Page 4

I check my phone and notice I have a string of text messages from my mom.

Mom: Aruba is great, I cannot believe the cruise is almost over! I have made so many friends !! I’m telling you, we need to go on a cruise together.

Mom: Did you see the kangaroo video I sent you on tictac ???

Mom: I think it’s a sign I need to go to Australia next.

Mom: Leave the dead behind and come take a trip with your mom !!

I shake my head at her text messages but smile. I love my mom, and I’m so happy she’s living her best life. But a part of me hates that she’s never in one place for too long. I miss her.

I throw my phone on the passenger seat, telling myself I’ll reply to her later.

Kill me.

I try turning the key once more, and the engine sputters. Nothing.

I groan.

What are the fucking odds? Is this karma for the pseudo-theft I committed?

This day has officially gone from frustrating to unbearable. I pray to the gods that the stranger is long gone. For some reason, a broken-down car is more embarrassing to me than getting caught stealing.

I roll down the window for some fresh air and consider my options. I don’t want to deal with a mechanic. I just want to go home to my cat. I try turning the key again, but still nothing.

“Piece of shit.” I smack the steering wheel with my hand.

“Do you need help?”

His voice is far too close. I sigh. Of course he’s still here. And I can tell he’s amused before I even look at him. It’s just my luck that he hasn’t left yet.

This confirms my long-standing suspicion that when one bad thing happens to me, it’s followed by a string of unlucky events.

I keep my gaze firmly on the ignition as I say, “No. It’s okay. I’ll figure it out.”

“I can look at it for you if you’d like. I know a thing or two about cars.”

Of course he does.

I consider his offer. I’m embarrassed, but what are my other options? It’s slowly getting dark, and I don’t want to be stranded here. And under no circumstances do I want to go back inside. Once I clock out, I’m allergic to stepping back inside my place of employment. Plus, he doesn’t look like a serial killer.

A warm smile welcomes me as I finally meet his eyes.

“Yes, thanks, that would be great.” I pull the lever to pop the hood and reluctantly slip on my heels. As I get out of the car, I add, “Just so you know, I have pepper spray.”

That makes him chuckle. “Good to know.”

He hands his helmet over for me to hold as he steps around the car to look under the hood. I study him quietly as he examines my car. He starts to touch a variety of things underneath my hood with swift fingers. I have absolutely no knowledge of cars. I’m happy when I manage to pump my own gas. His focus completely on the task in front of him, I allow myself to stare at him once again. Something about this man working on my car is unfortunately really doing it for me. What’s wrong with me today? I blame it on my lack of sleep the previous night, and my embarrassment from ten minutes ago.

I’m pulled out of my daze when he suddenly looks up and catches me staring.

“It looks like the serpentine belt snapped.”

“And you can tell by just looking?”

“Yes, look. It’s easy to spot.”

I step next to him and try to see what he’s pointing at, but I don’t know what it’s supposed to look like. “You’re sure?”