brush off someone’s intolerance of me. It’s like I somehow deserve their acceptance simply by existing. There’s something wrong inside of me that needs fixing, and I can pinpoint it down to my lack of flexibility. Hence the rebelessons.”
He blows out a breath across his hot cocoa, the steam rising from his cup into the night sky. “All for a guy.”
“Yes,” I say with conviction, but the look on his face makes me want to take it back. “Maybe. He’s part of it.” All true. If it weren’t for his flat out ‘you’re not my type,’ I wouldn’t have realized just how much I’m nobody’s type.
“Have you never been rejected before?” Pete twists toward me, hitching his leg up on the bench. His knee grazes my thigh, sending a comforting yet surprising wave of uncertainty through me.
“Never had the chance.” Before Zach, I never put myself out there. High school I was known as the Virgin Mary. Most guys sought after me as a challenge—gag—and I never gave them the time of day. The guys I did like told me flat out what a nark I was. College was a chance to start anew, but I can’t seem to find my footing, and it’s been two years. “Like I said, being good ol’ Candace is lonely.”
Pete’s brow furrows, his lips turning downward. He turns toward the gorgeous holiday scene we have before us, and for once, I seem to have struck him speechless.
Disappointment crawls through my stomach like a tiny bug snacking on kitchen leftovers. Pete’s always up for an argument, but when it comes to telling him how off-putting my personality is, he’s got nothing up his sleeve.
“If it’s any consolation,” he says, breaking the silence and squashing that bug in my stomach, “even at your most annoying, I’ve always liked you.”
“Even when I pester you about this?” I tap his forearm where I know his tattoo rests underneath the layers of fabric. “Or your hat? Or your shirt that is never tucked in? I swear you do it just to irritate me.”
“Candace…” He shakes his head. “I only give crap to people I like.”
“Wow. You must like me a lot.”
“Very true.” He casts his gaze to the clouds, the corners of his mouth pulling down. “We should probably get your car.”
“Huh?” My brain is stuck on what he said before. He likes me a lot? Like how much is a lot?
“Looks like snow.” He pushes up from the bench and lends a hand. “Bikes and icy roads aren’t fun, even for more experienced riders.”
“Can I finish my cocoa?” I lift my half-full cup.
“Two more sips.”
“Now who’s the hardass,” I mutter, and his eyes pop open wide, and I slam my hand over my mouth.
“You just said ass.”
“I know!” Look at me go with all this rule breaking.
“Gertrude has truly changed you.”
We laugh together, and we probably sound awful to any passersby—him with his baby hyena, and me with my snort. I take three sips, because I’m a rebel now, and then I strap on his helmet. I’m ready for Gertrude to change me even more.
Pete
I flop down onto the stuffy couch in the break room, rubbing my eyes and throwing my Troublemakers cap off and onto the middle cushion. If I’m lucky, I can get a twenty minute nap in before my next shift. These doubles are killing me, not to mention the time I’m spending with Candace. Over the weekend I spent every waking hour next to her—or pressed together with her—and I didn’t realize until far too late that I missed out on much-needed sleep.
Mondays are her days off, so I’ve been Candace-less all day, and my energy is at an all-time low. Didn’t help that my first shift was the kiddie rides. School is officially out, so we’re crazy busy, and I was manning the bumper cars for two hours before I finally got switched to the carousel. There’s a pedal on the floor I have to step on for the bumper cars to work, and now there’s a major cramp in my foot.
I throw my head back against the couch and let my eyelids drop shut. I should set my timer, but I can’t seem to find the motivation to dig into my pocket.
Like a sign from God to stop being so damn lazy, my phone vibrates against my upper thigh. I let out a sigh and ignore it for a good two rings before my arm listens to the command to answer the