Page 35 of Get Me to the Starting Line

I watch them go with my hands clasped tightly together, loneliness I was trying not to be aware of settling over me. This feeling has been hitting me a lot lately. I don’t like it.

Leah stomps out of the bathroom looking furious. Oh shit, what did I do now?

She holds up her phone. “Apparently, you’re giving me a ride home.”

“W-What?”

“Paige was my ride, but since she and Adam can’t seem to stop banging every five minutes, they left me here. She just texted to say sorry and you’d give me a ride.”

My mind goes blank. At least she’s not pissed with me. She taps violently on her phone, and I fail to suppress my smile. I’m so glad I’m not on the receiving end of those texts.

She glances at me. “What are you smirking at? You think this is funny.”

I shrug a shoulder. “You said ‘banging.’ People don’t say that a lot anymore.”

“You’re a child.” There’s only a hint of frustration in her insult, so I don’t take it seriously.

She puts the phone to her ear. Paige is definitely not going to answer. I’m proven wrong when I hear her voice. Until Leah speaks, that is.

“I need a taxi,” she says, giving the service the name and address of the restaurant.

Before I think too much about it, I pluck the phone from her hand, grazing her skin. A jolt of electricity washes over me, sending shivers down my spine.

“What the hell?”

“Paige said I’m giving you a ride.”

“Yeah, well, Paige isn’t my boss and neither are you.” She stretches to reach the phone, but I hold it behind my back. She’s clearlynot comfortable reaching around me to get it, so it’s safe. I am not, however, because even though she’s not touching me, she’s close. Too close.

“Let me give you a ride,” I insist, trying to make my voice as nice as possible. There’s no way she can take that poorly. There’s a beat of silence as she scowls before her shoulders slump in defeat.

“Your mother raised you a gentleman, didn’t she?” she says, putting one hand on her hip and extending the other to me. I place her phone in her open palm.

Without thinking I blurt, “I was raised by my dad.”

She straightens, caught unaware by my confession. That makes two of us.

“Oh, um ... Sorry,” she says, discomfort written all over her face.

Without answering, I hold the door open in a clear invitation for her to exit. She stares at me as she walks through, but I can’t read her face anymore. I know there’s no anger anymore though. She may have a short temper, but she also settles fairly easily.

I didn’t park too far away so it’s a short walk from the restaurant. I wonder what people think when they see us walking side by side. We’re not walking close, so I doubt they think we’re together.

But we’re not walking far enough apart for them to think we’re not. The image of Paige and Adam holding hands flashes in my mind, and I have to ball my hand into a fist when it twitches.

“You were raised by a single dad?”

So she has been thinking about what I said.

“Yeah, in Montreal.”

She nods, as if internalizing this. “Do you ... Do you feel like you’re missing something in your life because you didn’t have your mom?”

That’s such a loaded question, and I don’t know how to answer.

“My dad did the best he could.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

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