Page 61 of Fresh Canvas
Rolling my eyes, I huffed. “Just get in.” The cab was warm, the luxury leather seat giving as I sat down.
Amantha remained by the passenger door, rain continuing to pour over her head. I leaned over and pushed her door open.
“What are you waiting for?”
She bent to survey the interior. “It’s just so…clean. I wouldn’t want to get your seat wet, or leave a footprint, or breathe too loudly, or?—”
“Would you shut up and get in the car?”
“Fine.” Pleased by her mischief, Amantha slid inside and buckled herself.
“Here.” I fished blindly in the backseat and handed her a jacket. Something flickered in her expression before she quietly accepted it. Amantha gave me her address, which I typed into the GPS.
The car ride was silent. I tried to ignore the aroma that permeated the enclosed air. Amantha mingled with rainwater was an intoxicating, heady scent. I risked a glance at her. Her knees were curled against her chest, blanketed by my navy fleece jacket. She was watching the water stream down her window. I turned left as the GPS instructed me to.
“Why do you have bowling shoes?”
I found Amantha looking at the back seat. “Because I like to bowl?”
“And you’re too good to rent the normal-people shoes?”
“I don’t need to confirm what you already know.” I checked my blind spot.
“So, you agree. You’re better than everyone?”
“Glad to finally be on the same page.” I shot her my most charming smile and maneuvered the sleek car in front of Amantha’s building. I shifted into park, but Amantha didn’t move a muscle. Instead, she sat chewing on her lip, gazing out the windshield.
I shut off the engine. Rain pattered on the roof, and the dim street lamps did little to illuminate the cab. I waited, content to sit there for the rest of the night if she’d let me.
Amantha pulled the elastic from her ponytail as damp waves fell down her back. She fiddled with the elastic and stared at her fingers.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“About the form we found?”
“About everything.”
“We’ll make a plan. You’re not in this alone, remember?” I wanted to brush her hand, catch her chin—anything to convey how serious I was.
Amantha continued to twirl the hair tie.
“Is there somethingIcan do?” The sincerity of my question surprised even myself.
“Would you mind? I mean if you have time…” Amantha trailed off. After a moment, she squared her shoulders and blurted, “Would you be okay coming upstairs for a bit? I promise it won’t take long, and I don’t want it to be weird, but I’m kind of panicking about work tomorrow. I’m the worst actress, I can’t tell Kate or my Mom, and I just don’t want to be alone right now…” The last part came out hushed.
A slight intake of breath parted my mouth.
Amantha didn’t notice; her hair tie was too busy twisting itself into knots. The request sounded intimate and vulnerable, and only a flick of her gray eyes betrayed her nerves.
“Of course,” I breathed.
seventeen
VAL
Amantha’s building was old, but clean. The stairwell smelled of industrial cleaners and the faint scent of a pizza delivery. Having insisted that Amantha keep my jacket, I followed her navy form.
A nervous tug in my stomach increased with each floor we climbed. Thankfully, she stopped on the third floor. Unlocking the door, Amantha glanced over her shoulder at me.
