Chapter 3
SWERVING RIGHT INTO THE TWILIGHT ZONE
“And then he called me Rachel,” I mumbled into the phone wedged between my shoulder and ear. As I walked, I wrestled with the knot in my apron. That sucker was tied tight. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t correct him. I was too busy trying to get the hell out of there.”
On the other end, Amelia made a sympathetic hmm noise. “At least he remembered it started with an R?”
I’d thought the same thing earlier. It sounded even more pathetic out loud.
Still, I conceded, “I guess there’s that.”
I puffed my cheeks in an exaggerated sigh, the sound lost in the rush of green-lit traffic turning off Main onto Broadway. Despite the hour, a steady stream of headlights flowed past Oasis. The bar and grill sat on the corner between a car lot and the water treatment plant.
The temperature had dipped with the sunset, and late-fall air nipped at my arms and lifted goosebumps. I quickened my pace, canvas shoes crunching across the chip ‘n’ seal parking lot.
The far streetlamp cast a yellow halo over my beat-up blue four-door, spotlighting the rust around the rear wheel well and the fresh bird poop decorating the back window.
Just one more reason I couldn’t afford to miss these shifts. Faith, short for Old Faithful, was showing her age. As much as I hated it, I needed to start thinking about a new vehicle.
“Well, don’t sound so depressed, Rae,” Amelia said, her voice crackling through her car speakers. She was finally on her way home from visiting her dad at one of his fancy vacation homes. “Sky talked to you. That’s something, right?”
“Yeah, about a ridiculous alien invasion theory spawned in the darkest pits of the internet.” I wheezed a humorless laugh as I conquered the apron string’s knot and yanked the whole thing off. “And I entertained it. How hard up does that make me for a guy’s attention?”
We both knew the answer to that. I hadn’t had a date in over two months, and it’d been even longer since I’d had a good one.
I’d given up on the Matcher app everyone else swore by.
The few matches who didn’t bolt after our first chat had either been way too much too fast, or they’d just wanted to get into my pants.
Which was fine and all. Just not what I was looking for.
Maybe I was destined to be single. Maybe if I could just accept that, I could stop turning into a Neanderthal every time Sky got within ten feet of me. No—worse. At least Neanderthals could communicate. I could only gape like a dying fish.
A desperate, dying fish.
I didn’t realize I’d said any of it out loud until Amelia let out a groan.
“You’re not desperate, and you’re not destined to be single.
Stop it right now. You’re just picky. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
You’ve got way more important things to focus on than boys, anyway. Like a real academic career.”
Easy for you to say, I thought, but I swallowed the pettiness before it reached my tongue. I felt guilty anyway.
Amelia had no issues in the dating department. She was the full package. Fun, smart, funny, and effortlessly stunning. Long, shining black hair, mile-high legs, olive skin with a megawatt smile and a sassy attitude to match.
I, on the other hand, was average height, average build, with below-average curves.
My hair was that not-quite-blond, not-quite-brown color that always looked better on Pinterest than in real life, and my eyes were the exact shade of mud.
While Amelia was full of confidence, I was…
not timid, exactly. I knew my mind. But I was quiet.
Reserved. Maybe a little too sarcastic for my own good sometimes.
Amelia had always made me feel like I was enough, though. She had that aura, the kind that drew people to her and made them feel…wanted. Interesting.
We’d hit it off back in sophomore chemistry at the private school I’d gotten a scholarship to, and in the seven years since, she’d become the sister I never had.
Despite the fact she owned designer clothing and I shopped secondhand, she’d always picked me first. She may have grown up well off, but that kind of thing didn’t matter to Amelia. Quite the opposite, in fact.
She was my sister in all the ways but blood. I couldn’t imagine my life without her.
“So how close are you to home?” I asked, changing the subject as I slung the apron over my arm and dug into my purse. My keys had buried themselves somewhere deep. “How are Vorn and Estelle?”
Amelia sighed, long and gusty, full of annoyance.
“Oh, you know. Living the aristocrat’s dream.
Estelle’s disappointed I changed majors.
She was really banking on me becoming some sort of breakout fashion star.
” She snorted. “At least my father seems blasé about media communications. Which, you know, is a glowing review from him. I’m sure he’s already calculating how he can absorb me into his PR branch.
I’m just waiting for him to give the ultimatum. ”
Amelia’s forever struggle with her dad’s expectations was only getting worse the longer she resisted his wishes. Vorn Delarosa wasn’t used to not getting his way. It’s how he’d ended up on Forbes lists, after all. He expected the same of his only offspring, too. Even if Amelia didn’t want it.
I thought of my own mom, who’d never batted an eye at my dream of becoming an archaeologist, even knowing how underpaid, underfunded, and overworked I’d probably be. I was lucky. I knew it.
I tightened my grip on the phone. “It’s your career, not hers, A.”
“Her career consists of sitting poolside and spending Dad’s money,” Amelia said with a trace of venom.
I bit my lip. Estelle was her dad’s fourth wife, barely older than Amelia herself, and had a holier-than-thou streak that made her even harder to like. Amelia had tried. If she couldn’t find it in her to pretend, it was safe to say it was pretty hopeless.
“You think you’ll make it to class tomorrow?” I asked, reaching Faith and fumbling with the key. The automatic locks were out again; my mechanic brother said something about a relay. I didn’t know what that meant, but I heard dollar signs and mentally sobbed.
“Yeah, I’ll be there. We still meeting for coffee after your comp class?”
“Yep.” I finally got the door open, the hinges shrieking in protest. “Sounds good. Gotta run to the bank and dump this cash. I’ll catch you tomorrow. Drive safe.”
“You, too. And hey—don’t get abducted by any aliens on your way home.”
She laughed at my disgusted growl and hung up.
Shaking my head, I tossed my apron and purse into the passenger seat before sliding behind the wheel. And, because I was weak and apparently a glutton for punishment, I paused with the door open and glanced back toward Oasis.
No lights glowed in the second-story windows on the left side where Sky’s apartment was located. I didn’t think he was home. He’d vanished after the dinner rush and left the other bartender, Derek, to close. Not that I’d been watching.
Who was I kidding? Of course I had. I hadn’t stopped watching him.
Ever since the incident in the prep room, I’d been painfully aware of his presence across the restaurant.
More so than normal. Not even the steady crush of customers had dulled the lingering embarrassment still simmering under my skin.
Or the faint twinge of relief that’d followed when he’d left for the night, off to do whatever it was criminally attractive, alien-obsessed bartenders did after work.
“Well, it’s over now,” I whispered to myself as I started the car. Faith coughed in protest before the engine caught and rumbled to life.
Best to put the whole night behind me. Including the world’s weirdest backroom chat with the guy I’d spent months fantasizing about. I was sure he’d already forgotten the girl whose name he couldn’t remember, anyway.
I adjusted the crooked rearview mirror and backed out of the space.
The trip to the bank took no time. But as I rounded the stretch leading to Cherry Street and the small apartment I rented above Bob’s garage, I groaned.
Of course there would be a train tonight.
And a parked one, no less. I knew from experience it could sit there for close to an hour before creeping forward.
The cross-guard lights blinked like taunting little eyes in red and yellow.
“Screw this.”
I glanced behind me—no cars—and threw Faith into reverse, executing a clunky three-point turn.
Even the long way home through the back roads would be faster than waiting forever for the freight train.
It wasn’t even eleven, but after tonight, I felt like I’d been awake for three days. I was ready for my bed and oblivion.
Houses gave way to open land while the radio played a throwback hit from last summer.
I hummed along, tapping my fingers on the wheel.
The familiar tune chipped away at my scowl.
With the city lights fading behind me and the stars brightening overhead, I spotted the boxy shape of the Big Dipper easily.
It hovered just above the tree line. I couldn’t help but smile.
My dad had always pointed out that constellation when I was little. It reminded me of him every single time I noticed it up there.
I’d grown up thirty minutes away in Maryville, a two-stoplight town whose biggest claim to fame was its grain mill. One Willow, with its mall, medical centers, and not one but two Walmarts, had been the nearest thing to civilization. My dad had worked on the military base there for years.
A large part of my childhood had been spent making the drive into One Willow, first for my fancy school, then my dad’s appointments…and after that, for his longer treatments.
Eventually, for the weeks he never came home.
After all this time, the ache that lived in my chest had softened into something gentler. Familiar. I adjusted my grip on the wheel, keeping one eye on the Big Dipper like I had as a kid riding shotgun.