Kiss To Forget (Blairwood University #2) - Anna B. Doe Page 0,45
then at me before her eyes make the same path once again.
“What? No, you don’t need…”
“Give me the keys, Yasmin,” I say, this time firmer.
“But, you don’t…” She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll have somebody go and take a look at it. It’s not a problem.”
She starts to reach for the door handle, but I put my hand on hers, stopping her. A zap of electricity goes from her hand straight into mine, making me inhale sharply. Her eyes grow wide. Can she feel it too? This connection, this bond, between us?
“You’d be doing me a favor, really. I need…” I clear my throat. “I need to do something. Get lost in something, if only for a little while.”
“Nixon…”
My grip around her wrist tightens. “Give me this. Please. Give me this chance to forget, if only for a little while.”
Yasmin looks at me for what seems like forever. My heart is beating hard in my chest, until she finally gives in and nods once.
“Okay.” With her free hand, she pulls the key out of her pocket and hands it to me. Just when I’m about to grab it, she pulls it back. “But you have to tell me if and how much anything costs. I won’t have you paying for my shit.”
“Fine,” I agree quickly. Maybe a little too quickly, because she gives me a warning glare. But this time when I try to reach for the keys, she lets go.
“I mean it, Cole. No funny business.”
“How bad is it?” I ask, leaning down to look at the engine before turning my gaze on Zane. He’s been helping Hayden’s uncle at the garage and out of all of us, he knows the most about cars.
“Except that it’s falling apart, you mean?” Zane grumbles, his hand digging around… something.
Okay, I might have overexaggerated the part when I said I know my shit around cars. I know some basic stuff. Changing a flat tire or the oil? No problem. But this seemed like a task for a pro.
“Her starter is dead.”
“That’s why it didn’t turn on yesterday,” I state the obvious.
“Right. She could also change her filters and oil while she’s at it. I doubt it’s been changed in the last decade.”
“Anything else?” Zane mutters a few more things that need changing. “Will it make this piece of shit more reliable?”
He turns to me, his face flat. “Well, it’ll push it for a little bit longer. Reliable? I wouldn’t go that far.”
Sighing, I run my hand through my hair. I didn’t think so. Where did she get that thing, anyway? Junkyard, most likely.
“Okay. Can you patch it up, or should I take it to the shop?”
His brows shoot up. “All of this?”
“All of this.”
“Does Yasmin know you’re doing it?”
“Of course.” He gives me a look. “Okay, not really, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?”
She can’t drive around in something that will most likely get her stranded again soon, or maybe even something worse.
Zane holds my gaze for a while longer before shrugging. “It’s your deathbed, dude.”
Chapter Eighteen
YASMIN
The bell above the front door rings just as I push the kitchen door with my hip, carrying a tray of goodies in each of my hands. The late afternoon rush has just ended so I decided to stock the front window with what we have left before I head out for the day and leave Monica alone to close the shop.
“What can I—” The words die on my lips as I catch sight of the person standing on the other side of the counter. “Nixon, what are you doing here?”
A smile flashes on his lips, making my heart flutter.
What the hell is with that?
My heart does not flutter. Especially not for obnoxious, arrogant, thinks-he’s-God’s-gift-to-women football players.
We haven’t talked at all since the day he took me to his house, and I found out about his family. He came to get me once his conversation with his mom and sister ended, and soon after we were on our way back to campus. Helen asked me to come back soon, but I avoided making any promises since the chances of me ever going back are nonexistent. Nixon and I aren’t friends, we’re barely acquaintances. There isn’t any reason for me to go back.
The ride back to campus was quiet. Nixon was stuck in his own mind, and I decided to let him be. I haven’t asked what they talked about, and he hasn’t offered. Not that I expected anything else.