Page 8 of That Time I Kissed The Groomsman Grump
“What playing? I’m not playing.” When I try shutting my case, it’s still a few inches from being able to close. So I climb on top, forcing the two sides together. Then I snap the latches.Clack. Clack.The sound matches the crackling in my heart. But I bury the feeling, and start wheeling my way toward the exit. No looking back.
Yes, I’m an adult. But what happened with Brady is water under the bridge. It has to be. It’s also something I never think about.
Almostnever.
Hardly ever, really.
ChapterFour
SIX MONTHS AGO: NATALIE
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.How could you be so incredibly stupid?I exhale a long, frosty breath which immediately turns to vapor. Burying my frozen chin in the swoop of my scarf, I give thanks that at least I’m dressed for the North Pole. Puffy jacket. Hat. Boots. Someday I won’t have to leave the house looking like Mrs. Claus just because it’s December.
But tonight is not that day.
I swipe at the window, clearing a circle to see out onto the road. Hopefully somebody will drive by soon. If I hadn’t offered to give Shannon and Paige a ride home, I wouldn’t be in this predicament. The pub at The Beachfront Inn is where everyone meets up when they’re visiting for the holidays. But not everyone is okay to drive afterward.
Shannon and Paige definitely weren’t.
So I took a chance that there was enough gas in the Blue Whale to get Paige across town to her family’s farmhouse and Shannon up the mountain to her family’s cabin. The Blue Whale is what my brother and I call my mom’s old station wagon. The fuel gauge is broken. You’resupposedto keep track of the mileage.
The good news? There was enough gas to get them both home. The bad news happened on the way back to my parents’ place. That’s when the sputtering started, then the engine shuddered. I shifted into neutral, and we rolled to a stop. Just me and the Blue Whale. Now, stuck between the mountain and town, I can’t get a signal on my phone. So here I sit, seeing my breath, pounding the steering wheel.
Stupid.
The worst part? I’m actually pretty smart. I’ve got big goals for the future. In six short months, I’ll be leaving New York for good. And this move won’t just be for four years of undergrad at Rochester, or for the two years of nursing school after that. No, I’m leaving this state forever. By the end of the summer, I’ll be a transplant in the land of sunshine, living near Beau and Kasey. Hollywood movie stars in every Starbucks.
California, here I come.
For now, though, I just have to close my eyes and manifest getting out of this mess. And I must be great at this woo-woo stuff, because as soon as I picture a random tow truck showing up, I hear the rumble of an engine. A peek out the streaked window reveals a black Ford F-150. The truck pulls up past the Blue Whale slowly and parks in front of the station wagon.
It’s Brady Graham.
My stomach lurches.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful somebody showed up, but Brady’s the last person I want seeing me as some kind of damsel in distress. To be honest, something shifted the summer he and I decided my brother and his sister should be a couple. Working in secret with Brady made my insides flutter. And realizing he cared so much about Kasey and Beau’s happiness tugged at my heartstrings. Hard.
As it turns out, the guy I’d only thought of as Beau’s wise-cracking best friend is actually funny, clever, and kind. And ever since then, the air around us feels charged. Electric, even. When Brady’s near me now—which isn’t very often—I start to vibrate like a tuning fork. Still, even the most crackling chemistry can’t shrink the literal country that’s going to separate us soon. So yes, my brain knows nothing can happen with Brady.
But somebody needs to give a heads-up to my tuning fork.
I blow out another long breath, which unfortunately just fogs up the window again. Brady hops out of his truck, crunching along the snow bank on the side of the road. He’s in a winter coat and a gray wool beanie. A multicolored scarf loops around his neck.
Climbing out of the station wagon, I stomp my feet and clap my hands, praying for warmth. When Brady reaches me, a crease forms in his forehead, just below the beanie. “What happened here?” His breath is a plume between us. I imagine his mouth tastes like hot chocolate. I scrunch my nose, trying not to sniff him and hoping he can’t see me blush in the moonlight.
“I ran out of gas.”Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
He bobs his head. “Happens.” His voice is deep and gruff. I shiver, glancing up at his truck. It sure looks warm in there. He raps a gloved fist on the hood of the station wagon. “Well. Come on, then.”
I grab my purse and lock up the car. As we trudge toward his truck, he keeps a steadying hand at my lower back. When he opens the door to help me up, I find myself wishing he wasn’t wearing gloves. I hate driving with mittens on, so I left mine on the passenger seat.
Stupid.Stupid. Stupid.
After he goes around to the driver’s side and climbs up next to me, he meets my gaze across the cab. His eyes are bright, and a sweep of hair pokes out from his beanie.
“The gas station’s closed by now,” he says, “but I keep a spare gallon at my place.”
I tilt my head. “My dad does too.”
