The Second We Met

by Hughes, Maya

  Crossing my arms over my chest, I leaned back against the wooden beam running down the center of the workshop. “Jealous?”

  “Screw you. I’m not jealous.” She scoffed and shoved her hands under her arms, which had the unfortunate side effect of making me one hundred percent aware of the great rack she had.

  Her gaze followed mine and a scarlet flush crept up her neck, filling her cheeks.

  “You sure seem to be. If people are having fun, they can’t help it.”

  “I’m not into people being here for the selfies and pats on the back.” Damn, that hit was a missile lobbed with uncanny accuracy, but she didn’t know this whole thing came with a photo op for me.

  My head jerked back and my eyebrows dipped. “Have I taken a selfie since I’ve been here?” I held my hands out to my sides with my fingers spread wide.

  Was that a giant pulsing vein in her forehead? It looked like a giant pulsing vein in her forehead.

  “I’m done.” She stormed out of the workshop and straight for Rick. Shit, if she got me kicked off this project, my dad would be on my case double time. She barely stopped and said something to him. His head jerked back and he stared at me. I was so fucked.

  He dug his hand into his pocket then pulled out a set of keys and cash from his wallet.

  She snatched them from his grasp and stormed off.

  Did she just rob him? Rick turned and walked in my direction. I backed into the workshop and picked up the level. We’d at least made it through half of a ramp frame. If I could finish that, maybe today would count for something.

  “Elle said we were running low on water, so she’s going to do a run to the store. Why don’t you help? She’s not going to be able to carry all of it on her own. She also didn’t ask where I parked my car. Go catch up to her and let her know it’s on the other side of the site.”

  I stifled the relieved breath that shot out of my lungs. So she hadn’t ratted me out. At least there was that.

  “I mentioned before that a photographer might be coming by to take some pictures at the end of the week—is that still okay with you? If not, I understand and I can cancel it.”

  “Not a problem. The more publicity we can get for the work we have going on here, the better.”

  “If we could keep this between us for now, I’d appreciate it.” I looked after Elle, blazing her way across the site. “The timing might not work out and I don’t want anyone to be disappointed.”

  “No problem. You’d better catch up before she walks halfway across the city.”

  I shook his hand and took off after her.

  “Thanks, Nix.” He waved and pointed me in the direction of his car.

  What could I do about the unfortunate case of Elle hating my guts while still getting the reputation rehab I needed? She’d flip her shit if she found out, and I didn’t want her to have the satisfaction of thinking she’d been right about me all along. Maybe I just needed to make nice and get her to ease the hell up. How hard could that be?

  I followed the muttering and swearing to find Elle wandering the outskirts of the site, looking for Rick’s car.

  I cupped my hands over my mouth. “It’s not over there.”

  Her head shot up and her eyes narrowed. If looks could kill, I’d have been talking to everyone through a Ouija board right about now.

  “How do you know?” She stomped with each step.

  “Rick told me where it was and said I needed to go along with you to help with the water run.” I stuck my hands in my pockets and tried not to delight too much in the way her neck got all tight and red as she got closer.

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “That’s not what Rick said, and if you don’t want to spend the next hour looking for his car, I think you do need my help.”

  She stood toe to toe with me. There was no starry-eyed admiration like there was with most people I met. There was only a fiery, biting glare.

  I’d learned early that there was a certain type of woman who was very good at making you think they didn’t care about football at all but traded on the prestige of dating a QB when you weren’t around. Elle was not that kind of woman.

  I smiled big and wide. It shouldn’t have felt so good to piss someone off, but I knew where I stood with Elle. No hidden agendas, no questions about the draft, only watching my back for booby traps and taking every chance I got to piss her off.

  After I showed her where Rick’s car was, she rushed forward and got in, nearly making it out of the parking spot before my fingers grabbed the door handle. “Going somewhere without me?”

  More muttering and grumbling. “Get in and let’s get this over with.” Her hands tightened around the steering wheel.

  The latch on my door barely had a chance to click before she sped out of the parking lot, shifting gears like she was an F1 driver. I snapped my jaw shut as the car swung around a corner, hugging the curb.

  “You can drive stick?” I pressed my hands against the dashboard, bracing myself as my life flashed before my eyes.

  “No.” She dropped her chin to her shoulder and stared. Her gaze whipped back to the windshield and she shifted again. The car sped up and her thighs moved up and down as she worked the clutch.

  If my heart hadn’t been trying to climb out of my throat, I’d have thought she looked damn sexy showing the gears who was boss. Then again, this was Elle I was talking about; such thoughts were a one-way ticket to castration.

  I banged my watch against the glass as I reached out to brace myself when she took a corner like we were on a track.

  “Can you not break another window please? Especially when you don’t plan on paying for it.” She talked like she was grinding glass with her teeth.

  “What is it with you? Not pay for it? I think I’ve paid plenty. The city got their check.”

  “What about me, huh?” She took her eyes off the road for an uncomfortable amount of time. “After you broke my freaking window and never paid up, we had to pay for it. The landlord blamed us. Do you know how much that cost? I’m sure you have no idea since you’re a big shot with unlimited funds, but some of us get stuck with the bill.”

  “I paid for that window.”

  “No, you didn’t, and I got stuck eating peanut butter and jelly for a month so the freaking crickets and mosquitos didn’t start setting up shop in our house.”

  “Your landlord was outside looking at the window and I gave him cash to cover it, over a thousand dollars.”

  Elle’s eyes widened and her head whipped around to mine. “Sonofabitch.” I’d never seen anyone’s head lift clear off their head in a mini-atomic explosion, but I swore she was a split second from going nuclear. “That lying little snake weasel.” She let a few more inventive combinations of insults fly. The wheels were turning, and I could only imagine the torture Elle was plotting in her head. At least I wasn’t on the receiving end—this time.

  She turned to me, and the rage in her eyes dialed down to a simmer. Her mouth opened and closed a couple times.

  “I’m sorry.” Those two words seemed so conflicted coming out of her mouth aimed at me. “He told us you denied any responsibility and said you hadn’t done it.” She squeezed the back of her neck. “And I believed him.”

  “What an asshole.” That had started the real spiral of animosity. I hadn’t hardly been able to believe she’d still continued to call the cops after I’d overpaid for her window to get fixed, and maybe part of me had let those parties get a little louder than they should’ve and stretch on a bit longer because I knew it got under her skin. Maybe the water balloon and water gun fights on our street that ended up on her small patch of lawn hadn’t been the best way to smooth things over.

  “You don’t know the half of it.” She ground her teeth.

  Pulling into the grocery store like she was ready for the pit crew to swap out the tires and gas up the car, she hopped out and slammed the door.

  I braced my hands on the open door and the seat then ducked my h
ead between my knees, sucking in a deep breath. Air back in my lungs, I jogged after Elle.

  Her fingers were white-knuckle tight around the shopping cart, and she wielded it through the aisles like a weapon. No one was safe, not even little old ladies, that guy in a scooter, or the shopping cart piled high with kids. Everyone jumped out of the way as she passed.

  “I’m sorry about her. She’s new to this planet and doesn’t know how to act like a normal human being,” I shouted out to anyone we blazed by who hadn’t lost a toe already.

  Charging into the aisle with the water, she grabbed the first case from the highest shelf. Her hand slipped off the edge and I dove for it, snagging it with one arm. I gritted my teeth as my shoulder ached at the awkward angle.

  “Careful.” I pulled it over her shoulder and used both hands to stack it in the cart.

  “I had it,” she grumbled.

  “Next time, I’ll let you get the concussion, then.” I picked up another pack of water and added it to the pile. With a water-laden cart, I took over pushing toward the cashier. I wanted everyone there to keep their feet and knees intact. Snagging a few boxes of donuts and cookies to add to our haul, I skidded to a halt at the checkout lane.

  “That stuff can’t go on this card.” She lifted her chin toward the snacks.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it.”

  She let out a sharp breath, and I could feel the eye roll through the back of my head. “Of course you do, Golden Boy.” It sounded like the worst kind of backhanded compliment. Two steps forward and eight steps back.

  9

  Elle

  Sleeping straight through my alarm should’ve been the first signal that it wasn’t going to be a good day. I got dressed, grabbed my stuff, and rushed out of the house in less than ten minutes.

  Hopping in my car, I rode the edge of the speed limit. Was taking the bus the mature thing to do? Sitting there with Nix and pretending our blowup hadn’t happened? Yes, it was, and with anyone else, I’d have sucked it up, but this was Nix. So, was I mature? That was a big pile of hell no.

  My engine rocked and clanked. Even with regular maintenance, there wasn’t much to be done about taking care of a car older than me. How long did it take for a car to be considered vintage? Maybe it was secretly a collector’s item. I threw it into park and the whole car shuddered.

  Or maybe it was a pile of junk.

  Buying a new car wasn’t in the budget; it just wasn’t. Hell, my tuition wasn’t in the budget, but I tried to pick up as many paying shifts as I could, which meant I kept running into Mitchell as he walked into the community service center on campus. Without fail, it was like he had an alert out for when I was on my way to work, but avoiding that side of campus wasn’t an option. I needed to work. It was a double-edged sword when the volunteer work was what I needed to finally pay off my tuition and have some money after graduation, but I also needed some of that money right now, a chicken-or-the-egg kind of problem. Plus, if I ended up in the Peace Corps, there wasn’t much need to keep this hunk of junk going. I’d be gone for two years overseas in a country without running water and they’d help me pay off my student loans.

  And here I was whining about my serviceable car.

  Guilt and shame gnawed at my gut and I rested my head against the steering wheel. It was all I could do not to fall asleep there. The bus wouldn’t arrive for another half an hour. If I got off my ass and got over to the ramp workshop, maybe I could get through the bulk of our work for the day before Nix got there on the bus and leave him to finish without guilt.

  My head popped up at the low crunch of gravel in the parking area. Good, Rick was early; that meant I could get started and explain that I needed to be somewhere after our time on site and that’s why I hadn’t taken the bus—not because I was avoiding a certain QB who shall remain nameless. That somewhere I needed to be was not in a confined metal box with Nix. I threw open my door and stopped with one foot out of my car.

  It wasn’t Rick. It was a shiny, navy, brand-spanking-new Mercedes S-Class. My gaze darted to the driver. He stared at me through the passenger window.

  Cursing under my breath, I reached into the back seat and grabbed my bag. I slammed my driver’s side door. It took three tries, but I finally got it to latch.

  The low purr of his engine cutting off and the smooth click of his door being closed were the only sounds other than the morning calls from the birds in the trees. I swore they were laughing at me. Nix’s gravel-crunching steps got closer.

  “Trying to get an early start?” he called out.

  Turning, I resisted the urge to cross my arms over my chest. I let them hang at my sides.

  He wasn’t going to get to me today. His hair was still wet, falling in perfect tousled waves and brushing against his forehead. His gaze dropped to my legs.

  My hands tightened around the strap of my backpack. It was laundry day, so the shorts I had on weren’t exactly construction-site-friendly. Don’t you dare tug at the hems. I clenched my fists at my sides. Since when was I so hyperaware of every aspect of my body?

  “Seems you had the same idea.”

  There’d never been a grimmer nod than his.

  “Let’s get to work then.” And get this over with. Did I mumble that or was it in my head? Either way, he followed behind me like we’d both been sentenced to the mines for hard labor for the next twelve hours.

  I dropped my stuff on the work bench and picked up some tools. Shoving my hand into the front zipper of my bag, I cursed under my breath. That’s what I got for leaving the house this tired.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing, it’s fine.” I’d fill up on water and go get something during the lunch break. My stomach rumbled like a creature from the black lagoon.

  The crinkling and rustle of paper behind me made my stomach growl louder. The heavenly scent of sausage and cheese drifted across the workshop like a cartoon scent trail, completely filling my nose. My mouth watered.

  Lifting the hammer, I turned just in time for Nix to take the first bite of his breakfast sandwich. My stomach growled and I stared at the large bites he took, his jaw working up and down, dimples taunting me as much as the food in his hand. He picked up a box of nails and set them down beside the ramp. The muscles in his arms tightened and flexed.

  I licked my lips. Maybe I should go get some food before everyone else arrived. I was hallucinating about Nix in a way that was not bordering on homicidal.

  He glanced up at me with half the sandwich still stuck in his mouth. Taking it out, he licked his lips…full, strong lips… Dude, get a freaking grip. Better yet, get some food. Some people got hangry, and I’d apparently stumbled into another type of hunger to mask my grumbling stomach.

  “Did you want some?”

  I scrunched my face up. “No, thanks. I don’t need your half-eaten sandwich.”

  Rolling his eyes, he walked over to his bag and tugged out another yellow-paper-wrapped bundle of joy.

  “I brought three.”

  I wanted to say no. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him no and suffer through it, but I couldn’t. My body was not getting on the Nix hate train when breakfast meats were involved. “Sure, if you’re not going to eat it.”

  “Nah, it’s cool. I have some other stuff too, if you need it.” He held out the sandwich like he was offering it up to a wild animal.

  As I took it from his hand, our fingers brushed. I snatched mine back, careful to bring the sandwich with me, and slowly unwrapped it, not digging into it like a bear after honey like I wanted. Carefully unfolding the paper, I took the first bite, and it was the perfect mix of salty meat, cheese, and toasted bread.

  “Glad you like it.” He laughed and finished off the rest of his sandwich.

  Covering my mouth with my hand, I mumbled through chewed food. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Picking up a saw, he spun it in his hands, his biceps bunching under the soft cotton of his t-shirt. Football had be
en good to him. The strong muscles in his forearms stood out. He’d had twenty-three touchdown passes this season.

  How did I know that? People had been screaming it while running down our street when he’d won the championship.

  I set the paper down and picked up the bottom half of the English muffin. Scarfing it down, I used one hand to double measure the wood to make sure it didn’t come up short. Double sausage patties incoming. I hadn’t even known you could order these with two patties, but I’d never been more grateful for Nix’s bottomless pit of a stomach. I stuck the pen behind my ear and picked up the egg. Goodbye yolk! I freed the egg whites from their gross chalky brother and ate what was left.

  So good. It was probably full of at least ten pats of butter. That’s why restaurant food always tastes so good. I marked the other pieces of wood. Lifting the other muffin to my mouth, I glanced to my side.

  Nix stared at me with the hand saw mid-slice through the wood I’d measured.

  “What?” I covered my full mouth.

  “Do you always pick your food apart like that?”

  I stared down at my breakfast massacre. “Maybe.” I shoved the sausage patty into my face like he was going to steal it back. Let him try and he’ll pull back a nub. I licked my fingers, not willing to sacrifice the salty goodness to a napkin.

  Nix’s gaze was on me even as he sawed through the wood. I could feel it. Could he feel it when I stared at him too? Could he feel it right now? Our eyes clashed and my sated stomach flipped. I turned around, gathering what I needed. A guy gives me some food and I’ve suddenly lost my mind.

  We worked in silence, finishing the ramp Nix had almost completed the day before. There was a flicker of guilt that I’d bailed and given him such a hard time at the store. He had shared his sandwich with me, and Jules always said sharing food was a sign someone wasn’t all bad. With the way she gave it away, she was practically Mother Teresa.

  Burning the candle at both ends was catching up to me. With the shelter, my shifts at Uncommon Grounds, and tutoring sessions, I was limping toward the finish line of graduation in a marathon that had lasted for the past three and a half years. Most people were on spring break, jet-setting around the world. Cabo, Paris, Fiji—there wasn’t a destination too spectacular, so why was Nix here? Why wasn’t he in some exotic location, flaunting those abs I’d seen when he lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face? He was hard to pin down, and that unsettled the hate-hate relationship we’d worked so hard on cultivating.