Page 56 of Enemy Crush
QUINN
Ichecked my reflection in the window of Jameson’s Key Cutting store, retying my hair to fit better under the cap, remembering the way Miller had fixed my ponytail, the way the roof of my mouth had tingled. I wanted to feel that sensation again, but it didn’t seem to work with my own fingers. I opened my bag, thankful for the lip balm and cologne spray I kept in there. Spritzing myself, I took a deep breath, wondering if Miller would be working with me today. His house had been in darkness as we drove by and no motorbikes had passed us on the way here. I tried to tell myself I didn’t care if he did or not, but lying to yourself is such a weird thing to do.
I hope Miller isn’t here today because I literally look like I just got out of bed!
I hope he’s not working in case Noah or Lara turn up again and Noah opens his big mouth.
I hope he’s...
The Hamlin truck drove up and a thrill raced through me to see Miller driving it. I raced over and opened the passenger door, jumping up into the seat.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey, what’s going on? Where’s Shayla? Is she okay?”
“Her baby is coming.”
“What? Now? It’s not due for another two weeks.”
Miller shrugged. “Guess it’s not waiting. Mr. Hamlin called me last night and asked if I could come pick up the truck.”
“It’s just me and you working the stand?” The weight of responsibility seemed impossibly huge, but strangely, I was excited.
“Clarissa’s coming, but she’s getting a ride with her mom. And she can only stay a couple of hours.”
“O...okay.”
“You’ll be all right?” Miller nodded to a box on the seat. “All the stuff is in there.”
“I hope I remember everything,” I said, opening the plastic container. There was a list of instructions, a cash box and price list.
“You will,” Miller said confidently, “you did great last week.”
I cast a sideways glance, suspicious of his kindness, but he said, “All good?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I said, watching as he checked the mirrors and drove off.
I read through the list over and over, committing everything to memory, and in my head I pictured the layout of the crates and vegetables. I folded the sheet of paper and returned it to the box, prompting Miller to ask, “Everything okay?”
I nodded, becoming aware of the radio playing in the background. And yes, I’d been avoiding Miller all week, but we were stuck together, just the two of us, and it would seem really weird if I didn’t talk for the whole journey. And I was naturally curious too.
“Uh, how did you get the farm truck?” I asked.
“I rode out there.”
“On your motorbike? That must’ve been an early start?”
“Yep. I just kinda rolled out of bed when the alarm went off.”
“I was so tired, I hit snooze, and then I was running late and in a mad panic.” The words kind of just flowed without any connection to my brain.
Miller laughed. “I think I barely got five hours sleep.”
“We’re gonna need a coffee run as soon as we get there.”
“Oh yeah,” he said, “I’d say so.”
“I think I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow last night.” What was happening? Why couldn’t I control my mouth?
