The Perfect Escape (The Perfect Escape #1) - Suzanne Park Page 0,25
drawer anymore?). He’d return everything, or worse, throw it all away to make a point, and I couldn’t do that to Nate.
As we approached my house, my body tensed. Nate pulled into the top of my driveway again. Thanks to the tall evergreens, privacy shrubs, and two iron gates, Nate couldn’t see that much other than my mailbox.
He shrugged. “Sure. I’ll sort out our two backpacks this week and distribute the weight between us.” With some hesitation, he continued. “Can you carry a pretty heavy load? I mean, you’re kinda small.”
Two ways to answer this came to mind. Both made me look a little crazy.
I’m small? Why, thank you! I try to eat sensibly when I don’t eat Dick’s Hamburgers.
I’m small? How dare you assume I can’t carry as much shit as a dude?
I responded a third way, with my signature awkward approach. I ignored his comment.
“You can drop me off here. Thanks for the ride. So much cheaper than taking an Uber back.”
“Did you get everything this time? No more wigs in my car?” He smirked.
I slapped his arm. “Hey! That’ll never happen again, lest I be punished by the tiny glitter glue goddess again.” Lest? Did I just say lest?
Nate rubbed his right bicep. “Damn, woman! Go Hulk-smash someone else!” His dark brown eyes gleamed as he teased me. Did he hear my heart thundering? Trying to Hulk-smash out of my rib cage?
Ba-BOOM. Ba-BOOM. Nate KIM. Nate KIM.
Look, heart, I see what you’re trying to do here, but I have other priorities on my mind.
“I’ll see you at work,” I said, opening his car door.
“We should talk before then, to discuss competition logistics. I looked up the contest details, and the competition’s getting a lot of press. Like, the Discovery Channel is sponsoring it. It’s a bigger deal than I thought.”
I chewed my lip. “Okay, message me then, Mister Logistics.”
“That can be my code name. We need one for you, though.” Excitement flashed on his face. “Hulk Smash!” He said it so winningly.
I hopped out and waved bye. He rolled down the window, and “Holly Jolly Christmas” blared from his tinny car speakers. “Hey, I set the last button to your favorite music station, the one that plays holiday music unseasonably early!” he shouted.
Holiday music, for me! As Nate and the Christmas cheer rolled away, I ran down the driveway and punched in the key code, then at the next gate used the finger pad and face scanner. In the camera, I stuck my tongue out and crossed my eyes.
UNAUTHORIZED, the security panel flashed on the screen.
I made my face go back to normal while flipping two birds at the camera.
AUTHORIZED. ANDERSON, KATE.
The front door clicked open and robot Jeeves rolled up to greet me. “Bioscan time, the first one this month.”
“Hello to you, too, Jeeves.” Yay, my routine bioscan. This used to be manually done by the family doctor, but hooray, now Dad had developed the tech to do basic health monitoring at home. And I was his guinea pig.
I hung up my hoodie and went to the kitchen, where the bioscan machine was set up. It looked like one of those blood pressure and oxygen monitoring machines that the nurse rolls up to the examination table at the doctor’s office, and was connected via Wi-Fi to Jeeves’s servers. “Temperature, normal,” Jeeves said as the device took my vitals. “Systolic and diastolic, normal. Heart rate, elevated. Far above normal. Would you like me to call an ambulance?”
Call an ambulance for my Nate-KIM-Nate-KIM heartbeat? Oh God, no.
“Jeeves, I’m fine. Don’t call the paramedics. Please don’t!” Stupid robot! How embarrassing would that be?
“Heart rate steadily dropping. Verbal command confirmed. I will not call paramedics. Uploading health data to your medical file.”
Thank God. Crisis averted.
“Excessive perspiration has been added to your file. Possible related health conditions include hyperhidrosis, heart attack, or overactive thyroid. Please let me know if you need me to call nine-one-one.”