Page 30 of Female Fantasy
“The tailgate is dented and there’s something leaking from the bottom of the truck. We need to get it to a shop ASAP.”
My heart sinks. If this little fender bender takes more than a few hours to fix, we’ll have to look into alternate ways of getting into New York.
If we make it today at all.
“And the bad news?” I’m almost afraid to ask.
“We’re about an hour and a half from the closest body shop. The mechanic says it could take double that for a tow to show up. We could be waiting here for a while.”
I stick my head out the window and let out a primal yell. “Furnace, help me!” I shout. “Why did we break down in the middle of Guam?”
Nico scowls. “Next time, I’ll try to crash the car somewhere more convenient.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Preferably near a Starbucks or something.”
“Also,” he says. “Furnace?”
I roll my eyes. “ATOSAS reference,” I say. “Duh. Read a book.”
Nico studies me for a second. “Don’t worry, Joon. I’ll get you there. Promise.”
“Yeah, well…” I glare up at him. “Your promises don’t mean much to me these days.”
He stares at me for a beat, confusion etched into his forehead. Then he pulls out his phone and opens up an app before groaning softly. I watch as he refreshes it over and over again, to no avail.
“Do you have service?”
I check. “Only a single bar. Probably just enough to call someone, but not to Google or stream or whatever. How is that even possible? I literally just checked the ATOSAS message boards.”
“There must be an outage or something,” he says. “This is a nightmare. What are we supposed to do for three hours?”
“We could play I Spy.”
“No.”
“You could tell me your deepest, darkest secrets.”
“Tempting. But no.”
“I could read to you?”
The corner of his mouth ticks up at that suggestion. “You haven’t memorized those books of yours by now?”
“I could probably freestyle the first few chapters.”
He chuckles. Then his expression darkens, a shadow passing over it. “Can I ask you a question without you doing that thing where you get all mad?”
I roll my eyes. “That’s like saying,Don’t be offended, before saying something offensive.”
“Well, then, don’t be offended.”
The smoke outside of the truck begins to dissipate, wafting off into the forest. Nico sits back inside. He leans over in his seat, throwing an arm around the steering wheel. I try to ignore the way his biceps casually flex. The sight is practically NSFW.
Nico sucks, my brain reminds my body.We do not have dirty thoughts about Nico.
Unfortunately, it appears to not matter who the arm in question is attached to.
Sexy is sexy.
