Page 3 of The Thought of You

The guy never takes anything seriously, and he teases those of us who do—mainly me.

I climb out of the driver’s seat, my feet as far apart as possible on either side of the puddle.

In three squishy steps, I open the back door in search of any other shoes I might’ve stowed away.

I cringe when I realize I do have a dry option, but the freaking boots might be worse than just keeping my sopping wet shoe on for the rest of the day.

“Looking good, Lockhart,” I hear just before the Jeep door slams shut to my left.

Owen saunters around the side, his jeans hung low on his narrow hips and his wavy hair damp, presumably from a recent shower. “When can I take this epic ride for a spin?”

Huffing, I sink onto the edge of the backseat, the corner of the boot box digging into my hip as if to point and laugh at me. “I will be the only one behind the wheel of this Volvo.”

He throws his back door open and reaches his long baseball-throwing arm inside. Then he slings a backpack onto his broad shoulders like it weighs nothing. The thing moves so effortlessly, I assume it is, in fact, empty.

“That’s cool. I don’t mind riding passenger,” he says with a wink.

I’m no flirting expert, but I know Owen. His dirty mind only thinks in innuendos.

As always, I ignore him and pluck the shoe off my foot, frowning as people toss nods and low whistles of admiration toward my car and me. Maren and Nathan greet me as they breeze by, hand in hand, and I offer only a faint wave and a lazy smile in return.

“Need a hand? You look lost.”

I blink and find Owen next to me. “I need help, but this is totally out of your wheelhouse.”

“Try me.” He shrugs, showing no signs of humor.

I don’t trust it, though. Humor is his whole personality.

Caroline passes by, her blonde hair loose and perfect for the day. We’ve been friends since we were toddlers, and even though her popularity status far outweighs mine, we’ve remained close.

She’ll have the answer.

I call out to her, and she bounces between Owen and me, her blue eyes sparkling like diamonds behind thick eyelashes.

“What’s going on?” She glances between us, then focuses her attention on me when she asks, “Are you already plotting the senior prank? You’ve come to the master.” She smacks Owen’s chest, and he squares his shoulders with pride.

It’s true. He is the pranking mastermind, but we have more important matters to address at the moment.

“Do you have an extra pair of shoes in your car I can borrow?” I ask, my words rushed as I lift my dirty shoe. “Major crisis here.”

Caroline’s hand flies to her mouth. “No way!”

Her outraged response is warranted and appreciated, but when her eyes droop in the corners, I know she will not be saving me today. I search the parking lot for Maren, but she’s long gone. I continue scanning for anyone else I could pester for a clean pair of shoes, but I come up empty.

And I’m running out of time. This was supposed to be the beginning of a new era, where punctuality could finally make it on my list of qualifications on my resume. I’m a firm supporter of such a quality, despite my mother’s belief that clocks are for the weak. She constantly argues with me that time is a human construct developed to control and stifle us, and only the strong rebel against it.

“I have a pair of my sister’s shoes in my Jeep from camping last weekend, but they’re a size six.” Owen hooks a thumb over his shoulder, and again, he actually appears genuinely concerned. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything but a smirk on his face and amusement in his eyes.

“I need an eight. Thank you, though.” I force a smile and blow out a frustrated breath as Caroline waves to someone over my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she offers with a squeeze of my hand, then skips away toward her boyfriend.

Owen saunters off in the same direction, where he high-fives a friend.

And I dig into the box behind me for the embarrassing monstrosities—green rubber rain boots with bright yellow ducks on them. Astronauts can spot them from Mars, and I have to wear them on my first day of school.

Why my mother thought these would be an appropriate birthday gift for me this summer is beyond my comprehension. I would have been too old for these even at ten, which was when I started budgeting and paying our bills.

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