Page 17 of Our Hearts Knew Better

My hair tomorrow would look like I got anothernot goodnight of sleep, but worse, like I was turning and tossing all over my pillow.

But that wastomorrow’strouble.

The music grew louder below me and I raised my arms with an adrenaline-rushed scream. I glanced down once to see Adam’s shoulders jumping with his laughter as his hands drummed the wheel.

This time, when I closed my eyes, I sang along, knowing I now had a memory that would be forever attached to this song.

Racing, Not Breaking

Adam’s ex-girlfriend’s name was Nadia. Unique. Strong. A great main character name. I’d bet her story was one for the books. It had to be with someone like Adam in her life.

He started telling me things through texting before he talked about them to my face. Like it was easier for him to keepaface behind a device.

He was much more volunteering about his family—we both didn’t have much of a dad and he, too, didn’t have a mom; she left them for another man when Adam was a kid—the wound that was nothing new, that lived in your bones, already a scab you’re used to picking at and letting grow over again.

His wound from Nadia was still tender, an instant sting when touched.

We’d taken a couple more drives after the first one. I learned more about Rosalee Bay, its little secrets and how it ticked, much more than my dad gave a bother to know now.

Dad had been noticing my uptick in attitude. I wasdifferent.

My heart leaped at the observation and thudded erratically at the scrutiny. I chided myself for not appearing the way I always had, but I got some grace when I didn’t have to come up with an answer. He gave me one by asking if I was finally getting settled and seeing the bright side of another move.

I really was.

He didn’t know.

The long look he’d given me stayed with me even longer, but I knew he didn’t, because he wouldn’t have let it go on a second more if he did. If I was caught, I was just caught. He wouldn’tgive me time to own up myself. Those weren’t the kinds of mind games he played.

I was still in the clear. I just had to be a bit more careful.

Adam’s texts came mostly on the nights I didn’t see him, when he was taking the time to catch up on sleep or with Levi.

He never told me he was with Levi, and it was something I didn’t ask, but I assumed. He wouldn’t just stop needing his best friend because I came along, needy in my own ways, and wishful.

I still hadn’t seen or heard from Levi and I became twitchy at the thought of finding out why, that maybe he refused my number and asked Adam not to tell me to avoid hurting my feelings.

Thatthought put a shake in my head whenever it tried to settle. It didn’t feel right. But this nudging insecurity that I wasn’t worth the trouble kept me from asking.

And it was easier to say yes to Adam when Levi wasn’t around. Because Adam was. On my phone and outside my house.

This night, he was wearing a baseball cap. I knew fictional girls who swooned over that look. I wasn’t a hat girl. Adam was still cute—he’d still look good covered in dirt from the field, and I was sure he did—I just didn’t swoon over hats. I likedseeingthe hair. If a breeze came along, I wanted to watch the strands flow with it.

He hurried me along more than he usually did. But I was ready, my body bouncing more and more with the rush of leaving and the rush to leave.

Time was of the essence, and I had a sense of where he was taking me. A thrill up my spine straightened me in the seat of his car as my fingers clutched the door handle, when we pulled up to that dead end hill.

We skipped down the patch of grass, Adam laughing at my fluctuating smile I kept chewing at, then slowed through thetrees, until we met another patch of grass with lit up train tracks just ahead.

The lights were low, but glowing enough to see the length of the tracks from this spot before both ends disappeared on the left and right sides.

Adam told me the direction the train would be coming and my entire body lifted with a squint toward the darkness, that distant whistle we heard that first night a low blare in my brain.

“But we got some time,” he told me next, and I dropped back to my heels with a chuckle that cut off to an intake of breath as I felt his fingers graze my leg, right below the hem of my shorts.

I glanced over at him, thendownat him, where he now sat on the ground. His hand was still on my leg, and he left the touch there as our eyes locked, then lowered his arm with a motion for me to sit beside him.

We’d since gotten more rain, but the ground was dry again. I probably would’ve sat with him and wouldn’t have argued about going back to my house in dirty clothes even if it wasn’t. That touch was…nice.

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