Chapter 3

Kayla

We burst through the pizzeria doors, nearly doubled over with laughter. The umbrella blew inside out the second we stepped into the torrent and we're soaked again. As the workers are shocked to see any customers on an evening like this, Liam grabs a bunch of napkins and begins dabbing at my face. He laughs as he pulls another pine needle from my hair.

With my face growing red from the way he's looking at me, I lower my eyes to his chest, just about right in front of me. Wide and broad, with his shirt clinging to his pecs, I'm not at all cold under the blast of the air conditioning. Too hot, almost.

Is this real or did I hit my head harder than I thought in the accident? Am I passed out in the ditch, dreaming about Liam Chase, my lifelong crush, wringing out my hair with paper napkins?

The pizza chef sticks his head over the counter dividing the kitchen from the restaurant and calls a greeting to Liam, then peers at me curiously before coming around to the front.

"You and the other girl were in here all the time for a while a few years back. It's great to see an old regular again."

Liam claps his arm around me. "I just rescued her from the storm." He turns to look down at me. "What put you in the ditch in the first place?"

I'm so stunned by the fact I'm pressed against his side, all his body heat seeping through my wet clothes that I stutter out the answer.

He lets me go and they talk about how dangerous deer can be while Liam orders. I realize I'm staring at Liam with my mouth open when the chef asks me what I want to drink and I jerk my gaze away to answer.

Another employee brings us a pile of kitchen towels and we get as dry as we can while we wait at a corner table, tucked behind an old pinball machine. I must look like roadkill, frizzy and damp, but I'm strangely not concerned. Not with the way Liam's been looking at me, like he's been hungering for me for a long time and at any moment he'll pounce. That look alone is keeping me warm.

I shrug inward, remembering the empty state of his fridge. He's probably just hungry. There's not going to be any pouncing no matter how hard I wish for it.

"You live behind your work?" I ask, because staring at him in awe is about to get awkward.

He nods. "It's my place."

"The garage? The tow company, too?"

He makes an inscrutable face. "Yeah. If you can call one truck a company."

"You'd need at least one, right?"

For some reason he smiles as if I've said something hilarious and pulls yet another needle from my hair.

"Oh my God, do I have the whole tree up there?" I run my fingers furiously through my tangles, cheeks burning.

"I like seeing you like this. I remember you always being so—"

Don't say it. Please, don't.

If he says perfect, I might scream. All my life it's been drilled into me to never step out of line, never have a hair out of place, never give less than my best.

Always be perfect.

I used to cry myself to sleep at night because I could never quite attain it. I ran out of tears a couple years ago, but I'm still striving to reach that elusive pinnacle even though it makes me miserable.

He shrugs, seeming to read my mind, not finishing the sentence. I get back to his business and that sweet and cozy house I wish I could see more of.

"A house and a company already?" I say, almost to myself. "That's great."

Instead of taking my compliment the way I meant it, he frowns. "Come on, Kayla. It's not that big of a deal."

"Well, considering you're basically living my dream, it is to me."

His eyes widen. "Having a tow truck is your dream?"

"No, silly," I say, reaching out to lightly slap his arm, right on the edge of one of his many tattoos. I want to trace the outline but thankfully don't embarrass myself. It almost spills out of me, what I really want out of life, but what's the point?

"What did you end up majoring in?" he asks.

"Business administration," I say with the forced enthusiasm I've got down to a science.

"Why?" His brows shoot together and he's got me pinned with his amber stare.

"Uh, because… well, why not?"

"You clearly hate it."

Wait, what? He saw through my carefully crafted front? The one I've been holding up since my dad decided that was the most useful degree to get into his own firm one day?

"I…" I can't pretend anymore. "I do hate it," I admit, and we both laugh.

The server brings us our food, but is back by the counter when Liam calls to him that he forgot the red pepper flakes. The high school kid grins and wraps a few packets in a napkin and gets in a throwing stance. Liam jumps up and catches it as it wings toward us.

"How come you stopped playing football?" I ask, remembering how talented he was.

"How'd you even know I played? You were still in middle school when I was on the team."

Since I can't admit I used to have a massive crush on him, I throw Lily under the bus. "My best friend is obsessed with sports and used to make me go to all the games, even junior varsity ones." Only the JV ones, and only because you were the quarterback and I could stare at you running like a god without anyone noticing . "You were really good. Everyone said so. You probably would have been a star if you kept going."

"My dad got sick the summer before my sophomore year. I had to help out around the garage. He passed away right before I graduated."

I will him to look up, but he's focused on his pizza slice. "I'm really sorry." With all my stalking I never knew something so important. I put my hand over his and he turns it so our palms touch.

"I wanted to drop out and work. School seemed like a waste of time and I was determined not to have to close the shop. But he was just as determined to see me graduate." His fingers curl around mine, his eyes still cast down. "I was so pissed off when he went two weeks before the ceremony that I almost skipped it. But…"

"He was there. He knew," I fill in when he pauses.

His slow smile melts me and he squeezes my hand. "Yeah, I think so too. I sold our old place and got the truck, and I do some repairs at my place now, too. It's still a grind to stay ahead but I do all right."

"That's really amazing," I tell him. "It's probably not so bad because it's what you really want, right?" For some reason I have to know that Liam is happy. That someone in this world can live the life they want.

"Sure, I guess. I've always loved helping people and fixing things. Banging out dents." He pauses, pulling his hand away as if he's just realized we're still holding onto each other. I try not to look as disappointed as I feel. "What? What's that face for?"

"I'm just really glad everything came together for you. I'm glad you were the one who got me out of the ditch." If only he could get me out of the bigger ditch that is my life. But that chasm is probably impassable and I'm in too deep.

We get caught in each other's eyes for a moment that I wouldn't mind lasting longer, but he nudges my plate. "Eat up and then I'll show you how to play this game." He reaches around and taps the pinball machine.

"As if you can teach me anything about that," I scoff. "I used to have a high score on that thing."

"We'll see." He gets up to refill our drinks and I remember I still haven't let my parents know I got sidelined. I don't want my mom to worry but I really don't want my dad to get on the phone and order me to get my butt home. As if he can even control the weather. I glance gratefully at the rain outside and text my mom that I'm fine, just had to get towed into town and will get a ride as soon as the storm lets up.

With that weight off my shoulders, I put my phone away so I don't notice when she answers me with more questions. Liam and I scarf down our pizza and then we pool our cash to get a bunch of quarters. It's time to settle who's better at the Monster Island pinball game that's been here as long as I remember.

We both play a side and end up bumping into each other as we furiously send the metal ball pinging up and down the board. He wins three in a row, but I come back with a vengeance for the next two. We're jumping up and down, high fiving each other, and cracking up as we shit-talk each other.

"Hey," he says before we start up another game. He turns me to face him and rests his hands on my shoulders. His eyes are shining and I lean closer. Looking up at him, all I can feel is the happiness of the moment. I'm having fun. Real fun, no striving necessary.

"What?" I asked, shaken by my realization. I don't want this evening to end.

"Let's stop competing against each other and wipe the top scores." He points to the scoreboard and the top three places are taken by the same initials. "I've seen the kid in here and he's a real demon."

"You want to beat a little kid's hard work?" I ask, biting my lip to keep from laughing.

He nods. "That kid, yeah. And then I'm going to come in here on one of the days he's terrorizing the place and watch his smug little face fall."

"You're awful," I say, but the laughter breaks free.

"You'll have to come with me. You'll see it's a righteous victory."

I solemnly drop in a quarter. "Let's do this, then."

It doesn't take much to get second and third place, but we have to go back for more quarters to keep fighting for first. We stand next to each other like we're on the frontlines, facing an enemy together. When we surpass first place by over a hundred points, we holler and fling ourselves together with abandon.

Liam's arms tighten around my waist and he lifts me off the floor as I curl my arms around his neck. Before I know what's happening his mouth crashes against mine. It's a bit frantic at first. We really got way too worked up over that dumb game. Or maybe it was all heading toward this and that's what fueled us.

I let my lips part and his tongue brushes against mine. My heart hammers and my mind reels.

Liam Chase is kissing me.

He slides me down his body until my feet touch the floor again. It's strangely quiet now. The rain has stopped. We both turn to the window, then back to each other.

"That was amazing," he says.

"We beat him," I agree. "Totally crushed him."

His smile makes me glad he's still holding onto me because my knees go weak. "That too," he says. His hands slide away from my waist, leaving a tingly warmth behind. "I guess you have places to go?"

"I should probably get home."

We walk slowly back to his place and he drives me to my house without much more conversation. It's comfortable, though. Cozy. I should be dying to get out of my damp clothes, but I'd sit in this truck with him forever, just like we are now.

He pulls into my long, curving driveway and I stop him before he gets all the way to the door. I don't need my father running out to make sure I'm okay. Or rather, that I'm acting the way I should.

Because I haven't been acting the way I should for the past few hours and I've never been happier.

"I want to see you again," Liam says before I open the door.

This should be something I put a firm lid on, cram my crush back into its secret corners like I did once before. I should say no, that's not possible.

"I want to see you again, too," I say instead.