I follow Abby downstairs, answering a call from my mom as I wave bye to my friend.
“The tow should be there in an hour. Can you hang around the house to sign for it? They have my card on file.” There’s chatter in the background.
“Sure. Where are you?” My eyes tail my friend’s car as it rolls down the street, switching focus to an unfamiliar red sports car that passes her on the way and slows at Lucas’s driveway. There’s a blonde woman driving, her hair cropped bluntly at her shoulders and oversized black sunglasses shading her eyes.
“I think I found a space!” My mom’s excitement draws me back in, but from the side door of our house I spy on the stranger pulling slowly up the Fuller driveway. The garage opens, unveiling Lucas’s mom’s car, and his mother guides the red car into the space where her husband usually parks.
Divorce attorney? This is how rumors start.
“That’s awesome, Mom. Are you gonna get it?” My attention is split in half.
“Negotiating now,” my mom says. She mentions a few other things, and I hear the words dinner and order, but I don’t retain much else. I end the call with her and close the side door most of the way so I can spy the proper way.
My mind spins with these clues, rearranging them to make sense, and then the roar of Lucas’s truck grinds up the driveway. I slam the door closed, eliminating the slight crack I was peeking through and move to the kitchen window, slitting the shutters enough to hide my profile.
Lucas should be at practice right now. He pulls his truck in close to the house, slipping out the driver’s side and rushing around the back of the house as if he forgot something. He’s wearing his gray practice shirt and his football pants, halfway dressed out for a practice, so I wonder if he did forget something at home. The longer he remains inside, though, the less likely that theory holds.
Almost thirty minutes pass with me staring at Lucas’s truck and the closed garage door hiding some strange visitor’s car. I have to pee, but I’m so afraid I’ll miss something and waste this time I’ve invested. My persistence pays off a few minutes later when the garage door opens and the red car’s reverse lights glow bright. Lucas walks out through the open garage along with his mom, and they both wave to the blonde woman backing out. I’m too far away to discern whether they’re scowling or smiling, but they don’t linger. Lucas jogs backward to his truck and his mom gets in her own vehicle, and they both disappear in less than a minute.
An hour of my life is gone.
It’s almost seven at night by the time the tow truck driver rings our bell. My mom’s words are starting to make more sense now, since it’s dinner time and she isn’t home. I ordered a pizza from Rudy’s twenty minutes ago, and the delivery man shows up while I’m guiding the tow up my driveway. I pay for the pizza and hold the box at my hip while the tow driver disconnects my car from his bed.
As the tow truck leaves, I plop a seat on the trunk of my car and open up the piping hot box of pizza next to me to let it cool. I should call Abby or text the other girls to see if they want to come over and share. I pull out my phone to do just that, but stop short when Tory pulls up at the end of my driveway. I tuck my phone in my pocket and lean back against my rear window while he walks up my driveway.
I’m fanning the rumors.
“What’s up, Mabee?” His gray shirt is drenched with sweat and his hair is damp and twisted in various directions from wearing his helmet.
“To what do I owe the honor?” I gesture to the pizza at my side, offering him a slice. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling a piece free, the stringy cheese threading through the air.
“I’m starving, thanks,” he says, blowing on the end for a few seconds before taking an impatient bite. He waves his hand at his mouth and chews with it open.
“It just got here. Might be hot,” I say, wincing with guilt.
“Ya think?” He laughs while he chews, but goes in for more, not deterred by the burn I’m sure that left on the roof of his mouth.
“You waiting on Lucas?” I glance to my right, to the driveway still empty after all the activity it held earlier.
“I came to check on you,” he says, moving the pizza box closer to me and taking a seat on the back of my car. It dips with his weight.
“Really?” There’s a twist in my chest from his answer. I’m not sure I want him checking on me because that lends credibility to the rumor, and we aren’t dating. It makes me think maybe he thinks we are, though.
He leans back on the rear window and holds the slice at an angle, guiding the rest of it in his mouth.
“You ate that in three bites,” I observe.
He chortles with his cheeks puffed out, full of crust.
“Like I said”—he muffles out the words—“I’m starving.”
He pulls out another slice and hands it to me. I test the temperature with my palm. It’s cool enough to nibble. Tory doesn’t waste time with small bites, devouring a second piece in the time it takes me to get through an eighth of my first one.
“So. Abby . . .”
I’m chewing when he hits me with the awkward transition. That’s probably for the best because the little pause I’m forced to make helps me put things together. He has a thing for my friend.
“What about her?” I smirk to myself.
“You think she really hates me?” he asks.
We’re both leaning back on the car window, staring up at the dimming sky and eating pizza. I can tell he’s trying to keep this casual, to not assign it too much meaning. Somehow, in the first two weeks of school, this obnoxious twin has become one of my best friends. I breathe out a little laugh at that thought.
“Sometimes it seems she hates all of us,” I say, rolling my head to the side and squinting at him with one eye.
He pulls out another slice, this time folding it in half and biting from the crust end. He nods slowly and glances at me sideways while chewing.
“Sometimes isn’t all the time, so that means there’s a shot.” He winks and his coyness sparks a warm feeling in my chest, making me grin.
“There is always a shot,” I say.
He turns his head to face upward and nods, smiling through another bite.
“Speaking of . . .”
The rumble of a truck breaks up our quiet. I will myself to not glance to the right, even as the driver’s side door opens and slams shut.
“Hey, Princess!” Tory teases, holding up his hand in a wave as he lies next to me. I eye him from the side and notice he’s not looking Lucas’s way. He’s taunting him, maybe for sport . . . maybe for me.
I let him.
There’s no immediate response from Lucas, only the slow shuffling of his feet drawing closer. Nerves make me want to fill the silence, but I’ll only say something I’ll regret, or something that will push this game between us to a new level. I can’t judge Lucas for being hurtful and taunting if I do the exact same things.
“You got your car back,” he says.
Yeah, guess you don’t have to worry about me begging for rides anymore. I let that thought pass through, discarding it. It’s not the right thing to say.
“I did.” I pat my hand against the metal and roll my head to the side until my gaze lands on him. He’s trying not to say the wrong things, too. I can tell by the tightness in his neck, the way his shoulders are high despite the bag of gear dangling from his right arm and heavy backpack pulling down the left.