court panel in drag. Dress for school like you dressed at the Hideaway. You looked like a totally different person that night.”
My cheeks flush and my heart thuds against the wall of my chest.
I follow him to the next vehicle, which is a truck and doesn’t require a jack, so we both shimmy under, and this time I unscrew the nut and drain the oil.
I groan as the oil spills over my hand.
“That’s it,” he says. “Waylon Brewer getting messy.”
“Literally the opposite of everything I aspire to.”
As we’re standing up, I point to Mr. Higgins’s car. “Why do we men always name our cars and boats and inanimate objects after women? Beulah, Xena, Delilah.”
“Well, I can tell you what my mama would have said about that. She always said men made their objects women because the only thing we teach boys about girls is that they’re objects.”
I nod thoughtfully. “I think your mom was onto something. Lucky for Beulah, I would never objectify a woman.”
We take on the next car, an old minivan with wood paneling.
“I’ll take this one,” Tucker says. “These older cars can be tricky.”
“I won’t argue you on that,” I say.
While he’s cranking the jack, he says, “So you’re a twin? What’s that like?”
I shake my head. “Only the best and worst thing in the world.”
He laughs. “How so?”
“Well, we want to be together all the time, but then it’s like always being with someone who knows you a little too well and feeling like you can’t even be spontaneous sometimes. And then every decision I make takes Clem into account.” I slide the tray under the car for him while he crawls under. “But then sometimes she doesn’t do the same for me . . . I don’t know, it’s complicated. We’re so codependent, but I also wouldn’t change us for anything.”
“What do you mean, she doesn’t do the same for you?”
I launch into the entire story about Clem and college and keeping it all a secret from me, and when I’m done Tucker emerges from beneath the van with a few more stains than he had going in.
He sits there on the pavement for a moment with his arms propped up on his knees. “That’s tough.”
“What can I say? My Clementine knows what she wants.”
“But what do you want?” asks Tucker. “To go to Austin?”
I laugh bitterly. “Me? I knew what I wanted. She’s the one that changed course without even telling me.”
He shrugs. “You could go to Georgia with her.”
“. . . I could.” I reach a hand out to help him up and he takes it, but once he’s standing he doesn’t let go.
We stand, eye to eye, close enough for me to smell the coffee on his breath. “But you won’t,” he says.
“I don’t really like the idea of following her out there, if you get what I mean.”
He smirks. “Yeah, you don’t strike me as a follower.”
I pout and cross my arms, yanking my hand free of his. “It’s just really shitty of her.”
“God, Waylon, maybe this isn’t even about your sister.” He rolls his eyes.
“I’m sorry, but are you frustrated with my feelings about my own life?”
He shakes his head and walks off.
“Say it!” I yell to him. “You can’t roll your eyes at me and then say it’s nothing.”
He whirls around and throws his arms up. “You have cool-ass parents. They’re not on you about your future, and you can basically do anything you want with your life. Your sister changed plans without telling you and that sucks. I get it. But you’re not stuck here.”
“Like you?” I ask. “Sorry,” I say immediately. “That sounded shittier than I meant it to.”
He nods. “It’s fine,” he says with a gruff voice. “It’s true.”
“I’m sorry.” And I really am. I don’t know Tucker’s whole story, but based on what I do know, my grass is definitely greener. “My mom calls it a complaining spiral. I start and I can’t stop and even if there is a bright side, it’s hard for me to see.”
He shakes his head. “You should be able to be upset. That really does suck about Clementine lying to you. I think you’re really cool and . . . I think one day I’ll get to tell people that I knew you before you were an even bigger deal than you are now.”
“You think I’m a big deal?” I ask, my gaze searching for his until he looks up with that slight smirk and our eyes meet.