Page 39 of Off the Wall

That’swhy I saw his face in the mirror. I was just experiencing a premonition. Some kind of reverse déjà vu. A tiny psychic slip. These things happen to people all the time, right? Tototally normalpeople. I wasn’tactuallypicturing Cash in the mirror again. Ican’tpicture him in my mirror.

Again.

Another knock.

I haul open the door, and Cash flashes the same smile I just saw reflected above my head.

My heart skips a beat. Two beats. Three.

“I can’t date you,” I blurt.

“Well, that’s good.” His mouth goes crooked. “Because I don’t remember asking.”

Chapter Twelve

Cash

“Oh!”Nori makes a strangled sound like she’s choking on her own spit. “I didn’t … You didn’t … That’s not what I meant …” Her cheeks flush pink. “Clearly you … you weren’t asking me out,” she stammers. “I was just in the middle of something, and I said the wrong thing.”

“Makes total sense.” I offer her a smile. I’ve got no idea what Nori was in the middle of, but she’s got enough on her plate, and I don’t want to add embarrassment to the menu. “My afternoon case canceled,” I tell her, “and I remembered today was your day off. I figured you could take my bike out for a test ride.”

“Right. Good. Yes.” Nori’s head bobs like a pigeon’s. “Bike riding. Of course.”

I arch a brow. “So is now a good time?”

She looks down at her feet, which are currently stuck in fuzzy socks. “I just need to grab some shoes.” She slams the door in my face, then returns a minute later wearing a pair of gleaming white Vans. “Not exactly bike shoes.”

“Yeah, well.” I chuckle. “We’re not exactly training for theTour de France.” I nod to indicate the staircase. “We just have to grab my bike out of storage.”

“Great.” Nori gulps. “Let’s go do that thing. With the bike. Now. Before I change my mind.” She starts down the hall at a pace that suggests she might actually be in a race. I follow her down four flights of stairs and into the basement, where we proceed to pick our way around my crowded storage unit.

There’s an old foosball table from when I was in high school. Next to that is a saggy bean bag chair I inherited in college and a pull-out futon I bought for my first apartment. I haven’t used any of this stuff in years, but I can’t seem to get rid of anything either. They’re remnants of a time when I thought anything was possible.

I guess my heart still wants to believe that.

When we reach the bike, Nori places a hand on the leather saddle and checks out the frame. The carbon fiber is fire-engine red, and lightweight. She runs her hand along the leather of the barely used seat. “Does your bike have a name?” she asks.

“A name?”

“You know. Like Dorothy,”

A smile sneaks onto my face. “Surprisingly enough, I haven’t had a chance to come up with a name yet.”

“Well, we should,” she says. “That way I can show my respect properly.”

“Right.” While I find Nori’s desire to connect with my bike … adorable … she’s also clearly self-conscious about her cycling skills. So a part of her could be stalling, and she might not even know it. “How about we see if the size works for you first,” I say, figuring it’s best to take this process step by step for her. “Then we can worry about a name.”

She looks up at me, her brows pulling in. “I’ve got to behonest. I’m starting to rethink this whole me-borrowing-your-bike idea.”

“You’ll do great,” I tell her, even though I’m not sure that’s actually true. “And I’ll be by your side the entire time. I’ll make sure you’re safe.” Now, this Icanpromise.

“I’m not so much worried about safety as I am about looking ridiculous in front of everyone. I mean, what grown adult can’t ride a bike?”

“You won’t be in front of everyone.” I hitch my shoulders. “You’ll just be in front of me.”

She pushes out a small snort-laugh. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“Heh.” I drag a hand along the back of my neck. “What if I promise to keep one eye closed?”

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