7. Chapter 6

As grateful as I am that Josh is here, he's the last person I want to find me. It's not the first time I've run out of gas, and if that is why my car stopped, he's going to badger me about it forever.

"What happened?" He asks, heading over to look under the hood. He makes sure that none of the wires are loose.

"It just started sputtering and then died." He looks at me with a smirk on his face.

"Hmmmm…sputtering? Sounds like you ran out of gas," he says, laughter bubbles up as he gets a teasing glint in his eyes.

"Owens, I just told you that the gas gauge says there is a half tank. Look at it for yourself." He walks over to the driver"s side, opens the doors and sits down. He looks ridiculous all crunched up in the seat. He's a good foot taller than me, and needs to pull the lever to move the seat all the way back to accommodate his size.

"It appears that you do indeed have a half tank of gas left." I cross my arms over my chest and raise my eyebrow at him as if to say ‘told you so'. He then turns the key in the ignition. It makes the clicking noise like it wants to start but the engine doesn't turn over.

Josh gets out of the car, closes the door and leans against the side. He looks at me with a smirk I want to smack right off of his face. The glint in his eyes tells me he thinks I'm out of gas, and he's holding back the desire to laugh at me.

As I gaze back at him my mouth goes dry, and my heart starts to beat faster. The video posted on Tea Time pops into my head and replays in my mind. Josh leaning toward me, the look on my face as he does. My stomach flutters. I take a deep breath and look away.

"I'm not out of gas, Owens," I say, trying to diffuse the tension that I feel standing here with him. Josh, with his six foot three frame, broad shoulders, and smile with a dimple is no doubt an attractive guy. Some would even say gorgeous. It's not that I haven't ever noticed, it's just that he's always annoying me so much that I overlook it. Today, however, I am fully aware of how attractive he is in a way I haven't been before and it's making me uncomfortable.

"So you've said," he retorts, that dimple on his left cheek making a full appearance.

"How's your shoulder?" I ask, his smirk falls from his face and I see worry replace the carefree glint. "That bad?"

"We don't know yet, but everyone is afraid it's more than a strain or sprain." He runs his hand through his hair and sighs. "I'm a bit worried about it actually."

"I'm sorry, Josh. That's a bummer." He shrugs.

"Injuries are part of the game," he says flippantly as he unconsciously puts his hand on his left shoulder and gently massages it.

I know he's not telling me everything, and I can tell that he's more worried than he's letting on. What I don't understand is the sense of dread he seems to have. Shoulder injuries can be bad for a receiver, yes, but are usually not career ending.

"Why are you so worried about this? Shoulder injuries don't usually end careers," I ask out loud what I was thinking.

"No, but it could potentially mean that the Mavs won't extend my contract and I end up playing somewhere else next year."

My stomach swirls and my heart sinks. I've never even considered Josh not being around. I completely forgot that this was a contract year for him.

"You think the Mavs won't renew your contract?"

"I'm not sure. I could completely be overreacting, but the fact that they haven't contacted my agent yet to talk numbers is disconcerting. And now this." He places his hand on his shoulder before dropping it to his side.

"I'm sure it will all work out. You're too good of a player. Your stats for this year are already better than last." The glint in his eye is back.

"You pay attention to my stats, Woodbury?" A smile spreads across his face, and I feel heat creeping up mine. I try not to let Josh know exactly how closely I follow his career but the cat's out of the bag now—all because I felt bad for him.

"Don't get too excited, Owens. You know me and my numbers. I can tell you the stats of every player on the team." Did I just imagine the light in his eyes dim?

"Oh, I know," he says with a grin. "You and your math skills. They have always been impressive. I just didn't know that you focused them on me." And that mischievous glint is back in full force. I smack him on his shoulder, and when he winces I cringe.

"I'm so sorry, Josh. Are you okay?" I move closer to him as I gingerly touch his shoulder trying to take back the smack. I mentally chastise myself for hurting him.

"I'm fine, Brie. Your little girl strength can't hurt me." I know that he's teasing and trying to make me feel better after hurting him. It's something he's done ever since I've known him.

I meet his eyes and there is an intensity that has my stomach swooping. Suddenly I realize my hand is still resting on his shoulder and his hand is placed on top of mine. I abruptly pull mine back.

"I'm glad to hear that, Owens. For a second I thought you had gone soft." He chuckles at me but it's not the usual teasing, something is different.

"Soooo. Did you see Tea Time today?" I want to slap my palm to my forehead, my goal was to change the topic to something that would get rid of this tension. Instead I bring up the one thing that could possibly cause more tension.

"Are you joking? Susie sent that to me first thing this morning. My team is already on my case about it. Don't worry, I'm going to make sure that everyone knows it's nothing," he says, his brown eyes soft as they hold mine. "I'm so sorry that you got dragged into the media circus of my life. I never meant for that to happen."

"It's been an experience, that's for sure. Is being stared at wherever you go and people whispering about you normal?" I ask, thinking about everyone in Thanks-A-Latte and at school. A few of my fellow teachers asked me about it outright, but others just got quiet whenever I walked by. It was funny and yet annoying.

Josh is about to say something when Bill's truck pulls up.

"And so we meet again, Brie," Bill jokes. "Did you run out of gas?" Bill is an older man, with white hair and a beard. He's wearing his usual jean overalls with a rag hanging out of his back pocket and a Carhartt hat on his head.

"No," I protest while Josh laughs. "My gas gauge says that I have half a tank left."

Bill's smile stretches from ear to ear. I hate that they all have a reason to look at me like that. It's not the first time I've been in this situation. "Let's see if we can figure out what's going on, shall we? Can you pop the gas cover?"

Josh, who is still leaning on the driver's door, takes it upon himself to do it.

We both watch as Bill puts gas in the tank. I hold my breath, praying that this doesn't work. If it does, #Briosh isn't the only thing people will be teasing me about.

"Okay," Bill says, "Want to try starting it?"

Josh looks at me with a smirk, steps away from the driver's door and gestures his hand in a sweeping motion. I glare at him as I get in the seat and pull the lever to bring the seat forward, then turn the key. The engine turns over and Josh bursts out laughing.

"Okay, Brie. Can you get out of the car for a second," Bill instructs me. I get out and he gets in. I look at Josh. He doesn't look at me, but I can see him pressing his lips together to hold back the smile that is trying to split his face.

"Yup, it definitely says that you have a half tank of gas," Bill confirms. "You need to replace your gas gauge."

"Do you have an idea of how much that will cost?" Hoping it doesn't put a dent in my savings.

"I'd have to double check, but it could be anywhere from eleven hundred to thirteen hundred dollars."

"WHAT?" I exclaim. Not a dent, but my entire savings.

"Volkswagen parts are pretty costly, but I'll check around with some of the local junkyards to see if I can find a used part," Bill puts out there.

"That would be great Bill. Thank you. When do you think you"ll be able to fix it?" I'm getting this fixed as soon as possible if only to avoid Josh being able to make fun of me again.

"I can do it any time over the next few days. Just bring it down first thing in the morning." He picks up the gas container and screws the top back on.

"That would be great. I will see you first thing tomorrow morning."

"You got it." Bill tips his baseball cap in my direction.

"Well looks like you're all set, Woodbury. I'm gonna get back to my run. See you later, Bill."

"Bye, second part of hashtag Briosh," Bill says as he walks back to his truck. Both Josh and I watch him walk away with our mouths agape. When he looks at us from his truck he has an amused grin on his face. He waves at us as he drives off and heads back to his shop.

Josh chuckles, shakes his head, then gives me a salute as he takes off again on his run. I watch him for a second as I try to get control of all the emotions filling me.

What is happening right now? Why am I having these reactions to Josh?

I inhale deeply and slowly exhale. I get in my car and drive down the street and make a left back toward town. As I look once more at Josh running down the street, I can't help but wonder why him making sure everyone knows #Briosh isn"t a thing has me feeling more disappointed than relieved.