Page 36 of After All This Time

"She was a nice girl, but I'm just not feeling it at the moment."

"Are you okay?" she asks, voice pitched like I'm about to drop dead. Before I can answer, she starts fanning me with her other hand, like she's trying to revive me from some tragic state.

I stare at her flatly. "I'm fine. Just… in a rut."

"A sex rut?" Only Lola would ask that with zero shame.

"Something like that."

"You should check out the Devil's Lair with Levi. You know, pay someone to give you a little spark; maybe throw in a match or two if you need a bigger fire."

"Yeah, I'm not quite that desperate yet, but thanks for the suggestion."

She laughs, and I gather my things, needing to head out to meet Gerry, an old friend of mine who buys beat-up cars, works his magic, and sells them for a living.

"She was my last for today," I say, slinging my bag over my shoulder and reaching for my keys. "You good if I take off? I've got to pick up a car for Amelia."

I saw Amelia's message earlier, and within ten minutes of me putting it out there on my socials, my DMs were flooded—friends, friends of friends, and a fair share of strangers, all offering up cars they were trying to unload.

I got everything from "lightly used" hatchbacks to rust buckets that looked like they'd roll into dust if I so much as sneezed near them. But in the end, it was Gerry who came through. He said he'd cut me a deal and make it worth my while.

Mills transferred the money her mom sent over, and I told her I'd swing by to pick it up on my way home, and we could grab my car later. I figured I'd save her the hassle of navigating Gerry's charm, which is basically one part used-car salesman, one part stand-up comic who thinks he's funnier than he is.

Her message this morning was the first I'd heard from her since I made things weird between us last night.

I let myself feel things I have absolutely no right to feel and don't even remotely understand.

I've been trying to bury it, shoving it into the furthest, darkest corners of my mind where other weird shit lives. Like that time I let a teacher blow me after class, or the night I got kicked out of a threesome because the girls decided they didn't need a cock getting in the way.

But the way Amelia's dark eyes held mine—so fucking steady as if she was searching for something I really didn't want to show her—threw me off.

She's either brushing it off entirely this morning or deliberately pretending it never happened. I can't tell which, and I'm not sure if that makes it better or worse.

It's easier this way, though.

Mills and I don't mess with boundaries, and we sure as shit don't do weird energy.

So yeah, I'll treat it like nothing. Because that's all it can ever be. A momentary slip, an almost, a what if that dies before it has a chance to live.

A hour and a half later, after dropping my car at home, I'm in the passenger seat next to Amelia as she drives us around, herplaylist blasting from the speakers loud enough to drown out everything else. Then Blink-182's "All the Small Things" kicks in—our song since forever. Her whole face lights up as soon as the beat hits, like someone just turned the lights on inside her, and she's headbanging along, hair flying like she's at her own personal concert. I join in, whipping out my air guitar, and we sing out every word—off-key, probably painful for anyone else within earshot, but we couldn't care less.

It's us. Chaotic. Loud. Messy. Perfect.

For those two minutes and forty-eight seconds, the world narrows down to this car, this song, and this moment.

This is home. This is everything.

But music fades. And feelings don't.

It's the same feeling from last night, creeping in like it's been lying in wait somewhere deep, just waiting for the right moment to jump me. It's this silent urge tugging at me, and for a split second, I forget who we are to each other and why this should feel wrong.

I watch her, maybe a second too long, taking in the way her lips curve with the last traces of laughter and the way her eyes shine with pure happiness. She senses me looking, and when her eyes finally meet mine, her laughter dies.

"What?" Her voice breaks through the quiet, searching for an answer I've got no intention of giving.

"Do you ever think it's time for us to get a new song?" I say, grasping for anything to change the subject.

"Never!" she exclaims, her jaw dropping and eyes widening.

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