a square chin, closely-cropped hair and eyes the color of a field of emerald grass.
And across the table from him is the vile woman he promised he had no intentions of meeting.