Page 44 of Down Bad

“He’s an asshole.”

“I said I know.”

After a moment, he looks down. “I’m …” He sighs. “I’m sorry for …” He starts gnawing on his lip, then looks away.

And just when I think the apology might come out, he turns to go, heading for the door.

Seriously?

Again?

“Diego.”

I don’t even realize it happened. I sprang from the counter at once. And now I’m gripping his wrist, and he’s stopped.

And we’re standing just like that. In the middle of the store.

Me, gripping him by the wrist.

Diego has stopped, looking back at me, wide-eyed.

Like he’s terrified of me.

Big strong Diego. Scared. By a flower boy gripping his wrist.

Which is slowly starting to feel more like holding his hand.

“You have soft hands,” I tell him.

His eyebrows creep up his forehead. “H-Huh …?”

“For a mechanic,” I clarify.

Somehow, that confuses him more.

And me.

What the fuck am I saying?

“Sorry, that was, uh, weird,” I mumble. I think I’m blushing. “Don’t know why I said that.”

“It’s fine,” he grunts right back.

Then we lock eyes. For a while.

Saying nothing.

It’s almost unbearable.

“Why’d you kiss me the other night?”

I ask the question in a whisper, as if someone might overhear. Who knows. A town like Spruce, it feels like sets of ears are hiding within the plants.

His hand flinches.

Like he was gonna pry it out of my grip and changed his mind.

He still doesn’t answer.