Chapter 52

I took the ball from his hand. “If I don’t break it, I’m going to be really embarrassed.”

“You’ll break it.”

I angled my body slightly, stepped, then threw. The windshield shattered with a satisfying crack. I smiled. “That was awesome!”

“So cathartic, right?” Bec asked.

“Yes.” I let out a happy sigh.

Bec picked up a few balls from the ground. “I’ll go play fetch with the dogs for a little bit. Be right back.”

Hayden started picking up the balls, throwing them back into the bucket. I helped him. “You guys do this a lot?”

“Not really.” The amount of broken or cracked windows on the surrounding cars seemed to say the opposite.

“Did he recently bring that car in?” I asked, pointing to an equally rusty but completely free-of-damage car that sat by a tree across the yard.

“No. We don’t touch that one. It’s a ’68 Camaro. I’ve been trying to convince Will to sell it to me since we started coming here, but as you saw, he’s kind of a grumpy old man set in his ways.”

“But I thought Bec said he liked money.”

“She was kidding. I think what he really likes is visitors. Come on, you should see this car.”

Hayden headed toward the car and I followed. “This car is pretty far gone. It would take a lot to restore it anyway.”

One side window was rolled down and the interior was filled with dried leaves, the seats were ripped, their rusty springs visible. It didn’t stop Hayden from grabbing hold of the roof and swinging himself in, feetfirst, through the window. He rested his wrist on top of the steering wheel and put on a model-like expression: squinty eyes, slightly parted lips. “What do you think?”

I laughed. “It looks good on you.”

“I agree. Care to join me?”

The passenger seat seemed even dirtier than the one he sat on. He must’ve seen my hesitation because he reached out and grabbed for me. I jumped back with a squeal. He dropped his hand, patting the outside of the door like it was a beloved pet. I surprised myself by walking forward, and climbing in through the window, headfirst, right over the top of him. He let out a laugh and helped me through. It was a tight squeeze with him sitting in my way, and my hips brushed against his chest and the steering wheel. My pants snagged on something and I was jerked to a halt, my hands on the passenger seat, my feet still out the window.

“I’m stuck,” I said.

“Yeah, you are.” His voice contained a smile.

“Help me.”

He laughed. “But I’m kind of enjoying this.”

“If I weren’t using my hands, I’d beat you right now.” I tried to pull my leg forward again and was greeted with a ripping sound.

Hayden laughed but then I felt him reaching for my ankle, where it seemed the problem was. “It’s stuck on the lock. Let me try to unhook it.”

My arms were starting to shake from holding myself up.

“Got it,” Hayden said, and tugged my leg free, sending me jolting forward and face-planting into the seat.

“Ouch.”

“Oh no. I’m so sorry.”

My legs were draped across his lap, my arms stuck beneath me. The stick shift had bruised my side for sure. I carefully rolled to my right, toward the seat, and he helped me sit up.

“You okay?” He took in my face.

“I’m fine.” I rubbed my hands over my face, sure it was covered in dirt. He picked a leaf out of my hair. “I’m good,” I assured him with an embarrassed laugh.

“That was really graceful.”

I hit his arm and he pretended it hurt.

“Well, I hope this was worth all that,” he said, a smile on his face.

I glanced around at the dirty interior that looked even worse up close. “Yeah, not really,” I said with my own smirk.

He leaned back against his seat then reached over and took my hand in his. Okay, so maybe it was worth it.

“How did your Odd Couple scene go today in class?”

“Really good. Thanks for your help yesterday.”

“You didn’t need my help.”

“I need your help.” The way he said it made it sound like we were no longer talking about practicing lines for a play.

Maybe he wasn’t. “What demons were you working out today?” I nodded my head toward the car we had battered.

“Ones that should already be worked out,” he said vaguely.

I wondered if he was referring to Eve, but there was no way I was going to bring up her name just in case he wasn’t. Not when he was holding my hand of his own free will and not because we were pretending for anyone.

“Do you ever wonder if who you pick as friends says something about who you are?”

So he wasn’t referring to Eve. He was referring to Ryan, who had betrayed him with her. Or maybe he was referring to the fact that he was lonely in his group, an outsider. I thought about his question, thought about my friends and what that might say about me. I even thought about how Bec’s friend had accused me of being mean because of something mea had said. “Are you talking about Ryan?”

“I’m talking about a lot of things, but yes, he was my friend.”

“It was his choice. You can’t control what he does. His choice says nothing about you.”

“But doesn’t it? He was willing to turn his back on a lifelong friendship for a girl. Shouldn’t I have seen that coming?”