Page 10 of No Interest in Love

“Did you know I’ve been a junior agent for three years? I double-majored in businessandfilm studies and guess who gets promoted before me? Brownnoser Barry and his newest client,Weston Roland.” She shakes her head side to side, glaring at the windshield. Her foot presses harder on the gas pedal, and I know she’s in a mood, but I don’t want to end up splattered on the side of the road.

“Calm the hell down. We’re gonna spin out.”

“You know what’s the worst part?” she goes on, flinging her hand out at me. “I was the one who researched Weston. I sought him out, contacted him, and told him about the part I thought he’d be perfect for. And he goes and signs with my colleague because he’s ‘more personable’?”

“Well…” I say, then shut my mouth because the car pushes forward again when Shay turns and gives me the death glare.

“I can be personable,” she says, then turns to the windshield. Under normal circumstances, I’d argue with her, but I’m clinging to the dash now, squinting through the downpour and wondering how the hell she can see.

“Damn it,” she whispers, her voice getting wet. My chest feels tight, and I cringe because crying women are my kryptonite. Probably why I get along with Shay, because she doesn’t cry. She keeps her shit together. Discomfort prickles the back of my neck when I hear her sniffle, and I’m not sure whether to ignore her right now or to pat her leg and go, “There, there.”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Her voice shakes, but she clears her throat and takes a deep breath. “Really, I should be used to it by now.”

The wheels squeal as we come around a bend. I swallow hard and loosen my grip on the dash. “Hey, I know you’re upset, but we really are going too fa—”

“I’m fi—” Shay starts, then the car swerves to the righthard, then back to the left, and then…

“Agghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

It takes me a second to realize the sound of a thousand banshees isme. I grapple for the “oh shit” handle, the car spinning and spinning while Shay slams on the brakes.

And my life actually flashes before my eyes.

First grade: Peter Rubarb gives me a black eye after I call him “Peter the wiener.” Junior prom: Kelsi Higgins kicks me in the nuts after I try to get to second base. Last year: Penny Shaw pushes me buck-ass naked into the hallway at our apartment complex after I tell her I’m not ever gonna love her back.

I’m going to die a douchebag.

The car spins again, the rain pelting on the windshield, and Shay’s white-knuckling the steering wheel. And I don’t know what comes over me, but in the midst of it all, I blurt out, “I love you, Grandma!”

Just as I’m sure we’re about to fly off into a ditch and get swallowed up in the bright light, the seat belt locks against my chest, cutting off my airway, and the car jerks to a stop. There’s just enough time for my lungs to function again before a largeclunkjars through the engine and the entire carglugs.

A small whimper escapes Shay’s mouth, and when I blink out of my near-death-experience haze, I flick my eyes to her gasping for air, hands still wrapped tight around the wheel.

“You’re right,” I mutter. “People don’t know how to drive in this weather.”

She clamps her lips shut tight, the corner of her mouth twitching badly as she refuses to humor me. She reaches out and turns the key. The car’s not gonna start, though.

“You flooded it,” I tell her.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“Just wondering why you’re even trying to start it.” I pull my hood over my head and reach for the door handle. “Pop the hood.”

“And what are you going to do?” she asks, crossing her arms. She rubs her hands up and down over her goose bumps. “Bang on the engine?”

“Pretty much.”

She hits the door lock. “Not a chance. You can’t get sick.”

“I won’t get sick.”

“Could you imagine trying to create chemistry during your screen test with a runny nose?”

“So we’re just going to stay in here?” I shake my head. “Hard pass.”

She leans over me.

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