Page 45 of You're the Reason

The biggest problem with making ballet her life was she had no one to call on when things went wrong. Especially at eight fifteen on a Saturday morning.

The only friends she’d even made since returning to Heritage had been Ms. Margret and Seth. Ms. Margret didn’t drive anymore. Which left Seth. Were they friends? And he was often up early for a workout. She couldn’t overthink this, it was this or count the number of broken bulbs in the gas station lights for a few hours while she waited. She tapped his number on her phone, and he picked up on the third ring.

“Grace?” His voice was thick with sleep.

She cringed. “I woke you, didn’t I?”

“It’s all right.” His voice became clearer with every word. “I was just trying to catch some extra sleep after the early ballet class.”

“Ack. We woke you then too.”

“What’s up?” She could almost hear him sitting up.

“I broke down, and I need a ride. I’m not far. Just over at the Marathon where you get on 31. But if you’re sleeping?—”

“On my way.” He hung up.

This shouldn’t be weird. After all, they worked together daily on her strength training, and he was still spotting her on her turns. Although now he always kept a wide space between them as he spotted her.

By the time Seth’s old white Lumina pulled into the parking lot, Grace had already delivered the keys to Charlie, locked the car, and waited with her duffel bag on her shoulder.

He popped open his door and stepped out but left the engine running. It wasn’t fair that he could look that good fifteen minutes after waking up. He had on a flannel over a T-shirt, jeans, and a black stocking cap that let just the edges of his dark hair peek out from beneath. “Need anything from your car?”

“Just my bag.” Grace motioned to the gray bag on her arm.

He eyed her large duffel a moment before reaching for it and carrying it to his trunk. He climbed into his side, and she reached for the passenger’s side handle, but it was locked.

He leaned across the car and pushed it open from the inside. A grimace accompanied the move. “Sorry, it only opens from the inside.”

He hurried to straighten a towel that covered the passenger seat. “There are some bare spots on the upholstery, so you’ll want to sit on that.”

Grace climbed in. The mid-’90s’ sedan had seen better days, but it was clean with a hint of oranges in the air.

When she didn’t say anything, he started fidgeting with the radio that didn’t seem to work either. “It’s not pretty. But it’s clean and reliable.”

She laid her hand on his arm. “It’s fine, Seth.”

“I’m just saying that it isn’t as nice as your Sonata.” He didn’t move, just stared at her hand.

She dropped her hand and reached for her seat belt. “Well, my Sonata isn’t working, so it’s a lot nicer at the moment.”

Finally, he sat back, put the car in drive, then pulled out on the road toward Heritage.

“Did you buy citrus recently?”

“Air fresheners under the seats.”

“I’m really sorry I woke you.”

“I was awake. My mom had called several times. I just didn’t answer her.”

“How did you know I wasn’t her?”

“Special ringtone.”

“I have a special ringtone?”

“N-no.” He shot her a look across the car. “She does.”

---