Page 19 of The Other Guy

Steam billows out from the muffler of my idling Jeep and I can hear the music Sierra is listening to while I freak out.

As soon as I’m back inside, I look behind me, check the mirrors for good measure, and do a u-turn in the highway and head back the way we came.

Sierra doesn’t ask questions.

Doesn’t smirk or make a single comment.

Just hums along to Kane Brown sing about What Ifs.

What if.

Yeah. That sounds about right.

My phone buzzes in the cup holder and both our attention flies to it.

“Oh my gosh, please let me look!”

“What if it’s personal?”

The look she gives me makes me chuckle.

“What? I could have a personal life.”

“Mm hmm. You could but you don’t.”

“How do you know?”

“We established this already last night, Jack. Anyway, let me look! Please, oh please! I’ve been sitting here so good and quiet and never said a single thing while you were freaking out over there after realizing that you think I’m hot stuff and are bummed that I have a boyfriend.”

“You just did.”

“I know but seriously how was I expected to hold that all in? I mean, come on! That took like all of my willpower. Do you realize that? All of it was used up on biting my tongue. Literally biting it!” She sticks it out and then slurs, “Thee? Ith thwollen becathe of you!”

“You could have put your tongue back in your mouth to tell me that.”

She does and then says, “It wouldn’t have been nearly as effective though, now would it?”

“Probably not.”

“So do I get a gold star for holding all my words in?”

“Sure. I’ll even take you for breakfast.”

She’s shaking her head rapidly then pins me with those green eyes that are so damn intriguing. “I don’t want breakfast. I had pancakes and bacon this morning with Uncle Kyle.” Called it. “And now I’m hungry for ice cream. You promised. Don’t be a liar, Jack. No one likes a liar.”

“Fine. You relentless goober.”

She shimmies a little in her seat, pleased that she’s getting her own way. Of course she is. She demands it, but in the least obnoxious way. Doesn’t even react to me calling her relentless or a goober. Just smiles that smile that shows her teeth and makes her nose crinkle. “Thank you.”

“There’s this great place that you can get almost anything mixed into the ice cream. I’m not sure if it will be open yet, but it’s the best in town.”

“Perfect. They’ll be open.” She nods her head once, resolutely. Like if she wills it into the universe, it will happen.

I lean an elbow against the door, my left hand holding the steering wheel with only two fingers. Relaxed. Casual. That’s how I feel around her. More so than I have in a long time, actually. “How are you so sure?”

“Because why wouldn’t they be?” Why wouldn’t they be indeed. She sounds genuinely confused by my question. As if my suggesting any other possibility than the ice cream shop being open first thing in the morning is blasphemy.

This girl. She’s something else.

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