Roadside Assistance (21 page)

I stepped over to Zander, and he steered me out to the Jeep with his arm once again around my shoulder. I wondered if he enjoyed being close to me as much as I enjoyed his proximity, and worked to suppress a smile.

At the diner, we sat at a corner booth by the window and ordered cheeseburgers, fries, and Cokes. Once the server walked away, I leaned in and studied Zander’s eyes, summoning all of my emotional strength to ask him the question that had been haunting me since I found the letter from my mother.

“You look like you’re going to burst if you don’t say what’s on your mind,” Zander said with a smile.

I sighed. “There you go again, reading my mind.”

He laughed. “Just say it. You can speak freely with me.

We’re friends.”

I took a deep breath. “When you lost your grandfather,” I began slowly, “how did you deal with it?”

He sipped his Coke and ran his finger over the condensation on the glass. “It wasn’t easy. We were close. He was like my best buddy, you know?”

I knew exactly what he meant. My mom was more than just the woman who’d given birth to me. She was my best friend, my confidante. I shared everything with her. When Tyler broke up with me, I cried — mostly because I couldn’t share my heartache with her and hear her say, “Emily, he wasn’t worth your time. You’ll meet someone someday who will cherish you and treat you right,” like she’d told me when Bobby Matthews broke up with me.

“I would say that God got me through it,” Zander continued. “I still miss my grandpa, and sometimes I’ll see something that reminds me of him. But I hold onto my favorite Bible verses, and they help more than anything.”

I sipped my Coke and thought about the letter I’d found a few nights ago. I wanted to share it with Zander, but I was afraid it was too personal. Would he think I was weird for sharing it?

“Is there something else on your mind?” he asked, running his fingers over the table.

I paused, trying to find the words. “I found something a few nights ago while I was going through boxes.”

“What was it?”

I swirled the straw in my drink. “First I found my mother’s Bible. All of her favorite verses were highlighted in it.”

“That’s really cool.”

“There’s more.” I glanced up and found his warm expression
encouraging me, giving me the strength to share what was in my heart. “A letter was in the back of the Bible. It was addressed to me.”

“Wow.” His eyes widened.

I shared some of what the letter said, including the verse she quoted at the end. When I was finished, my eyes were full of tears and my voice was thick. I cleared my throat and wiped my eyes.

“That’s powerful,” he whispered. “It’s as if she and God were speaking directly to you.”

“I looked through the Bible and that verse I read in J2A last week was highlighted too.” I sipped my Coke, hoping the carbonation would help me reclaim my voice.

He shook his head. “That’s incredible. God’s really speaking to you. Remember what I told you: Open your heart. Don’t stop listening.”

The server brought our food. We ate in silence for a few minutes, and I let Zander’s words soak through me. While I understood his words about God speaking to me, I wasn’t certain I agreed, at least not completely. I
was
certain I didn’t want to push it and get into an argument. As I continued to ponder things, another question I’d been wondering about occurred to me, and I decided to ask it in order to change the subject.

“The other day at school,” I began, “you made a comment about college being a sore subject. What did that mean?”

He grunted while finishing a fry. “It’s a sore subject with my father. We have different ideas about my future.”

“Med school?” I asked.

“Well, we’ve come to an understanding on that. I’m not going to med school, and he needs to stop pushing. My grades last semester established that.” He took a bite of burger and was silent while he chewed. “Now he’s pushing about what kind of college I go to.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, pushing a few fries through the blob of ketchup on my plate.

“He wants me to go to the local university, but I want to go somewhere else.”

“Where do you want to go?” I asked, wondering why he was hesitating to tell me.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” He gave an apologetic smile.

Now I was truly intrigued. Did he want to be a minister? Is that why Whitney made that comment about Zander being the most harmless guy at Cameronville High?

“It’s a technical school.” He studied the burger on his plate. “It’s to learn how to build racecars and stuff.”

“You mean Motorsports Tech in Spencerville?” I asked, a smile growing on my lips. “I’ve heard of that place. It’s very cool.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, it is.”

I leaned forward, even more intrigued than before. “Why were you afraid to tell me that?”

“My dad and my brother think it’s a stupid dream. I guess I thought you might too.”

“Are you kidding me?” I laughed. “Why would I think it’s stupid? You know I’m into that kind of stuff.”

“Yeah, but how is building racecars a career?”

“How is it not a career?” I shook my head, wondering why Zander would think I wouldn’t support that decision. Then another thought hit me: Why was he so worried about my opinion? Did my opinion truly matter to him?

“So, what about you?” he asked, lifting his glass. “Where do you want to go to college?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea. There’s no money for college.”

“There’s always scholarship money,” he said. “I imagine you’re smart and will get some of it.”

“My grades are okay, but they’re not really honor-roll worthy. I’m pretty much a straight B kind of girl.”

“Straight Bs are nothing to sneeze at,” he said. “It’s way better than me. School was never my thing. I find it an extremely tedious waste of time that could be better spent in the garage.”

“I agree there.” I glanced out the window, thinking about what my plans had been before we lost Mom.

“What’s going through your mind now?” Zander asked.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” I asked.

He laughed. “I have no idea.”

“Sure you do.” I shrugged. “We all have hopes and dreams.”

He blew out a sigh. “I guess I see myself graduating from some type of mechanical school and maybe running a shop or working on a race team. How about you?”

“Before my mom died, I always thought I’d get a degree in business and then help my dad run his shop. Now, I just don’t know. I don’t even know where I’ll be living next year, but hopefully it won’t be in Whitney’s house.”

“Is it that bad?” he asked, his expression sympathetic.

“No,” I said with a grin. “I guess I don’t mind the guy next door with the cool garage.”

“So, you’re using me for my garage.”

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

He cupped his hand over his heart and feigned a dramatic sigh. “You got me right here in the heart.”

I laughed and tossed my napkin at him.

chapter fourteen

I
waved to Zander across the cafeteria, and he grinned and waved back while taking his place at the end of the food line. He gestured to ask if I wanted a drink, and I nodded before sinking into the seat across from Chelsea.

“So, are you guys, like, officially dating yet?” Chelsea asked, shaking her container of chocolate milk.

“No.” I pulled my sandwich and pear from my bag.

Chelsea’s eyes studied me. “Has he confessed his feelings yet?”

“No.” I shook my head and unwrapped my sandwich. “We’re friends. That’s it.” Although lately, I wasn’t entirely sure.

Chelsea’s eyes probed my face, and a grin turned up her lips. “Has he kissed you?”

“No!” My cheeks flushed. “We’re friends, Chelsea. How many times do I have to tell you that? We’re
just friends.”

“Yeah. Right.” She rolled her eyes. “For more than a month now you’ve been riding to and from school with him. You spend nearly every night in his garage helping him rebuild his car or working on your dad’s truck. You’re riding to and from church and youth group with him. If that isn’t a relationship, then I don’t know what is.” She sipped her chocolate milk.

“It’s a really good friendship.” I bit my sandwich. “Okay, so maybe it’s more like a best friendship since we talk about nearly everything.”

Chelsea grimaced with frustration. “Emily, are you blind? You guys are the perfect couple.”

“No, we’re not. We’re very different.” I polished my pear with a napkin. “We just like some of the same things, like cars, movies, and music.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you see? He really likes you.”

“Yes, he does.” I tapped the table for emphasis. “As a
friend.
If he liked me more than that, then he would’ve kissed me by now.” I wished she were right. Oh, how I’d love to be kissed by Zander …

“He won’t kiss you if you’re giving him mixed signals. You probably haven’t shown him that you
want
to be kissed.” She bit into her club sandwich.

My stomach flip-flopped at the thought. I did want to show Zander how I felt, but the idea of confessing that I had really strong feelings for him scared me, especially when I wasn’t exactly certain what I felt. I liked him as more than a friend, but it was much more complicated than that. There was no way I could even put that into words.

I spotted Zander approaching with a tray full of food and two bottles of tea. He grinned and my heart fluttered. Perhaps Chelsea was right, and Zander wanted to date me. And that thought terrified me. Was I willing to risk our friendship?

While I was scared about getting hurt again, I was more scared of losing Zander for good. It wasn’t ever possible to go back to being friends after dating a guy. Once it was over, it was over for good. I would’ve rather been his friend and secretly wished for more than risk losing his friendship all together.

Another broken heart would be too much.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Zander said, handing me an iced tea and sitting in the chair to my right “How’s your day going?”

“Thanks,” I said, shaking the bottle. “The day is going well. Chels?”

“Just fine.” She smirked at me and I shot her a warning glance.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Zander asked me, unwrapping his sub sandwich. He opened a packet of mustard and squeezed it over the ham and cheese.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I was planning to work on the Dodge or finish the AC in my dad’s truck.”

“I think I know something even more fun that we can do,” he said, lifting the sandwich.

“What’s that?” I looked at Chelsea, who was grinning again. I kicked her under the table and she grumbled and glared at me in response.

“It’s Halloween,” he said.

“Huh?” I said. “Halloween is Monday.”

“Right, but we’re invited to a costume party on Saturday.” He turned to Chelsea. “You’re invited too.”

“Thanks for the invitation, but I can’t make it.” She lifted a potato chip. “I promised my mom I’d babysit so she and my stepdad can go to a party. She never gets to go out alone with my stepdad.”

“Where’s your party?” I asked Zander.

“Kristin’s house.” He nodded toward Whitney’s table, where Whitney and her group were talking and laughing loudly. They’d stopped staring at us a few weeks ago; I assumed they’d realized Zander had taken up permanent lunchtime residence at my table, and they simply had to accept it.

“Kristin’s, huh?” I frowned, contemplating the idea of spending Halloween with Whitney’s friends.

“Is that a problem?” Zander lifted his eyebrows.

“No,” I said quickly, lifting my bottle of tea.

“It’ll be fun,” he said. “Kristin’s parties are never dull.”

“You should go,” Chelsea said. “Trust me, you’ll enjoy it.”

“Whoops,” Zander said, standing. “I forgot mayo. You guys need anything?”

Chelsea and I shook our heads.

“I’ll be right back.” Zander sauntered back toward the kitchen area, and I silently admired his tight jeans.

Snapping out of my trance, I looked at Chelsea. “I can’t go to that party without you,” I said. “There’s no way.”

“Don’t be silly.” She waved off the comment. “You can do anything with Zander by your side. You’ll be the envy of the party.”

I shook my head. “Too much pressure.”

“Do you trust me?” Chelsea’s smile was wide.

“I don’t know … Should I?”

“Yes.” She placed her sandwich on the tray. “I have the
perfect
costume for you. We used it last year at the community theater. I can make you so beautiful that Zander Stewart will fall head over heels for you and kiss you Saturday night.”

I grimaced. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Trust me, Emily.” Chelsea’s eyes were bright with excitement. “I’ll come over early Saturday night and do your hair and makeup. You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

I grimaced. “It’s just a Halloween party.”

“Just trust me, Emily. You’ll thank me later.” She winked. “You’ll get your first kiss from Zander — guaranteed.”

“I don’t see how a costume —”

“Just trust me, Emily.
Please.”
She folded her hands, pleading. “Please let me dress you up. You won’t regret it.”

“This better not be something really over the top. You know I hate makeup.” Something about the gleam in Chelsea’s eye had me worried.

“Just let me dress you up this one time. Then I promise I won’t do it again until your wedding.”

“Wedding?” I rolled my eyes. “Chelsea, please.”

Zander approached the table. “What were you two talking about?” He sat down beside me and opened the mayonnaise packet.

“The perfect costume for Emily,” Chelsea said, looking proud. “I’m going to make her up Saturday night.”

“Cool.” He smiled. “So we’re going, right?”

“I’m warning you, I don’t do Halloween parties.” I bit into the pear.

“She’ll be there. I’ll make sure of that,” Chelsea said with a smile.

I inwardly groaned. What was I getting into?