Page 13 of Blueline Baby

“I'm recovering,” I tell him. “My entire morning had a highly structured plan, and you weren’t in it.”

“I’m rarely in the plan.” He flashes that huge, devastating smile again. “People usually like me better once I am, though.”

I point to a visitor lot near the science building and he pulls in.

“Your tire’s still flat,” he says, like I might have forgotten. “You’ll need a ride home.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Or.” He pulls out his phone and holds it toward me. “You put your number in, text me when you’re done, and I come back for you. And I’ll swap your spare so it’s not sitting on a flat all day.”

It’s a highly logical plan, which is the infuriating part. It solves all of my immediate problems at once, but it also happens to get him my phone number. He knows this, holding the phone out like there was never any question about how this would go.

I take his phone, type in my number, and hand it back. “There. This is also not a date.”

“You’ll know when it’s a date.” He’s already looking at my name saved on his screen. “Go pass your test, Backcheck Girl.”

I get out before I have to say anything else, and I walk into the classroom and sit down and open the booklet, and for a solid thirty seconds I can’t produce a single fact about cellular respiration, because I’m thinking about his smile.

I have never once in my entire life blanked on a test.

I force the image out of my head and pick up my pencil. By the time I hand in the exam an hour later, I’ve almost successfully convinced myself that it was just the flat tire that rattled me.

I know it wasn’t the tire.

An hour later I push through the heavy glass doors of the building, annoyed at myself for everything that happened that morning. Now, I have to figure out how to get home. He told me to text him, which would be the smart move except I don’t exactly feel like swallowing my pride to ask him to come back to get me.

I’m still glaring at the screen when I look up and see his truck is idling directly in front of the building, parked in the fire lane. He’s got the windows rolled down and he’s watching me, which means he probably saw all the internal gymnastics I was just doing with myself.

“You're in a fire lane,” I tell him as I climb in and drop my backpack by my feet.

He puts the truck in drive the second my door shuts. “Well, I knew you wouldn't text me so I needed to be where you could see me. How was your test?”

“Fine.” I buckle my seatbelt, refusing to look at him because if I do, I'll have to acknowledge that he was completely right about the text, and that it’s incredibly nice of him to be here. “I probably passed.”

“That’s amazing!” And he sounds actually excited for me. “I called a tire shop. They’ll sell you a new spare and once we get it on your car you can drive over and then we’ll get the flat fixed too. Sound good?”

I can only stare at him. “Why would you do that for me?”

He shrugs. “You let me crash on your couch. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly, staring down at my hands.

“Don't mention it.” He flashes that devastating smile, turning his eyes back to the road. “So, ready for our mission, that’s definitely not a date?”

7

JACK

SHE’S NOT A USUAL GIRL

The door opens and it’s not her. I’m getting my hopes up for nothing.

It hasn’t been her all night. Or at the last party, or the one before that. But I look up every time anyway. Jude leans in on his way past. “Who are you waiting on?”

“Nobody.”

“You’ve been staring at the door all night.”