Page 73 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
Liv shrieked beside me before diving through the car window, despite not having an actual body to soak. She turned to face us, a grimace on her face.
“Shit!” Dove growled, pausing to wipe her face as water poured from her now-soaked hair. Her space buns were limp and dripping. “I’m gonna lose this damn jack in the mud if I don’t finish fast.”
Without thinking, I sprinted to the trunk and looked around. My umbrella—still wrapped in its Velcro band—was thankfully sitting at the back. Neon yellow and wildly out of place beneath the blackened sky, but I didn’t care. I was relieved to see Dove had tossed our bags back inside after pulling out the tire-changing equipment.
I slammed the trunk shut and popped the umbrella open with a satisfyingwhoompthat barely rose above the pounding rain. Then I raced back to where Dove was crouched, still working furiously.
“Move over!” I shouted over the storm, rain slapping hard against the pavement.
She barely had a second to blink before I jammed the umbrella above her head, angling it awkwardly to shield her and the wheel as best I could.
“You’re going to get soaked,” she said, blinking rain from her lashes, expression slightly stunned.
“Too late,” I said dryly, already soaked through to the skin. She stared at me a second too long, mouth parted like she might say something, but thought better of it.
“Keep working,” I snapped. “This thing’s going to turn into a lake.”
She got back to it quickly, hands moving faster. The tire iron clinked against metal while I stood there, holding the umbrella, probably looking like a soggy idiot.
I glanced up and saw Liv’s face pressed to the glass, watching me with a grin. She pointed at Dove, then lifted her bicep and kissed it, before pointing at me and wiggling her eyebrows.
I snapped my eyes back to the tire.
Once Dove had the new one fixed in place, she gathered the tools and stood, panting slightly. I stepped back, still holding the umbrella above us both.
“All done,” she said, sounding breathless and proud. She grabbed the shirt she’d tucked into her pants and rubbed her hands on it, and I noticed they were now streaked with dirt.
We stared at each other for a moment, the umbrella between us sheltering just enough to feel oddly... intimate. Something fluttered low in my stomach, and her eyes searched mine before she spoke.
“Nice shirt,” she smirked. “Very National Geographic, if you ask me.”
I looked down with a frown, then gasped and spun around. My now-transparent top was doing me no favors in the department of decency, and Dove’s laugh echoed behind me as she hurriedly packed the tools into the trunk.
I quickly folded the umbrella and tossed it in the back, all the while holding my shirt away from my body as I rushed to the passenger seat. Rain now tapped loudly on the roof above us.
Liv cleared her throat. “Ellis, never hold an umbrella in the rain for someone you’re trying to deny you fancy. It’s practically a declaration of love.”
“Oh, shut up, Liv!” I hissed. “I don’tfancyher.”
“Okay,” Liv scoffed. “Tell that to your bright-red cheeks.”
Dove slid back into the car and immediately started it, flicking on the heater as she brushed damp strands of hair from her forehead. Mud streaked her leg, and a black stain still marked her wrist.
“I put the flat tire back where the good one was,” she told me. “We should look at getting it replaced as soon as we can, in case this shit happens again. Might need to special-order it, I’m not sure, but we could probably pick it up at one of our future stops.”
“Okay,” I murmured, holding my hands to the heater, still shivering.
“You need to change,” she said flatly, glancing over at me without missing a beat.
“What?” I blinked.
“You’re soaking wet,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You can’t sit in wet clothes for the next hour. It’s just asking for trouble. You’re on immunosuppressants, right? If you get a cold, it’s notjusta cold.”
My mouth opened, then closed again, a snarky, deflective response dying in my throat. Because she was right.
“The next gas station we stop at, you can change there,” Dove added. “I made sure your bag stayed as dry as possible. If we’re lucky, they might even have one of those depressing little blow dryers on the wall.”
I swallowed hard and looked down at myself, my shirt clung to every inch of skin, and my leggings were practically welded to me. I itched with discomfort, and a familiar tightness began to bloom in my chest. Not panic, exactly... just weight.
