Page 32 of Say Yes to the Hot Mess

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Dex is correct:it is drizzling outside. But I need my car, which means I need my tire fixed, which means I’m out in the driveway.

Because I am a grown woman, dangit, and I can do this. Ican.

Probably not in a skirt, though, so I change into some jeans first. It also occurs to me that I don’t need to be quite so gung-ho, like maybe I could wait until the weather is better, but I’m here now, and I don’t want Dex to feel obligated do it himself.

So here I am. I’ll make it work.

My cabbage leaves are starting to warm up, which doesn’t feel great, and they sort of itch. They’re also feeling a little…slippery? So I decide to spend about fifteen minutesinthe car first, watching YouTube videos on how to change a tire and ever so casually billowing my t-shirt back and forth so that my bosom region will hopefully dry out, holding the cabbage in place while I do. Then I tuck the phone in my pocket, making sure my baby monitor is secure where it’s clipped to the waist of my pants, and step out into the wind, rounding the car and opening the trunk. I know I’ve got a spare in here, and after some digging around I also find what the internet informs me are a jack and a lug wrench. Neither of these names mean anything to me, but apparently I need them, so I’m glad they’re there.

I prop my phone with the instructional video inside the trunk, where hopefully it will stay dry, and then I eye the tools laid out in front of me.

“Okay,” I tell myself, taking a deep breath. “You can do this. It doesn’t matter that your chest is hanging out with soggy salad. It doesn’t matter that your neighbor is stupid hot or that he thinks you’re apparently trying to take advantage of him. Screw that. You don’t need his help. You are a champion, and champions can change tires, no problem.”

I am a champion. I’ve got this.

It looks like I need to get the hubcap off first, so I grab my tools and bend over, using the flat end of my lug wrench to remove it. At first my hair gets in the way, blowing constantly in my face, but once I twist it into a bun it’s better. I’m feeling pretty good about myself when I breeze through the hubcap step. The next thing to do, however, is loosen the lug nuts, which is all fine and good, but the instructional video says I may need to useforce.

There is not a whole lot of force in my muscles, so we’ll see how this goes…

And the answer isnot well. Not well at all.

“You really should use some wheel wedges behind these front wheels.”

I yelp at the sound of Dex’s voice coming from behind me, and I straighten up, whirling around. “Make some noise,” I say, my heart pounding.

His mouth crooks into a little half-smile as he continues my way, his hands in his pockets. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Yeah, well,” I say, trying to scratch discreetly at my itchy cabbage chest. “I need to focus.”

“You seemed like you were doing just fine,” he says with a shrug. Then he stops walking a couple feet away from me, his smile widening, and he adds, “Even if yourstupid-hot neighborwasn’t here to help you.”

I gape at him.

“But did you say something about soggy salad?” he goes on. “I didn’t quite get that part.”

“I—you—” I stammer, but I have no words for my embarrassment, so I give up. “I have to change this now,” I say faintly.

I’m not sure he hears me over the wind and the drizzling rain, but I don’t wait for him to respond. I just turn back around and crouch down, getting to work on the lug nuts. I throw my weight into the movement, but for all the good it does I might as well be doing nothing at all. They’re firmly resistant to my attempts. I’m keenly aware of Dex’s presence, even though he’s not making any noise. Is he really just going to stand there?

With an exhausted huff, I straighten up again, resisting the urge to chuck the lug wrench off into the yard somewhere. I scratch absently at my upper chest; those leaves are getting all bunchy and out of place, and they’re really starting to irritate my skin. The wind dances around me, pulling with it the smell of storms, and the way my cabbage-filled shirt billows makes me nervous.

“Here,” Dex says, and I look at him as he steps around me, holding his hand out for the lug wrench.

“No,” I say tiredly, thinking of his reaction when I asked for his help the first time. “Not if you’re going to be annoyed about it.”

“Look,” he says with a sigh. “I’ve met a lot of people in my life who don’t want to put in the time or the effort to achieve their goals. A lot of women who don’t want to chip a nail; a lot of men who don’t want to get their hands dirty. They’d rather have someone else do the heavy lifting. But you’re out here in the wind and rain trying to do this by yourself, so you’re clearly not one of those people. If you want me to help you, I can.” When I hesitate, he adds, “I have to admit, watching you try to loosen those lug nuts is painful.”

I frown. “I’ll get them eventually.”

He smiles slightly. “You will. But your stupid-hot neighbor is willing to help if you change your mind.”

I roll my eyes, feeling my cheeks heat once again. “You can stop bringing that up any time you’d like.”

“I don’t think so,” he says cheerfully. “I’ve been called ‘stupid,’ and I’ve been called ‘hot,’ but as far as I know, no one has ever called me ‘stupid hot’ before. So I think I’ll harp on about it for a bit longer.”

“Who in your life has ever called you stupid?” I say, more intrigued than I should be. But I can’t help it; he’s just so clearly not stupid. “And here,” I say, finally passing him the wrench, because he’s right—I would get the lug nuts eventually, but it would probably take forever. “I want you to show me what you’re doing, though, so I can do it myself next time.”

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