Page 39 of The Tomorrows After You
Respectfully quiet at first, he finallyasked,“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s my Uncle Jacob…” I waited for a reaction that didn’t come. “Apparently his engine blew up.”
“Hm, really.” Riot muttered but I couldn’t help noticing the small twitch in his lips.
“Yeah, whichisweird because hewasbraggingabout how itwasbrand new, andhe’djusthadittuned up.” I pictured the metal tray under the carport I'd spotted before we left. The one filled with thick, dirty liquid.
“Hm, yeah?”
“Yeah,you’rea mechanic. What would make an engine die like that?”
Riot raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Plenty of things, I guess.” He kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead and I kept mine fixed on him. He was good at giving nothing away.
“I mean, it’s almost like someonedrainedthe oil out of his car.”
His eyebrows went up, seemingly impressed. But then his right shoulder shrugged.
“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” I was goading him, but I couldn’t help it. His profile was steady, unwavering while the highway passed us.
His exaggerated frown directly contradicted his amused eyes. His head drifted from side to side. “Nope.”
The little pop his lipsmadeon the end of the wordnopewarmedmy insides and Ifeltthat block of ice begin to thaw.
12
Riot
The ride home was quiet after she’d asked me about her uncle’s car. I wasn’t a good actor, which was why I was glad my beard covered up my shit-eating grin.
I ran a hand over my face. I should shave it. I never gave much thought to it before. Katie told me to keep my scar covered, so I did, never offering myself a second thought as to howIfelt about it.
It covers your smile, that’s all.
Those wordshitme like a truck because I couldn’t even remember the last time Ismiled. And now IfeltIwasworkingovertime to keep a straight face around Nicolette. Shemademe want to smile more, and thatmademe want to shave this beard straight off, reveal my whole, full face to her and everyone else, andlettheir judgment fall where it might.
A thin tendril of dreadwoveitself around my brain. Nicolettemademe want to uncover myself like no one everhadand that realizationterrifiedme as much as itgrippedmy heart in sadness.I’dnever be able to uncover myself. Not wholly. Not completely. Not to her. Not to anyone.
I flicked the radio on to drown out my quickly spiraling thoughts. I flipped through the channels, glancing in her direction to see if anything sparked interest. When I landed on a station, the slow drums of The Wallflowers’ “One Headlight” pumped through the speakers, and I smiled. My dad loved this song. I was young but I remember him playing the air drums every time it came on the radio.
A smilecrossedNicolette’s lips too, so Iletthe song play. The musicgrewwhen Iclickedthe volume up a notch. Nicolette’s eyesfellto the dashboard and her headbeganto bob. Shereacheda tentative hand to the volume, turning it up one more notch when the guitarcamein. Itriedto suppress the smile on my lips, but I couldn’t help it. Her silent challengehadme all butforgettingabout the self-pity thatconsumedme moments before.
When the vocalsbegan, Ihitthe volume up again from the controls on my steering wheel. Her fingersstartedto drum on her thighs and the sleepy, wry grin on her lipswarmedme from the inside out.
When the first chorus came in, her delicate hand cranked the volume up to the point I needed to roll down our windows. The smile that stretched across her face was giddy and unbound.
Weletthe music and air assault us and I couldn’t remember the last timeI’dfeltthis unbridled. Istolea glance over andreveledin the way shelether arm hang out the window,her palm catchingthe wind. I imagined what it wouldhavebeen like to hang out with her in high school, young andunburdenedby the darkness the world would throw at her.
My heartthuddedwhen shepeeredup at me through a thin curtain of blonde hair thathadfallenin front of her eyes, wisps of untamed hairwhippingaround that ponytail she alwayswore. Iletmy mind wander to what her hair would feel like all around my face and chest. How easily my fingers could slide through it.
Her lips moved with the lyrics, and I found myself humming. Her gaze caught on the words I was mouthing but hadn’t given voice to. She leaned over and nudged me with an elbow to loosen up.
Even though shescreamedthe chorus, her voicewasalmost inaudible over the music, but itmademe want to join in. So, I did.Throwingall reservations out the open truck window, not caring how off-tune or ridiculous Ilooked.
We shouted the familiar chorus in unison. Her laugh was infectious, the music blaring.
As shesang, shetappedmybeatup truck’s dashboard, and Igaveher a sarcastic frown, which onlylither smile up further and my heartbeatlike it might jump out of my chest. As the songwenton, my guardbeganto drop. The way her headnodded, how her foottapped, unforced. When our eyesmeton the last lyrics, itwasas if the black cloud of the last ten yearswasdissolvedby that one headlight.
I’d be lying if I said that car ride home hadn’t changed something between us. I wasn’t delusional enough to think she was interested in me but she had warmed to me in the days that followed. It was strange how one little moment, one song, one lyric, one simple shared experience could shift the tenor of the connection between two people.
