I start to protest when a man from one of the loud tables watching the game bumps into my shoulder, almost unmounting me from the stool.

  I watch Cole tense and sneer. “What do you want, buddy?” he snaps.

  Cole takes care of his drink order then turns back to me.

  “I still want to call Triple-A,” I say. “Can I use your phone or not?”

  “Too late.” His voice almost sings in my ear. He crosses the back of the bar and steps out onto the main floor just as a tall, slender guy with a long goatee and a silver ring through his nose steps forward.

  “This the girl?” he asks, and I feel my cheeks blush. Why? I don’t know. Something about being called the girl in Cole’s presence, I guess.”

  “Yeah,” Cole answers. “The car’s across in the mall lot. Let me text Joel to come upfront, and I’ll walk over with you.”

  I begin to tell him not to bother. I’m sure Snake won’t harm me being a friend to him, but after our discussion, before I’m sure Cole will only protest so, I save my breath and follow the boys out of the bar.

  They are chatting in front of me. At first, talking about the sizes of tries and how difficult it will be to replace the hubcaps, but Snake might know a guy. Then the conversation turns to Cole and his search for an apartment. From what I can glean, the hunt is going well, and money seems to be the main factor.

  We reach the street, and before they cross, Cole stops and waits for me. It’s the smallest of actions. Still, Cole presses his hand into my back and escorts me across the road before returning to his conversation.

  “These aren’t cheap, man,” Snake starts. He’s stepped away to the truck parked beside my car and opens the back. “You sure your old man isn’t going to come after me for touching this car?”

  Cole steps close to my car and leans on the hood. He’s studying me. Waiting for my answer.

  My old man wouldn’t notice if I sold the car and started taking a motorcycle to the beach. He’s that out of reality. “It’s my car. Why would he mind?” I glance at Cole just as he’s looking at Snake. They share a nonverbal language that makes me wish I’d signed up for psychology 101 in the fall. Maybe then I’d understand all the grins and eyes movements between them.

  “Some daddies can be very overprotective of their belongings,” Cole answers. I start to repeat the car is mine when I catch his hidden meaning. He’s worried about me. What will happen when my father finds out who helped with the car.

  My cheeks heat again. This blushing thing is getting out of control.

  Snake has stopped moving at the back of his truck. He has a tire on the tailgate, but instead of bringing it over, he’s staring at me. So is Cole. They are waiting for something. Waiting for me, but I missed whatever it is they need.

  “She’s good. Ashley’s not like that. I wouldn’t have called you if it was anyone else.”

  Cole’s words have Snake moving again. I’m still stuck on not being like what and why could he only call Snake for me.”

  The tire rolls by my feet, and Snake begins to position it into place. “Damn assholes took your lug-nuts.” He glances over one shoulder to Cole. “I think there’s a set in the black box behind the driver’s seat. Grab them for me, will ya.”

  Cole pushes off the hood and is gone in a second, leaving me alone with a guy named Snake in a dark parking lot on the Northside. There are movies about this kind of thing. They never end well for girls like me.

  “You know Cole, well?” Snake asks while he fiddles with the tire.

  “Not really. He was the bartender at my graduation party last week.”

  Snake makes a noise in his throat like he’s swallowing a laugh. “Orange Juice girl,” he adds.

  Damn. The heat in my skin rises again. What the heck is wrong with me. And why is Cole going around calling me Orange Juice girl to everyone? Why is he talking about me at all?

  Cole returns with the lug nuts, and Snake makes quick work of the first tire then moves to the second. While he’s working on the other side of the car, Cole crosses the street to check on the bar then returns.

  “I hope I’m not getting you into trouble doing this.” It’s dark enough now that it doesn’t matter if my cheeks blush, though the more refreshing ocean breeze helps keep them cool.

  “Nah,” he shakes his head. “Joel is like my big brother. He gets it. And I brought you something.” He slips his hand into his front pocket and pulls out a black cord. “I have an extra if it will fit your phone. You shouldn’t drive home without at least a way to call for help.”

  I take the cord from him, and my finger brushes against his thumb. It’s an inch of skin making contact with an inch of skin. My body reacts as if Cole had wrapped me in a bear hug, and all his inches collided with all of mine.

  “I’ll bring it back to you tomorrow,” I start, but he raises his hand to stop me.

  “Someone left it in the bar last month and hasn’t come looking for it. It’s yours.”

  “Thanks,” I nod, then lean back on my driver’s side door. My stomach falls a little, and I realize my mistake. For a second, I thought he was offering me something of his.

  Snake pops up from the other side of the car, and my deep thought bubble bursts.

  “That’ll get you home, but these are used tires from the lot, so you might want to get this car into the shop tomorrow. Make sure they didn’t screw anything up when they stripped the others off and get a set made for this beauty.” He taps his fingers on the hood. “Ever think of selling her, you remember your old friend, Snake.”

  “I will.” I laugh, but I can’t be sure if I do because for a guy named Snake, he’s kind enough, or I’m releasing nervous energy. He’s about to leave, and I’m not sure if I should offer to pay him or if that would insult him. I go for something I've heard on television that sounds cool enough to not come off as a rich girl throwing around her money. “How do I settle with you?”

  Snake raises a brow, but as soon as he glances at Cole, the brow drops. “We’re square. I owe my man here one. We’ll call it even.” He finishes wiping his hand with a rag and reaches for Cole’s hand. After they shake, he reaches out for mine. His hands are twice the size of mine and rough to the touch. When we shake, I feel nothing. No sparks. No burning skin. No inch of skin setting me on fire. “Catch ya tomorrow,” he tosses at Cole. “See ya, Orange Juice.” That one goes straight to me.

  I watch Cole narrow a glance at Snake. Snake laughs it off and climbs into his truck before revving the engine and pulling out of the lot.

  We’re alone in the dark with Snake’s comment hanging between us. I’d love to know why Cole talked about me to him. Did he make fun of me, the rich girl with all the friends who wanted to be alone?

  “He can be a real jackass at times. Don’t listen to him,” Cole interjects my thoughts. He opens the driver's door for me. He wants to get rid of me.

  “Jackass or not, he fixed my car,” I say, taking a seat and feeling odd defending the guy who put this barrier between us.

  Cole laughs. “That’s why I keep him around.” Then he hands me a card with the bar logo on one side and a number scribbled on the back. “My cell, in case the bar line is busy. Text me when you make it home. I want to make sure these tires hold up.”

  For a split second, I’d thought he was giving me his number for something else. What? I have no idea. But, adding the part about making sure the tires held up burnt, and I’m not sure why. He’s just nice. He’s done so much already. What more could I want from this guy?

  I cut on the engine, plug my phone into his charger, and shut the door. Through the open window, I watch him. Spiked black hair. Ink escaping the cuffs around his arms and neck. Shoulders so big and broad The Trap looks disproportionate spread across his chest. This guy has no idea how hard I am crushing. This guy would probably laugh if he knew.

  I’ll never be more than Orange Juice Girl to him, so I wave and thank him once again for everything and pull off into the night.

  Thirty minutes later, the house is dark when I pull up the drive. Dad isn’t home yet from work, and Joyce, the woman he’s employed to do the cooking and cleaning now that mom isn’t taking care of it all, has left for the night.

  I’m all alone in the house, but I still wait until I’m in my room with the door shut before I pull out my cell and the card with Cole’s number.

  Home safe. Thanks for everything. OJG

  I drop to my bed and close my eyes tight. That’s the end of it. I’m probably dreaming about Cole tonight. And that’s all it will be. A dream. A guy like that wouldn’t want more from me. I’m not his type.

  I pull off my sweater and jean shorts and throw on the oversized Outer-banks tee I wear to bed. I climb in under the covers, too spent to worry about brushing my hair or washing my face. My eyes close, and I can see Cole’s face. His dark eyes watching me. His hands reaching for mine. I feel his fingers brushing over mine.

  Then my phone dings with a text notification. No one ever texts me.

  No one. Except maybe Cole.

  Chapter 2

  Cole

  Joel’s place is busy as crap over the weekend. I barely have time to piss and sleep between shifts. But the tips are okay, and as long as the money rolls in steady, I’ll be behind the bar slinging.

  I need to get out of this place. Out of Joel’s back room. Out of this oppressive town. Out from under the mistakes I’ve made here. But most of all, I need out from anywhere Ashely Whitaker could happen to walk in.

  Between shifts, I’ve only worked on my art in small chunks because I’ve either been thinking about her thighs sticking out of those cutoff shorts she wore the other day, or I’ve been thinking about those thighs wrapped around my waist.

  I can’t lie. I’ve rubbed more than one out to Ash’s sweet perky lips and the way they don’t wholly touch when she’s deep in thought. That small, inviting hole has been my demise for days.

  And the text she sent, I’m home. Safe. Thanks for being there tonight, I can hear her saying the words in my head over and over no matter how hard I try to make them stop.

  Fuck. She’s boring into me. Into my life. I can’t want her and still move forward. Wanting her won’t get me the hell out of Marshville any more than daydreaming about her will make the images in my imagination real.

  I need her out of my system, which is about the most fucked up thing I’ve thought in days because other than saving her ass the other night, I have no reason to feel anything for her.

  Then I remember those eyes. Large and dark and deep and watching me like she’s stuck in a rip current, and I’m the shoreline. What the hell is that about? Anyone who chooses me as their lifeline needs to reevaluate their life choices.

  “Earth to Nimrod.” Joel’s raspy voice pulls me from the pit of self-loathing I’d fallen into. “Snake’s out back. Something about a bonfire?”

  Shit. This is why I need her out of my brain. Ashley. Her name doesn’t sound right, even when I’m only thinking about it like it’s too pure for me. “The guys are throwing one tonight on the north end.”

  Joel runs a hand over his chin then up to his hair. “And you need booze?”

  Just like a brother from another mother, Joel can read my mind. Either that or he’s onto Snake only coming around when he needs something.

  “He helped me out the other night, so I owe him. Friends and family discount a couple of kegs?”

  Joel wants to say no. I see it on the way he grounds his jaw. He and Snake were like brothers in high school. Only Joel decided to make something of himself and open the bar while Snake is still mooching off the kindness of others and living in his parent’s basement.

  “I wouldn’t waste my time, but Snake helped me out the other night, and I owe him.”

  Joel’s head falls back, and a roar of laughter rolls up his throat. “Snake? You sure hell hasn’t frozen over. What was in it for him?”

  “Nothing,” I answer before my stomach grows cold, and the rest of me begins to burn from the inside out.

  He wouldn’t do the thing that just flashed to mind. He wouldn’t go after Ashley Whitiker.

  I’m no better for her than he is, but fuck. At least I have morals.

  “Take a keg. You’ve earned it this week. But don’t get comfy with that one. Snake isn’t just a nickname.”

  I nod, feeling each of Joel’s words slam into my chest. The image of Snake holding Ashley flashes to mind and pick up a shot glass and heavy, poor Tequila. It burns my throat and blurs my head enough to dislodge the image.

  “Did you forget about tonight, Bro?” Snake’s leaning against the back door with a Juul hanging from his lips. “I’ve got the van ready, just need the spirits.”

  “Joel gave me one.” I motion to the stack of kegs we prepared earlier in the day. Summer parties are hoping this time of year, and he likes to have a supply on hand for last-minute orders.

  “One?” Snake drops his Juul in his shirt pocket and slinks over to where I’m rolling the dolly up to the keg. He doesn’t bend to help load or offer to hold the handle, so the dolly doesn’t slide. He’s staring instead. “You couldn’t talk that tightass into two? Those tires weren’t easy to get. Maybe she’d like a visitor rolling up to her house asking for payment.”

  I’m already hot from lifting the keg alone, but when Snake’s threat hits me, my blood turns to lava and my fists clench around the rim of the metal.

  If I didn’t know Joel would have to clean it up, I’d punch this asshole in the teeth.

  I just want him gone. And with no reason to roll up on Ashley’s house. The way she talked, she’d be there home alone. That thought sends another wave of magma coursing through me, and I don’t know if I can hold back, or why I react the way I do.

  Shit. Ashley is a grown-ass girl, and Snake’s only trying to get a rise from me. He doesn’t have the balls to drive up to a house on the South end and ask for money.

  “You want more than one, Joel’s upfront. Why don’t you ask him?”

  I grin when Snake backs up to the entrance from the back storage room door. He doesn’t even have the balls to ask Joel for a freebie.

  My girl is safe.

  I kick the back of the dolly and push the keg to the loading area before the intent of my words fully hits me.

  My girl.

  Ash isn’t mine. I don’t want her to be. I just don’t want Snake anywhere around her.

  “You gonna help or watch me do it all?” I throw out over my shoulder, waiting for Snake to pull his van up so I can load it.

  “Just answering a text,” he responds.

  “Who the hell would text you?” I’m joking. Everyone on the North end has Snake’s number for the same reasons I used to. Anything you need, he can get it.

  He laughs. “That pretty young thing from the other night. I invited her to the fire.”

  My blood turns from hot to cold, and every muscle in my body seizes. “Ashley,” I manage out of tight lips.

  “Yeah. That one. She looked like she could use a little loosening up.”

  My jaw grates into my ears.

  “That’s not a problem, is it. You weren’t’ thinking of making a claim?”

  “No,” I grind out. Ashley won’t get messed up with a guy like Snake. She’s too smart for that. Why do I even care? I toss the keg in his van and slam the doors. “Do whatever you want.”

  When I make it back to the top of the loading ramp, Snake is already at the driver’s door. He tosses a look back at me. “You coming tonight?”

  “I gotta work.” While the tips are this good, I can’t pass up even one night at the bar. The way things are going, I’ll be out of town in months.

  I can’t fuck that up over a girl.

  Ash

  It’s too hot for a sweatshirt, but when I’m uncomfortable in social settings, I like the comfort of being covered. It’s a stupid coping mechanism. Kate teased me relentlessly about it freshman year when I refused to take my coat off the whole first semester.

  But a bonfire on the Northside is as far out of my comfort zone as a trip to Mars would be so, sweatshirt and jeans it is.

  I’m early and snag a space near the road facing out. If I need to leave first, it won’t be awkward this way. I’m also facing the bar this way. Cole’s bar.

  When the text came through asking me to come tonight, I’d thought he’d sent it. As I read over the words, my heart pounds inside my chest and my cheeks burn so hot I’m afraid they’d permanently scald my skin. But when I’d put Cole’s number into my phone a week ago I’d added his name to my contacts list and other than his did you make it alright, I’d heard nothing else.

  Bonfire on the beach. 10 pm. Come. Snake.

  I glanced from the message on my phone to down the beach. Cole hadn’t sent the text, but someone in my puzzled brain I’d hoped he’d sent it for Cole.

  The sun is just setting, and a few hundred yards down the beach, I spot Snake’s lengthy frame in board shorts and nothing else hauling wood from the back of his van. His chest and arms are covered in ink, and I wonder if Cole looks the same. Snake’s hair is longer, and tonight he has is parted on one side and the length hanging down the other. It’s hard to make out from the distance between us but I swear his eyes are darker like he’s wearing eyeliner, and his fingernails are black.

  I could offer to help like Baby carrying the watermelon in that Dirty Dancing scene that introduces her to Patrick Swayze, but that scene didn’t work out so well for Baby, and I’m sure offering to help carry wood wouldn’t work out for me either.

  Besides, Snake isn’t Patrick Swayze, and carrying wood isn’t going to catch Cole’s attention if he’s not even on the beach.

  I tuck my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, settling my chin on top. Why’d I think coming tonight was a good idea? North Beach is so far out of my league.

  Or, maybe that’s my whole reason for coming. An adventure. And exploration. Somewhere deep in my brain, a place I try to never go opens, and I hear Kate telling me to loosen up and explore the world. Seek something different. Accept the unaccepted.

 

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