Parrish doesn’t skip a beat, picking up a huge rock and tossing it at the other guy as I struggle to catch my breath. The rock makes contact with the man’s helmet, but Parrish isn’t done there. He picks up a huge stick and wields it like a bat, standing in front of me like a shield.
It’s a bit heroic, a lot sexy.
The driver of the other ATV hesitates, and even though I can’t see his face because of his helmet, there’s something about him that strikes me as familiar. The fine hairs on my arms stand at attention as a chill ripples through me. Do I know this person? Have I seen him somewhere before?
“Why don’t you fuck off to whatever hole you crawled out of?” Parrish snarls, still holding the stick up like a weapon. The driver starts toward us, reaching inside his jacket like he’s going for something—more specifically, like he’s going for a weapon.
Seconds later, I hear the roar of a motor, and our guide appears on the trail just up ahead, clearly looking for us.
The man drops his arms to his side before hopping back in the ATV and taking off the way he came, cutting across the dirt to the opposite fork of the trail.
What. the. fuck?
I turn to look at Parrish, his helmet tossed aside, his eyes wide as he stares at the retreating dust cloud left by the other ATV.
“Was he … trying to kidnap me?” I ask, but Parrish doesn’t answer me. Instead, he reaches down to take my hand, curling his fingers through mine.
And that’s it.
I’m sold.
I’m sold on him, on the possibility of ‘us’, on the thrill of the impossible.
Sure, I hate the guy, but I like him, too.
And that, that’s what’s going to get me into trouble.
The conclusion that Tess, Paul, and our guide seem to agree on is this: the other driver hit us on accident, thought I was injured and was trying to help me, and then panicked about liability before taking off.
Sounds reasonable.
But then, I was there. That’s not what it felt like. The way he dragged me across the ground, the way he took off when he heard the other ATV. No, it doesn’t seem right. I can’t shake the feeling, even as Tess fawns all over me and Parrish, her overprotective mothering instincts clicking into full gear.
We make a police report, give our statements, and then move on. Because it was just an accident, right? Other than a few bumps and bruises (and a seriously sore neck on my part), there aren’t any injuries. Nobody is missing. Everyone is together.
“Are we finally forgiven?” Parrish asks as we pull into the parking lot of the world’s very last Blockbuster Video. Like, for real, the very last one. For those unfamiliar with Blockbuster Video (meaning me, who just looked this up on my Tess-given phone), a Blockbuster is a video rental store that used to rent out, well, videos and then later DVDs and Blu-rays before streaming was a thing. “When we get home, do we get our doors back?”
Tess ignores her son’s question, parking near the front of the store before glancing back to give him a look. Her gaze slips over to me, and I see it, that thing I didn’t want to believe but I’ve known was true for a long time anyway: crushing disappointment. I am a crushing disappointment.
I just stare back at her.
“We’ll talk about it when we get home,” she says, getting out of the car with the rest of the family following suit. I’m not exactly sure why we’re here or what need we might have for a video rental store, but Parrish takes pity on me.
“It’s tradition: we come here during every trip and rent a movie, grab some popcorn.” He shrugs. “My dad says it’s ‘an experience’. Anyway, they have some dope hoodies if you don’t care about ancient technology.”
I smile at him, but I can’t seem to make myself laugh.
I’m too creeped out by the incident earlier; my mind is making connections that shouldn’t be made. The hiking incident. Waking up in the woods. Do I have a stalker or something? What gives? Part of me wonders if I shouldn’t tell Tess, but then, our relationship isn’t exactly on solid ground. To tell her about the hiking incident, I have to admit to leaving the state to see my sister. Tess was pissed enough about my visit to the coffee shop. And the woods incident? How do I know if that was even real? I’ve been filming myself sleeping every night and as far as I can tell, the only crime that’s being committed is the excessive amount of drool my poor pillow’s been subjected to.
Tess and I don’t exactly have an open dialogue.
“Thank you,” I tell Parrish, turning to glance his way. He’s already on his way out of the car, but he pauses briefly to look back at me. “For trying to save me.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he replies, his voice much softer than usual. “You saved yourself by kicking the dude in the balls.” He turns away, toward the massive yellow sign that stretches across the front of the building. “Do you really think he was trying to help you? It didn’t look like that to me.”
“Didn’t look like that to me either.” I join him outside on the pavement, heading into the air-conditioned building with its blue carpet and shelves filled with DVDs and Blu-rays. Wow. Parrish was right: it’s like an archaeological study in here. I could probably find dinosaur bones if I looked hard enough.
The Vanguard family is wandering the aisles, picking up cases and reading descriptions on movies. Even Kimber is participating without complaining which is a weird sight to behold. Parrish breezes past me to head toward the snack section of the store, loading up on popcorn and Whoppers and red licorice that he piles on the counter like this isn’t his first time at the rodeo.
“Parrish,” Tess calls out, holding up a case in the air. “I bet I know what your vote’s for.”
He joins her, taking the case from her hand and turning it over with a frown. One of his brows goes up as Tess laughs, throwing her arm around him in a rare gesture of affection. Kimber, Ben, Amelia, Henry, and Paul join them, and the family takes a vote between three different movies.
It’s in that moment, standing by the door by myself that it hits me: I want to fit into this family. I want to, but I don’t. I might never be able to. And yet, the family that I left behind in New York, the family that attends Washington State, I might not be able to see them for years.
Years.
As Parrish said, there are ‘dope hoodies’ here. I bury myself in the task of looking through them, so nobody has to see me cry.
Later, when we get back to the house, I go straight to the basement to avoid having to talk to Laverne. The way she looks at me makes me feel even more unwanted, even more like an outlier.
I’m lying on my bed when I hear a soft knock at the door.
“Come in.” I glance toward the door as Parrish opens it and slips inside, closing it softly behind him.
“We’re getting ready to start the movie,” he tells me, but not like he wants me to join, more like he’s just stating facts. Without asking, he sits down on the edge of the bed. Can’t really blame him considering the number of times I’ve burst into his room and gotten on his bed without permission. “I’m guessing you’re not interested in watching it?”
He looks at me, dressed in a different Whitehall Prep hoodie than the gray one he usually favors. Did I mention that our school has a mech shop? No joke: we have sweatpants, sweaters, vests, windbreakers, joggers, socks, custom sneakers, headbands, etc. There’s no shortage to WHPA gear.