Chapter 4
Astrid
My self-respect shrank to the size of a grape. Sure, he'd heard my insults, but did he really have to rub salt in the wound?
“We’ve been stuck here for a while.” Kelly stepped in, sensing I desperately needed a lifeline. “You’re the first person who’s actually stopped. Our car isn’t moving anytime soon. Could you please give us a ride to Orange Falls? It’s just half an hour away.”
“Didn’t seem like she wanted a ride when she was hurling insults my way.”
Yes, moron, obviously I hadn’t thought it through, because normal people don’t usually slam on the brakes after being called an asshole.
“Sorry about that,” Kelly said apologetically. “My friend’s got some anger issues. Totally working on it with a therapist, though. She’s like, ninety percent harmless now.”
My mouth dropped open. Excuse me? I was fully prepared to protest this outrageous character assassination, but Kelly’s elbow jabbed into my side, shutting me up.
“Can we get our things now?” she asked, flashing him her most hopeful smile.
The least he could do was say yes after my best friend dragged my name through the dirt, but instead he tilted his head, gaze sliding back to me. “Your friend doesn’t have a mouth?”
Of course I have a mouth, jerk. It just stopped working the second yours opened.
Even with my blurry vision, I could feel his gaze pinning me in place like I was a bullseye on the dartboard.
Kelly squeezed my wrist—a wordless warning: Mess this up, and you're walking home.
I swallowed what was left of my pride, cleared my throat, and said, “Could you, could you give us a lift?”
“Get in.”
“Thank you!” Kelly’s eyes brightened as she flashed him a smile worthy of a toothpaste ad. “Just give us a sec to grab our stuff.” She grabbed my arm, dragging me toward our car.
“Thank God we found a ride,” she whispered. “Credits to you, your insults worked wonders. Who knew yelling at someone would actually make them stop?”
“And he returned the favor,” I muttered, irritably scuffing my shoe through the dirt.
“Can you blame him?” she mumbled. “Your insults were pretty colorful.”
“Fantastic. First, you praise me, and now you’re defending his honor? Pick a side.”
“Yours, obviously.” She looped her arm through mine, grinning. “Just survive him for half an hour, until we get to Orange Falls.”
“After that, can I kick him?”
A prickling sensation crept up my spine, like someone dragging an ice cube along my back.
Did he hear me?
The urge to glance over my shoulder burned fiercely, but I forced myself to stay painfully still.
“I’ll even lend you my shoe,” Kelly offered generously.
“Right or left?” I deadpanned.
Kelly laughed.
As I reached for the trunk, she quickly grabbed my arm. “Forget it. Just grab your bag and let’s go. We’ve got way too much stuff here. We’ll deal with the rest later.”
I knew it was a hassle, and he didn’t exactly seem like the type to welcome extra luggage, but I needed my essentials, at the very least. “How exactly am I supposed to make it through the night—”
“I’ll call Mom as soon as we have a signal. Your belongings will be at your house by tonight.”
“Fine.” I sighed, giving in. “But I need to find my glasses. Unless you’re volunteering to guide me around like a blind bat, don’t even think about saying no.”
A sharp honk pierced the air, interrupting our conversation.
I took a deep breath, biting back the urge to shout, Calm down, we’ve been here a whole sixty seconds!
Impatience at its peak.
“Hurry up, or he’s going to ditch us. He’s our only chance of survival,” Kelly urged.
She scrambled through the backseat while I rummaged around the front. I flicked on my phone’s flashlight, quickly sweeping it across the floorboard.
I didn’t find them.
Where the hell had I thrown them?
“Kel, any luck?”
“No,” came her muffled voice.
“Are we leaving today or camping overnight?” His velvet-smoke voice curled around me—smooth and lazy, somehow managing to sound both bored and impatient all at once.
I straightened abruptly, intensely aware of how close he was—tall and broad-shouldered, quietly drawing attention without even trying.
Was it just me, or had the road shrunk two sizes trying to make room for him?
“Sorry, just another minute, please.” Kelly jumped in, saving me from my awkward silence again. “My friend dropped her glasses somewhere in the car when we hit the tree. She can’t see a thing without them.”
My hand itched to smack Kelly. Can’t see a thing? My vision’s blurry. I wasn’t helpless. Now, thanks to her, he’d probably imagined me stumbling around town crashing into poles and waving at streetlamps.
“You two are going to take forever at this rate. Move aside.” He leaned into the car, sliding into the seat I'd occupied moments ago.
When he reached into his pocket, probably grabbing his phone, I instinctively aimed my flashlight at him.
The beam caught him squarely in the face, illuminating his eyes, warm, impossibly brown, as they locked onto mine.
My breath caught. I quickly turned away, staring a bit too intently into the darkness.
His hands slid beneath the seat, while I awkwardly tried to follow his movements with my flashlight like a rookie spotlight operator.
Kelly sidled up beside me, tugging impatiently at my sleeve.
“What?” I hissed, distracted as the soft glint of his watch drew my gaze, highlighting the sure way his fingers flexed.
“I need to tell you something,” she whispered urgently.
“Later,” I muttered back.
“But I have to—” She snapped her mouth shut as he straightened up, thankfully holding my glasses.
He handed them to me, his fingers brushing mine just enough to send a jolt through my skin. Before I could whisper a thank-you, he’d already turned away, his silhouette fading into the shadows. But his low voice drifted back to me, words I wasn’t sure were meant for my ears.
You seem to lose a lot more than just your glasses.
Lose more than just my glasses?
I slipped my glasses on and leaned inside the car, half-expecting to spot a bobby pin or maybe a lost hair tie. Sure enough, a crumpled chocolate wrapper stared back at me.
Did he mean this—a chocolate wrapper?
Before Kelly even had a chance to glance at the backseat, let alone reach for the door, I nudged her forward and climbed in myself. No way was I riding shotgun with that iceberg .
The car pulled onto the road, silence settling between us like an awkward plus-one no one invited. He flipped on the interior light, and instantly my eyes betrayed me, darting straight to the rearview mirror. With my glasses finally back on, I could see him clearly. Way, way too clearly.
Thick, silky hair fell across his forehead in a careless, shampoo-commercial sort of way. His beard was scruffy enough to suggest he either spent weekends hiking mountains or simply forgot razors existed.
Right on cue, my phone let out a loud ribbit-ribbit —my frog notification tone slicing through the silence, and my thoughts.
Kelly: Azzie…Azzie…Azzie…
Astrid: Yes…Yes….Yes….still alive.
Almost instantly, the bubbly pop-pop of her notification tone echoed from the front seat.
Kelly: Good that you’re alive. Officially adding “backseat betrayal” to the list of reasons to hate Astrid. Now listen, remember when I said I had something important to tell you?
Ribbit-ribbit.
Astrid: Dramatic much…Now quit stalling and tell me already.
Pop-pop.
Kelly: I have seen him somewhere.
Ribbit-ribbit.
Astrid: Where?
Pop-pop.
Kelly: I can’t place him, but I swear I’ve seen him before.
Ribbit-ribbit.
Astrid : I knew your memory’s bad, but I didn’t realize it’d gotten so bad you’d start forgetting people too.
Pop-pop.
Kelly: Hey, this isn’t about my memory. His beard and hair are covering half his face.
Ribbit-ribbit.
Astrid : Take a picture, run it through one of those beauty apps you’re obsessed with, and give him a virtual shave. Maybe it’ll jog your memory.
Pop-pop.
Kelly: I’m serious. I’d ask his name, at least, but he’s giving off major stay away from me vibes.
Ribbit-ribbit.
From the driver’s seat, a deep, irritated voice cut through our back-and-forth. “If you two are going to text sitting next to each other, at least turn off those annoying notifications.”
My eyes went wide. Kelly made a tiny, horrified noise, at least, that's what it sounded like from the backseat. I could practically see her eyeballs bulging cartoonishly onto the windshield. It hadn’t even occurred to me how painfully obvious our obnoxious message alerts were.
“We…uh…we…” Kelly started, her voice fizzling out like air from a dying balloon. She hoped I'd jump in. I didn't. Her fingers tapped impatiently against the seat, a signal I pointedly ignored. Why bother? He'd already caught us texting like teenagers passing notes in class.
Still, Kelly pressed on. “We just…we were talking about nature—”
“And that ridiculous frog-quacking sound is unbearable,” he mocked.
Irritation prickled along my skin.
Did he seriously just insult my frog tone? My adorable, precious froggy?
I glanced at the mirror, catching sight of his stupidly perfect face. My fingers twitched. I was half-tempted to grab a fistful of that shampoo-ad hair and swing a solid punch to his jaw, but I resisted. I wasn't exactly dying to be left stranded on the side of the road tonight.
“Dick,” I muttered under my breath. Apparently, my voice wasn’t nearly as quiet as I thought, because at that exact moment, his gaze snapped to mine in the mirror.
Damn it!
I tore my gaze away, heart pounding.
Please, God, just this once, let him not have noticed.
The car rolled to a stop right in front of Kelly’s house. Not randomly halfway down the road or in the middle of nowhere, but exactly at her doorstep. Maybe I was imagining things, but he'd turned onto each street before Kelly could even open her mouth to give directions.
Kelly tossed a cheerful, “Thanks! Amazing ride, really,” and hopped out.
I hesitated, fingers still glued awkwardly to the door handle.
Should I say thanks, too? Or quietly escape?
He had helped us when he could've easily left us stranded on the road. Before I lost my courage, or worse, started overthinking it again, I forced the words out. “Thank you.”
He glanced over his shoulder, a faint smirk curving his lips. “A thank-you? For a dick like me? I’m flattered.”
Oh, God. He'd heard. Of course he'd freaking heard.