by Autumn Grey
She snorts. “You call working at the diner fun?”
“So exciting, right?”
“Yeah.” She rolls her eyes with a laugh. “Anyway, once Grandma feels better, I’ll show you my version of fun.”
“Which is what exactly?”
“Patience, little grasshopper. You’ll see.”
Monday turns to Tuesday, and summer gets hotter and hotter. The diner takes up most of my time and energy, pushing thoughts of Sol and school to the back of my mind for later. Beverly and Mark return from their honeymoon, which is a relief. As soon as Beverly walks in through the diner’s doors on Wednesday morning, she grabs me by the shoulders and gently pushes me out the door, telling me to take the rest of the day off.
I get in my car and drive around without any destination in mind. Tomorrow’s Lemon Raspberry Cupcakes Thursday at the diner. I could go home and get a head start on those, but I prefer to make them in the evening so they’re still fresh the following morning.
One hour later, I find myself parked in front of Joe’s Auto Body Shop, where Sol told me he worked when we talked at Bev’s wedding.
The scene from Sunday after Mass pops in my head, Gavin’s words still fresh. I still can’t believe Sol punched him. I’m so confused. That image doesn’t really fit with the Sol I know.
A few people walk in and out of the shop, but I can’t see him anywhere. I’m still wondering if I should go in or drive off when he appears at the door of the workshop. I sit up straight, my eyes trailing him as he heads toward a white car parked under a tree shade just outside the shop. He pops the hood up, then turns the cap on his head backward before disappearing underneath. When he’s done, he starts heading for the workshop but stops in his tracks, turning around abruptly. He scans his surroundings, his brows lifting in surprise when he finds me watching him. He immediately changes direction, covering the distance between us in long strides.
Suddenly, my mouth feels dry, and my heart is racing as I take him in. The navy blue trousers he’s wearing are splattered with oil, giving him a rough look that fits him more than I’d like to admit. I roll down my window as he gets closer. My lips crack into a smile when he stops in front of my door, mirroring my expression.
“Hey.” He glances right and left as if scouting the area for something, before facing me again. He turns his cap around to face forward. “I feel like our roles have been reversed.”
“Yeah?” Shit, I sound breathless. Definitely not good. I really don’t want to scare him off. He already looks nervous as is it. “How’s that?”
Phew. My voice has gone back to normal.
“Stalker becomes the stalked.”
“Ha! Don’t flatter yourself, Solomon,” I say, rolling my eyes at him.
A few drops of sweat roll down the side of his face. He removes his cap and wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand before putting the cap back on. He smells like gasoline and oil and boy-man.
“What’s up? Aren’t you working at the diner today?”
“Bev’s back. She ordered me to take the rest of the day off.” My gaze drops to the white tag on the front of his navy blue T-shirt. It says Joe’s Auto Body Shop in bright red letters. “I was just driving by the garage, and . . . well, here I am.”
His hand reaches up and tugs one of my braids, rubbing the strands between the tips of his fingers. The back of his fingers brush my shoulder as they fall away. I jolt in my seat as the burning sensation of his touch ricochets all over my body.
Oh my gosh.
“I, uh, I should let you get back to work.” I grip the wheel with one hand, then use the other to turn the ignition key.
He studies my face, his features turning gentle. “Give me thirty minutes. Then I’ll be yours for the rest of the day.”
He walks back into the garage without waiting for my answer. I can’t help the way my gaze follows him, taking in the way his shoulders look, strong and sure, then my gaze drops to his ass, framed nicely in his work trousers.
Leaning my head back on the headrest, I blow out a breath and close my eyes, smiling. A hot breeze blows into the car, making the air inside the small space more stifling than before. I bunch up my T-shirt and tie a knot at my midriff to get some relief, then settle back in my seat.
I startle awake some time later to the feel of someone gently shaking my shoulder. I blink several times to clear my vision. Sol, now wearing a gray T-shirt and shorts, flashes his usual smile at me, causing my stomach to dip delightfully. I must have drifted off to sleep while I waited for him.
He opens my door all of a sudden and scoops me up from my seat, causing me to squeal. My arms flail around before clasping his neck for support.
“Put me down, you dork!”
He laughs, seemingly having gotten over the nervousness from before. “Nope.” Holding me with one arm, he leans back inside the car and rolls up the window and grabs my purse, kicking the door shut with his foot when he’s done. “We’ll take my truck. Your car will be safe here.”
“Where are we going?”
“You choose,” he says as he heads toward his truck. “Have you eaten already?”
I nod.
Sol sets me on my feet, then opens the passenger door. He looks at me thoughtfully, then at his truck, no doubt realizing I’m too short to climb the darn thing. Laughing softly as he shakes his head, he grips my hips and lifts me, settling me on the seat. Standing back, he waits as I buckle my seat belt with shaky fingers because oh my God! Sol is too sweet.
He rounds the car and hops into the driver’s seat, then twists his upper body to face me. “So where to?”
I bite my cheek, considering my choices. “Can I drive?”
He barks out a laugh. “No way. You look like you’re about to fall asleep. In fact, you were sleeping.” He watches me closely. “I could take you home—”
“Ranger’s Cove,” I blurt out.
He blinks, then says, “What?”
“You asked me where we’re going.”
“Okay.” He starts the car, then looks at me. “Ranger’s Cove it is then.”
I nod, smiling. I can’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed. Happy. It’s surreal. A few minutes into the drive, I reach over and pinch his bicep.
“What the—” He frowns while rubbing the offended spot. “What was that for?”
“Just making sure this is real.”
His eyes leave the road for a second to look at me. “Oh, it’s real. You’re sitting in my truck, and I’m trying my best to appear cool and calm about it.” Too soon, the mesmerizing ocean of his gaze returns to the road.
“Oh.” Oh. “You don’t have to pretend with me. Just be you,” I say quietly.
He sighs and rubs his forehead with his hand. “What are we doing, Grace? What am I doing?”
“We’re just hanging out. Don’t beat yourself up, Sol.”
He seems to consider this for several seconds, then he nods. “Cool.”
We drive for a few more minutes in silence. I study his profile with as much subtlety as I can muster. His features seem calmer now, carefree even. One of his hands steers the wheel while the other hangs loosely on the leather, his fingers tapping the wheel rhythmically.
“So what’s at Ranger’s Cove?” he asks, bobbing his head to whatever song is playing inside his mind.
I pull my legs onto the seat and rest my chin on my knees. “My mom and I used to go there when I was a kid. It’s one of my favorite places.”
“It’s always been just you and your mom?”
“Yes.” There’s a strain in the word. I don’t want to discuss my mom or the man who was never a father to me. “What song is playing in your head, Sol?” I tap my temple for emphasis.
His mouth curves into a smile. “‘Smells Like Teen Spirit.’” He points at his phone on the dashboard. “Put it on the docking station and check the playlist. It’s on there somewhere.”
I do as I’m told. The song starts playing through the speak
ers.
“I like it. You have good taste. Clearly, I underestimated you.”
He chuckles. “So you thought I had bad taste in music? Is it because I want to become a priest?”
I nod, slightly embarrassed. “Sorry.” I laugh awkwardly, settling back in my seat. “I thought you listened to whatever priests or seminarians listened to, to stay focused. Chanting songs or something.”
“Are you stereotyping me right now?” he points out, sounding amused.
“Oh, crap. I totally am. I didn’t think about it—”
“Relax, Grace. I’m only messing with you. But yeah, I save those for when I’m having a particularly, um, trying day.”
I want to ask him what he means by that, but then it occurs to me that he could be speaking about sex. Sol’s an eighteen-year-old guy. And from what I’ve seen and read about boys and their wild hormones, well, he must be very good at self-control.
“Are you going to miss it when you go to the seminary?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Miss what?”
“Hanging out with your friends? Freedom?” I pause, then add, “Sex?”
He chokes and starts coughing, his cheeks flushing red. “It’s not like I’m going to prison.” His index finger starts tapping a fast beat on the steering wheel. He’s nervous now. “You can’t miss what you’ve never had, I guess.”
And I don’t need to ask to know he’s talking about sex.
My legs slide down the seat as I twist my body to face him. “You’re a virgin?” How is that even possible?
“Yes.” He shifts in his seat uncomfortably, pinning me with a frown. “Why are you so surprised?”
“Because . . .” I start, then stop myself when his frown deepens. “I mean, the other day you admitted you’d never gone on a date and now this. You can’t seriously tell me girls haven’t thrown themselves at you.”
“I’ve had a few offers.” He shrugs. “I wasn’t interested.”
He’s looking at me intently before returning his eyes on the road, and I’m afraid to read what’s behind that look.
“Oh.” I purse my lips. “Wow.” Well, look at that, a guy who values virginity. “Okay. Please don’t take this the wrong way.”
He gives me a wary look.
“You have this angelic vibe going on, but then you smile like you did back at the garage and bam! It’s . . . I don’t know, there’s a little bit of wicked hidden under there, somewhere.” I shrug nonchalantly.
He chuckles. “You make me sound so badass. What about you, Gracie? Got any ounce of wicked in you?”
I glance out the window and bite my bottom lip. “Do you believe the rumors about me?” I face him again. I need to see his reaction to my question.
Humor drains from his face. “No.”
I pull my legs back up and hug them to my chest. The memory of that night after the pep rally flashes inside my head, haunting me. I wince, shutting my eyes.
Taking a shaky breath, I say, “Gavin and I, we’d been going out for a few weeks and he’d been hinting about us having sex. Then after the pep rally, we started fooling around in his car. It got heavy pretty quick. At first, I didn’t think too much of it. I was a lot more innocent and trusting back then, so I just went along with whatever he was doing.
“But when he became too intense with his touches, I realized his intentions. I got uncomfortable, so I stopped him and demanded he take me home. Which he did, but he was pretty pissed about it. He called me a cock tease.” I swallow the lump now blocking my throat, then whisper, “‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Like mother, like daughter.’ That’s what he said before he grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the car. He left me standing outside my apartment, confused and hurt, and drove off. I thought—I thought he loved me.”
I take a deep breath, remembering how my mom had freaked out when I entered the apartment, crying with my clothes in disarray. “Nothing happened, but—” I stop talking and stare ahead. “When I arrived at school the next day, rumors were already circulating that Gavin and I had sex the night before and that he dumped me because I was sleeping with other guys. I shouldn’t have let them victimize me like that. Naturally, everyone believed him without a second thought, and I became the school’s official slut.”
I bite my cheek and exhale. “Lithium” by Nirvana fills the silence. Eventually, I add in a small voice, “So, yes, I’m still a virgin, too.”
At some point during all this, he’d parked his truck on the side of the road.
From the corner of my eye, I see Sol’s hand move. He reaches for me, and his long fingers circle my neck, pulling me toward him.
At first, I resist, too embarrassed to move.
What if he pities me? I don’t want his pity. Or anybody else’s, for that matter.
“Come here,” he murmurs in a soft voice. His gentleness is my undoing.
Quickly, my fingers unbuckle my seat belt. I move closer to him, burying the side of my face into his shoulder, fighting back tears. Gavin is not worth my tears.
Silently, Sol starts driving again, and we stay like that for the rest of the drive.
“What Gavin said after Mass . . . is it true? Did you really hit him?”
Sol’s body tenses. I lift my head to meet his gaze, but he’s staring straight ahead, jaw clenched.
“Yes.”
His answer leaves me breathless for a few heartbeats. No one has ever stood up or fought for me, other than my mom. “Why did you do it?”
“He hurt you, Grace. How could I not?” Sol’s words are barely audible.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
That sound increases in volume and speed in my ears as his words play on repeat in my head.
Oh, gosh. “Thank you.”
His chest rises as he inhales deeply. He doesn’t say anything for several seconds. He sighs, then says, “I might not be a connoisseur on how to treat women, but what he did, it wasn’t right.”
Sitting here in Sol’s truck, leaning into him like he’s my anchor, I feel the heaviness that has been following me for three long years slowly melt away. Having Sol’s hand cupped around my nape protectively breaks me and eases the pain in me at the same time.
I’d never told anyone other than my mom what happened that night.
But I didn’t even hesitate with Sol. I trust him. And that both exhilarates and scares me.
When we arrive at Ranger’s Cove, I park the truck and jump out. My thoughts are still consumed by what Grace told me. I’m not one to hate. It goes against what I am and what I stand for. I’ve always been taught to forgive and be understanding. But Gavin? I could hate him easily. In fact, I think maybe I do.
“Love your enemies and do good to those who hate you.” Luke 6:27.
For once in my life, I wish I could get a one-day hall pass to feel all the emotions I hold back. I bet my soul would be lighter for it.
“You okay?” Grace asks, tentatively touching my arm, and some of the tension melts away.
I nod, forcing a smile, unable to form words for fear of speaking what’s really on my mind. We’re here to have fun, and I don’t want to be a killjoy.
She laces our fingers and tugs my hand gently. I follow her on a dirt path flanked by trees. Minutes later, we spill out into a small clearing with a view of the Saco River ahead of us. I’ve never been here before.
Beside me, Grace literally vibrates with energy the closer we get, increasing her pace, so I have to lengthen my strides to keep up with her.
We stop just as a group of guys our age are leaving, their hair and clothing wet. I lean forward, eyeing the water below, then glance at Grace. Her hands grip a rope I hadn’t noticed before, and she’s wearing a wide grin on her face. She kicks off her shoes and shakes her arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Rope swinging.”
I suck in a deep breath, trying to slow my panicking heart. “Wait, it’s almost a thirty-foot drop to the water. And y
ou’re not dressed for swimming.”
She laughs, the sound reminding me of the beginning of spring. “It’s not that high. I’ve done this before. But we could walk farther down this trail and jump off a twenty-foot cliff if you prefer.” She adds the latter in a teasing voice.
“God, no.” I shudder. “What kind of person jumps off a cliff for fun?”
She winks at me. “You have no idea what you’ve been missing.”
She’s crazy.
But she’s also kind of awesome.
I watch anxiously as Grace tightens her hold around the rope with both hands. She looks over her shoulder at me, grinning wide, then looks back into the shimmering water below. She sprints forward, her bare feet gaining momentum as she nears the edge of the cliff. Then she throws her full weight into the jump, the rope swinging with her body. When she’s about thirty feet above the water, she lets go and does a backflip before her body disappears beneath the surface of the water.
Leaning my shoulder on the nearest tree, I watch, hypnotized and slightly light-headed as she repeats the process over and over. Eventually, she stands in front of me, water still dripping down her body and—
“Come on, Sol. Your turn.” She nudges my shoulder with her hand, pointing at the rope.
But my legs seem to have lost the ability to move. I watch her as she squeezes the water from one braid, then the second. She looks really young without makeup. So beautiful.
My eyes veer down, and I groan inwardly. Her white T-shirt is plastered against her body, accentuating the outline of her purple bra. The exposed skin of her midriff looks so soft, my fingers itch to touch it. Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I drop my eyes to her mid-thigh denim shorts, checking out her amazing legs.
Christ, I can’t stop staring at her. My dick seems to have forgotten the little promise I made to myself, and he’s suddenly very interested in being more than friends.
She coughs, and my head snaps up. The look she gives me makes it clear I wasn’t subtle at all. She chooses not to comment on it, thank God. “So? Will you try it?”
I clear my throat to get rid of the tightness holding my voice captive. “No way am I dropping into that river.”
