Page 122 of Left on Base

“Get in!” Callie says, too enthusiastically.

Jaxon climbs into the backseat, and I swear I can feel his presence like static.

“So,” Callie breaks the silence as we pull away, “anyone want to explain the fork thing? Or why Fork Guy’s wearing an eye patch? Or why there’s a guy serenading a parking meter?”

“Well,” Jaxon leans forward, close enough that I can smell his cologne mixing with post-practice sweat that shouldn’t be attractive but somehow is, “it started with upside-down ramen…”

“And ended with questionable relationship advice,” I add, ignoring how his arm is draped behind my seat.

“Speaking of questionable decisions,” Jaxon’s voice is near my ear, “that was some impressive bush-diving back there. Care to explain?”

“Oh yeah?” I turn, wincing as my chin protests. “And what would you rate it?”

Like how I ignored why I was even stalking him? Me too.

“Technical difficulty: 8.5. Style: 9. Landing needs work.”

“The concrete kind of came out of nowhere.”

“That’s what concrete does. Sneaky.”

From the sidewalk, Bus Stop Guy yells, “PATRICIA, THIS COULD HAVE BEEN US!” Fork Guy chimes in, “Let her go, man! Let her go!”

“Should we be concerned?” Callie asks, watching in her mirror.

“Nah,” Jaxon says. “Fork Guy’s actually smart when he’s not defying gravity with noodles. He’s in my psych class.”

“The one with the essay due tomorrow?” I remind him.

“Shit.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, that one.”

“About behavioral psych?” I continue. “The one you haven’t started?”

“How did you?—?”

“Fork Guy mentioned it. Three times.”

Callie snorts. “Someone’s pulling an all-nighter.”

“Unless…” Jaxon leans forward, and I can hear the smile in his voice, “someone really good at psychology helps me?”

“You mean the someone who just face-planted spying on you?”

“Exactly. You’ve got excellent observational skills.”

I can’t help but laugh, even though it hurts. “That’s a stretch.”

“I’m serious,” he says. “Think about it. Firsthand experience with impulsive behavior, risk assessment, cause and effect…”

“Don’t forget gravity,” Callie chimes in. “She’s an expert now.”

“See? Perfect. Plus,” his voice softens, “I don’t want to do this alone.”

And damn if that doesn’t get me. I blame lidocaine. And his stupid cologne. And the way his arm drapes behind my seat like it belongs there.

“Fine,” I sigh. “But I want it noted that this is against my better judgment.”

“Noted,” he says, and I can hear his grin. “Just like how making out while doing handstands was against Fork Guy’s better judgment.”

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