“Also, I want to pass stats. So, it’s not such a bad deal for me.” I take a sip of my coffee and push the open book toward him. “Can we start now? I have an hour before class.”
Toby grabs a pen and motions for my notebook. “Works for me. I’ll need a sheet of paper. Let’s get to it.”
Perhaps the stats quiz was easier because of the tips Toby gave me for memorizing formulas and understanding concepts. Or maybe it was because he instilled a confidence in me that I wasn’t as math handicapped as I feared. Whatever the reason, I quit questioning the test gods and allow myself to enjoy the fact that I passed.
I exit the campus overflow parking lot and head toward the gym to teach my hip-hop class. As I sit at a stoplight on the main highway, I notice a brown paper bag in the passenger seat.
Gabby and I fought this morning. It’s so like her to leave a peace offering in my car.
While the light’s still red, I grab the surprisingly heavy bag to open it. I assume she’s made me a sandwich. She’s probably thrown in some cookies like she always does. The girl is incorrigible—driving me crazy one second and being the sweetest sister on earth in the next.
A slip of paper peeks from inside the bag. The traffic light turns green and I place the bag on the passenger seat. It’s not every day that Gabby shows her sweet side, and I make a mental note to read the paper when I get to work.
A mile down the road, traffic comes to a standstill. Several cars up, there’s a wreck. We seem to be trapped and the cars ahead of me won’t go around.
At this rate, I’ll miss teaching my class. A police siren wails and I glance at the time on my cell phone. If he clears it quickly, maybe I can still make it.
I drum my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. Five minutes passes. Ten. I glance at my fuel gauge.
Finally, the cars move forward and around the wreck. The white Audi has to be totaled. There’s glass sprayed across the pavement and the hood is crunched into an accordion mess.
Then I notice the two girls standing to the side of the cop’s vehicle. Veronica, Collin’s fiancé, stands with one arm wrapped around a girl. When my car is even with them and I can see better, I recognize the other girl as well—Malerie. Malerie’s shoulders shake as she cries into her friend’s shoulder.
I take a gulp of air and exhale. Car accidents always freak me out. They’re both lucky they aren’t hurt, based on the amount of damage. They don’t appear to be hurt, anyway. I doubt anything is damaged except the car since an ambulance hasn’t shown.
Still, I pull over to the side of the road. Veronica is always super-nice to me even though I don’t always return the favor. I usually don’t have time to do nice. But I’ll just have to be late to work today.
I get out and walk to the cop car. A wrecker pulls up the minute I get to them. “Hey, you guys okay?”
Veronica’s gaze swings up to meet mine. “I am so glad to see you. Look, Mal. It’s okay now. Emerson’s here to get us. We don’t have to call Ace.”
Malerie lifts her tear-stained face. Dang. I’ve never seen this girl even look slightly unhappy, much less tearful. Her eyes are wide and panicky, her face pale. I glance over at the ruined car. Maybe her hottie husband is an asshole and I’ve been fooled by their marriage of the rich and beautiful.
Malerie’s lips part in the slightest of smiles. “Really? Thanks, Emerson.”
I flinch that she seems so surprised that I’d help out. I must seem like a real douchebag most of the time. “No problem. I was just driving by and you need a ride, so here to the rescue...”
I trail off, not really knowing where I was going with that thought. Obviously nowhere important. Malerie turns to talk to the cop, ignoring my rambling. She nods at me while she lets him know I’m taking them home.
Both girls get into the car, Veronica in the front passenger seat and Malerie insisting she needs to sit in back.
I make a quick call to my boss at the gym to let him know I can’t make the class. “You okay back there?” I glance in the rearview.
Malerie sits in a ball of tension, her shoulders drawn forward. She shudders and stares back at me. I’ve not talked much with her in the past and it surprises me that she looks so petite and fragile in the back seat. Usually her brazen attitude storms into Dylan’s house and whirls out when she and her man leave.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” she answers. Malerie rolls her eyes, more at herself than a reaction to my question. “I’m sorry for acting like a baby. It’s my first wreck.”
“Really? I’ve had like—” I count as I pull into the lane to drive away, “—three wrecks. No. Four if you count hitting that concrete thing at the gas pump. Which maybe it doesn’t count because no one saw me. Well, and then there was the time I ran over my sister’s boyfriend’s motorcycle, but that idiot parked behind me so...it doesn’t count.”
I glance over at Veronica, who covers her mouth with one hand, not hiding the smile in her eyes. She drops her hand. “Sure it doesn’t count. If a tree falls in the forest and no one’s there to hear it or a girl hits a gas pump and no one—”
I lift my eyebrows and look at Malerie in the back. “It was a concrete bar, not a pump. A little too close to the gas pump for my comfort, but I did miss it.”
Malerie’s expression lightens, her mouth dropping open in shock. “You are a walking traffic violation. You cannot tell this stuff to Ace. He’ll never let me in a car with you again.”
Veronica snorts. “I’m not sure I’d tell that stuff to anyone, but specially not Mr. Worry Wart Ace.”
My gaze flicks to the rearview and Malerie nods. “Right,” she says. “Good plan.”
“These are extenuating circumstances. I usually don’t give people my driving record.” I maneuver the car to the slow lane, aware of how damning my confession has been. “Where am I taking you guys? Malerie? Your house?”
“No,” she answers. “Actually, Ace is working at Collin’s today.”
“Again? Why are they working there?” I realize how rude it sounds the minute it’s out of my mouth. “Sorry. It’s none of my business.” I put on the turn signal to take a route out to the guy’s house. Dylan’s house.
“We’ve been updating some things at our place and one thing keeps leading to another.” Malerie touches my arm. “And you can ask.”
I nod and meet her eyes in the mirror. “Your guy going to be pissed over the car?”
“No. Yes. I mean, Ace will be stressed. He’s always worried about me. But he’d never be mad about the car.” Malerie’s voice carries a softness the minute she mentions his name. “I freak out when I’m under stress. It’s a PTSD thing. I feel stupid that I let my fears take over. That’s what Ace will be more worried about.”
“Oh,” I answer.
Veronica speaks up quickly with a defensive edge to her voice, throwing up an invisible shield around her friend. “Mal, you did great. I was shaken up, too.”
“Yeah, I know someone who has PTSD. And that wreck would make me shaky. So, you acted like any one of us.” I stare straight ahead at the traffic and hope they don’t expect me to explain the statement I’ve made about the PTSD. Shit, shit, humongous truckload of shit. Why did I confess that? I do not know these chicks well enough to be sharing secrets. It’s not like the movies where this would be the moment that defines our new friendship. Besties forever because we had a heart-to-heart.