Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
RILEY
Something about Nat feels off as we drive, but I can’t put my finger on it. He’s staring straight ahead, a serious expression on his handsome face.
I keep stealing glances at him, trying to figure out what shifted after he helped me into the car.
The tension is… unfamiliar.
I’ve known Nat as a jokester.
As the life of the party.
As the playful next-door neighbor.
Now that we’re dating, I’ve come to know Nat’s passionate kisses, his possessive touch, and the soft, ‘I’m so into you’ smile.
But I’ve never seen this pensive side of him.
Maybe I’m overthinking.
Nat is an extrovert, but even he has a limit on the amount of stimulus and excitement he can take. It’s been an extremely eventful day. I decide to leave him to his thoughts as I check my messages.
There are two notifications.
The first is a text from my brother.
Chris: Make sure you’re home by curfew.
I snort. I haven’t had a curfew since I graduated AMT school.
There’s a part of me that wants to stay up all night just to stick it to Chris, but the moment I conceive the thought, my jaw cracks in a yawn.
Nat swings around instantly. “Uh-oh. It’s not time for that yet, Riles.”
“I’m fine.” I blink rapidly as another yawn attacks me. “I just need some coffee.”
“We’ll have to keep driving before we find anywhere that’s open.”
“That’s one thing I miss about the city. There are 24-7 marts and chain restaurants open until midnight.” I wipe away the tear that formed from my excessive yawning. “It’s okay. I’ll try my best to stay awake.”
Nat punches in an address. “There’s a drive-thru about thirty minutes from here.”
“Thirty minutes?” My eyebrows climb. We’ve already been driving for a while. “Isn’t that a little far just to get late-night coffee?”
“It’s close to where we’re going anyway.”
“And where exactly is that?”
“You’ll see.” Nat winks at me and I let out a sigh of relief. Whatever put that troubled look on his face seems to have faded. He’s back to being the Nat I know and lo—like.
I was going to say ‘like’.
Feeling off-kilter, I check my phone to distract myself.
There were two notifications earlier.
I opened the one from Chris, but there’s another message from Cordelia.
She sent a group shot of us posing with a printed sign shaped like a wrench. The sign reads ‘First Name: Your, Last Name: Mechanic’.
Cordelia: These came out so great!
I send a heart emoji in response to the photo.
“Is it Chris?” Nat asks, giving me a quick look before returning his attention to the road.
“Cordelia, actually. Her mom set up an engagement photobooth in April and Chance’s honor.”
“What’s an engagement photobooth?” Nat takes my hand in his and settles it on his thigh. He’s getting bolder. Last time, he kept our joined hands on the center console.
“It’s like a regular photobooth, but there are these cute bride and groom accessories. They had wedding veils and little top hats and giant cut-out engagement rings. But there was also a sign with a phrase that April told Chance when they first met.”
I share the story April told me.
“When Chance first came to Lucky Falls, he thought his car had broken down. April showed up with her toolbox, but Chance kept hitting on her and asking for her name while waiting for ‘the mechanic’.”
Nat laughs. “Case of mistaken identity. Sounds familiar.”
“April found a creative way to inform him that she was the mechanic he was waiting for.”
Nat and I share a chuckle.
As the road unfurls before us, covered in shadows, he says, “Have I mentioned how cool I think you ladies are? I haven’t once in my life met a female mechanic. Then I come to Lucky Falls and there’s four of them.”
“I should petition to change the name of the town. Or at least change the town slogan.”
“‘Lucky Falls, home of the best female mechanics’.”
Nat grins. “It has a nice ring to it.”
“I’ll attend the next town council meeting. Now that I’m an official Lucky Falls-ian…Lucky Falls-er? Lucky Falls-osapien?”
Nat nearly splits a gut laughing.
“It’s not that funny,” I grumble.
“It actually is,” Nat says, settling down after a few more chuckles. “I love your sense of humor, Riles.”
My heart thrills at how casually he drips the ‘L-word’.
But of course, he’s just talking about my personality. Nothing serious. It would be too fast if we both dropped that word at this early stage of dating anyway.
“I’ve never met anyone I enjoy talking to as much as you. I mean that.” Nat gives my hand a squeeze. “Being with you, even if we’re not speaking, just being in the same room, it gives me so much energy. And I hope I do the same for you.”
“You do,” I whisper.
Guilt tugs on the edge of my gut. I’m, technically, lying to Nat about how early my feelings began and it’s starting to gnaw at me.
Deciding to give him a little more of the truth, I admit, “Long before we started dating, I liked being around you. Even if I couldn’t have you as a boyfriend, I would want you as a friend.”
Nat scrunches his nose. “I worked so hard to date you and you’re still trying to friend-zone me?”
Laughter pours from my lips. “No, I just mean that you make me feel comfortable. Like I can be myself around you. I don’t have to conform to being a ‘feminine woman’—whatever that is. I don’t have to keep my thoughts to myself…”
“Please don’t. Your thoughts are sexy and must be shared.”
I snort. “…you think I look good in a tank top…”
Nat groans and throws his head back. “The tank tops. The tank tops are incredibly sexy too.”
“… and you find my rambling funny—”
“It’s comedy gold. And also…”
“Sexy?” I fill in.
“Exactly.”
“Which is absolutely ridiculous. I’ve been told, on several occasions, that I am not funny and that I talk too much. But the fact that you like it proves there’s someone for everyone.”
To add an even happier layer, it just so happens that the man who ‘gets’ me is also the man I’ve been pining after for years.
Some secret dreams do come true.
“What’ll you have, Riles?” Nat asks, breaking me from my daze. We’re at the fast-food chain drive thru.
I decide to try a new flavor and, when I actually take a sip of my drink, I realize that what I ordered is disgustingly bitter.
Nat pulls the car back on the road and drives in the direction of the hills.
“What’s wrong?” he asks after seeing me grimace.
I stick out my tongue and try to air-wash the taste from it. “I don’t like my coffee.”
“You can have mine,” Nat says, offering me his cup.
I inch away from it. “Don’t you drink coffee black?”
Our mom never allowed us to drink coffee while we were kids, but Nat’s parents were more carefree and he had a coffee order from the age of sixteen.
He used to say ‘I like it black, like the puck’. And that was that.
“I do, but I saw that you had a ton of vanilla nutmeg coffee packs at home and I figured you preferred your coffee sweet, so I got a coffee you’d like. Just in case you hated your order.”
My heart turns to mush. “Thank you, Nat.”
“You’re welcome.” He grins, proud of himself. “I hope you like my next surprise too.”
The pickup jolts as it moves over rocky terrain. I look out the window and notice that we’re climbing to the precipice of a hill. From this vantage, I can see the airport.
I eagerly lower the window. Sprawled below us is a delightful maze of airplanes and the supporting machinery that contribute to a seamless flight. The lights that border the runway wink and sparkle like a beautiful, mechanical grid.
“How did you find this place?” I grip the edges of the window, denying the impulse to wiggle all the way through since Nat is still driving.
His voice is hard to hear with the wind rushing through the cab. “I stalked a few online plane-enthusiast forums. It’s all thanks to JetOnly97. He posted great directions in the comment thread.”
I let out a delighted laugh. Before Nat can fully stop the car, I’m barreling out and rushing to the edge of the cliff. From this vantage, I can hear the roar of the airplanes as they soar overhead.
Excitement buzzes under my skin. It’s been that way since the day Uncle Will walked me through a hangar filled with airplanes in various states of repair.
Incredible.
I soak in the view for a few seconds before I realize I’m alone at the edge of the hill.
I’ve abandoned Nat.
Sheepishly, I spin to locate him. He’s busy setting up something in the bed of his truck. My boots crunch loose stones as I draw nearer and witness him adding another layer of blankets to the truck bed and fluffing some pillows.
I gasp.
Nat smiles at me. “It’s nothing fancy, but welcome to a picnic under the stars. Well, I see more satellites and airplanes than stars tonight and all I have is coffee and that croissant I bought at the drive thru, but I tried my best.”
“I love it, Nat.”
He hops down and offers his hand, helping me to climb up on the bed. I can scramble on the truck myself, having crawled over large planes and turbo-engines for years. However, I allow him to help me.
Nat jumps onto the pickup bed too and the entire car rocks.
“Should I take off my socks?” I ask.
“If you want to.”
I toe my boots off and Nat accepts them and sets them to the side. Then he takes off his shoes too and sits against the back of the truck. Moonlight spills across his mischievous grin as he spreads an arm over the pillows, patting his shoulder.
I grin and settle next to him.
A plane takes off and my eyes immediately track the blinking light.
“This feels good,” Nat says, trying to cup my shoulder.
I sit up, tilting my head. “Do you hear that? I think that’s a Boeing 787, but it could also be a 777.”
“Oh,” Nat says, his eyes wide in a blank stare while his hand still remains cupped around my non-present body.
I realize he was trying to cuddle me and lean back against him. Below, the runway lights up like a meticulously organized constellation and I strain my neck to see what airplanes are flying in.
“You smell good,” Nat observes, letting his hand dance up and down over my arm.
“Mm. So do you.” I tilt my head up to him.
Nat looks down at me, his eyes traveling to my mouth.
I want to focus on him, but the airplanes are right there. My eyes dart to the activity below the hill before sliding back to him.
“Did you know that a single damaged fan blade can ground an aircraft? Even if everything with the engine checks out, it’s going to be red-tagged because imbalance is a bigger danger than power loss to an aircraft.”
“Interesting.”
“For a machine that big and dangerous-looking, planes are extremely sensitive. A tiny insect nest can cause major air speed errors.”
“Wow.”
I rise to my knees because I’m too excited to stay still. “And, this is kind of a secret, but avionics ‘resets’ are real.”
“What’s an avionics reset?” Nat asks, making the mistake of sounding genuinely interested.
I launch into a spiel about the computers in the aircraft engine, clearing codes and how that only fixes the problem temporarily.
I’m thrilled to share, but I’m also socially aware enough to pay attention to Nat just in case he starts yawning or looking around.
But he doesn’t.
He listens to everything and asks thoughtful, nuanced questions.
This is unfamiliar territory. In my experience, men outside of the AMT field do not appreciate when their date knows more about ‘manly’ subjects than they do.
And they especially do not like when a woman rants about said topic for fifteen minutes.
Nat doesn’t pout or complain about my preoccupation, but I realize that I wouldn’t like if he was rambling about a subject I cared nothing about.
“Enough about planes.” I crawl back to his side as I’d been moving around the pickup bed to express my points. “We can talk about something else.”
Nat traces my face with a soft look, and I realize that he must like me a lot if he’s giving me those heart eyes after hearing my speech about the differences in commercial airplane combustion engines.
“I do have one more question while we’re on this topic.”
“If it’s about airplanes, I have answers.”
“It’s sort of about airplanes,” Nat says, rubbing my shoulder. “It’s clear as day how much you love planes. And Chris said you were promoted at your old job.”
A rock drops straight through the center of my throat.
“What happened?” Nat asks softly. “What made you leave airplanes behind?”