“All right,” I say through a sigh. I get to my feet and tug up my jeans a little, my shirt now feeling like a goddamn halter.
“Atta girl,” Abby says, slapping my ass just before I make my way to the garage. Naomi is quick on my heels, probably to lock the door behind me. Do any of them realize I can hit the button inside?
The escape plan zips through my mind just as I open the door, but then it’s quickly replaced with panic and dread so toxic that my knees buckle a little. Naomi pushes me inside and slams the door shut. The lock clicks behind me, and Lucas meets my stare. He’s sitting on a folding chair with his phone in his palm.
“Oh, fuck me.” Disdain slips from his mouth the moment everything goes black. This was the catch. Five minutes in the dark, locked in the garage, but not alone.
With Lucas Fuller.
I spin around and flatten my palms on the wall, feeling in search of a switch or the garage door opener. Something stabs at the side of my palm as I slide it closer to the door.
“Shit!” I mutter under my breath and feel along my skin. It’s damp. I cut myself on something. My phone is in my back pocket, so I take it out awkwardly with the opposite hand; it slips from my grip and bounces at my feet. I want to cry. I also want to punch things.
I’m mid-squat when the glow of a phone light brightens the ground a few feet in front of me. I glance up and squint at the flash from Lucas’s phone.
“Thanks,” I say. I feel humbled, and mortified. My phone is just underneath the front end of one of the cars. Lowering myself, I reach out until my hand lands on it to drag it closer. The garage goes dark again.
Tapping on my phone with the hope it still works, I rest back on my legs, resigned to this pathetic position for the remaining four minutes I’m stuck here. The cracks on my phone screen take up most of the surface, and one of the corners is badly chipped. With my luck, I’m sure I’ll find a way to prick my finger on it . . . again.
The metal chair Lucas was sitting in screeches along the floor, so I glance up to see whether I can see him. I can make out his form. His long arms stretch upward, and I bet if he jumped just a little, his fingertips would graze the ceiling. He’s wearing a light T-shirt and jeans, a flannel tied around his waist. It’s too dark with only my phone light to tell whether he’s looking at me or not, and I’m not sure which I prefer.
As his feet slide closer, I let my body relax into a sitting position, legs folded around each other like a pretzel. I cup my broken phone in my lap and graze my fingertips along the screen to send shouty-cap swears to Abby. The dome light from the car flickers on at my right, and from my periphery, I see Lucas lean inside. He taps a button near the rearview mirror and the garage door lifts.
I stand to brush dust from my knees and ass, and flip my hair back just in time to come face-to-face with the source of that sharp pain I sometimes feel when I look out my bedroom window. Those blue eyes still glow like sapphires, even in the faintest of light, but the boyish dimples have given way to harsh angles and a set jaw framing emotionless lips. Lucas has always been three or four inches taller than me, but that difference feels even greater as he stares down at me.
“I didn’t know you were in here.” Fuck, I haven’t spoken to him in two years and the first words I say are a pathetic apology for being in a garage at the same time. I roll my shoulders and force myself to stand straighter—taller. His head cocks to the side ever so slightly and he lifts his hand, holding the garage door opener out for me to take. I do, and I hate that I do. This is not how this conversation between us was supposed to go. He was supposed to apologize, not me. And he should be giving me flowers, not some taped-together garage clicker from one of his asshole friend’s cars.
“Tell Ava she’s a dick.” He doesn’t stick around to wait for my response, turning and taking long strides out of the garage with his hands shoved in his pockets and his pace evident of just how much he wants to get away from me.
There’s a little more than a minute left on my time in here, assuming those assholes plan on sticking with their own dumb rule. By the time Lucas disappears around the bushes at the end of the long driveway, I’ve made up my mind to take his last bit of advice. With the garage remote in my hand, I leave the same way Lucas did and reenter the house through the front door, elbowing through the people gathered in the front room. I toss the opener into the bowl of paper dares, and the gossip fest that’s probably going down on the sofa ceases immediately. I feel my best friend’s eyes on me without having to look. My focus is set on the ice princess leaning forward and folding her hands on her pushed-together knees like she’s some sort of lady.
“You’re a dick, Ava.” I hold her stare for a breath, just long enough for her to understand that I mean it, and I’m not afraid of her opinion of me anymore. I don’t know where the chip on her shoulder came from, but I didn’t put it there. If she wants to keep it, that’s on her.
I glance down to where my friend is still sitting on the floor, and the approving grin that has spread across her entire face tells me two things: one, I’ve just entertained the shit out of her; and two, she’s giving me a gold star for the night.
“This game is juvenile. Next time, I’ll bring the games to the party, ladies, and we’ll have some real fun.” Abby winks at Ava as she gets to her feet and walks right through the middle of the group of girls still huddled around the scene. She reaches into her pocket and hands me her keys, then links our arms together as we turn our backs on only the first dose of drama we’re bound to see this year.
I don’t say a word and she doesn’t ask questions as our feet hit the blacktop and we cut through the rows of cars lining the street. I notice that Lucas’s truck is still here about a second before his headlights flick on and the engine roars to life.
“Looks like someone else thought that party was pretty lame, too,” my friend says. And because she’s my rock, and because I don’t lie to her, I tell her everything.
“He was in the garage. And he’s a dick, too.” I save that last part until we’re walking right next to his unrolled window. I glance his way after I say it, and our eyes meet for a brief moment. When Abby and I get another full car length away, his tires peel out as he takes off.
“Well, if this ain’t a new June Mabee,” she says, swaying her hip into me. I gurgle out a faint laugh and smile with tight lips. My smile falls as soon as our arms part and my friend walks to the passenger side of her car.
Sure, I’m proud of what I did. Doesn’t mean I don’t wish like hell that none of it happened.
Chapter Two
I guess I made a name for myself, beyond “that girl who lives next to the Fullers.” That’s what I’m usually called, especially by the girls who had crushes on Lucas in junior high and our freshman year. A few times, his groupies have tried to befriend me just to worm their way into a sleepover so they can stare at him through my window.
Joke’s always on them. I don’t have sleepovers, except with Abby, and she doesn’t count because she’s like family. That’s my mom’s rule. She’s funny about having strangers in the house. Even more so since my dad left. I think maybe she’s become really distrustful. I guess I have, too.