until I’m blue in the face, but I’ll never get over it. I killed a man so easily, without even realizing what I’d done. I’ll carry this truth with me for the rest of my life. Maybe longer.
Ricardo drives me a few minutes away to an auto body shop tucked into the back of an industrial park. The painted logo on the corrugated metal reads, “Mo’s Auto Shop.”
I appraise the grungy building before turning in my seat to face Ricardo. “This is your idea of helping? This place looks like it hasn’t been cleaned ever.”
Ricardo throws an elbow over the steering wheel and chuckles as he meets my eyes. “It’s killing you that you’re not in the driver’s seat, isn’t it? Always have to be in control. Do you ever just relax?”
I cross my arms roughly over my chest, and my sweater dress bunches up around my elbows. “None of your business.”
He chuckles. “Thought so. Look. You stood by me back there, with my mom. Thanks for that, by the way. Let me help you out with this. Mo’s a decent guy. He can fix your car, no questions asked.”
I narrow my eyes in suspicion. “Why are you helping me? I’ve made it abundantly clear that I don’t like you.”
“No, you hate me, but so what?”
I look over the auto body shop again, and force my features out of a scowl. “Mo, huh?”
“Yeah.”
Securing my purse on my shoulder, I nod. “All right. Let’s go.”
I walk quickly ahead of Ricardo into the building. He may have driven here, but I’m the one in charge. I’m careful as I walk to keep any part of my person from touching the greasy walls. If I get any of the unidentified gunk on my clothes, I’ll have to burn them. And this is my favorite sweater dress.
Mo takes one look at my car before announcing that he can have the work done in three days. Two if I’m willing to pay extra.
“How much extra?” Ricardo asks, at the same time as I say, “Done.”
Mo nods, wiping his hands with a dingy cloth and tossing it aside. “I’ll go print out the work order. Have a seat in the waiting room.”
My heart is pumping at top speed as I sit gingerly on the edge of one of the seats in what Mo generously called the waiting room. It’s more like a glorified broom closet with faded art prints on the walls and two chairs shoved into not enough space.
I take deep breaths, feeling my diaphragm filling with air. I’m going to get lucky. This is going to be way easier than I thought. Once the car is fixed, I’ll be fine. I glance at Ricardo. I still don’t understand why he’s helping me, but I’m not going to argue about it. At least not right now.
As if sensing my eyes on him, Ricardo lifts his gaze to me, his lashes catching the light from the filmy window.
He studies me for a second, quiet. It makes unease crawl up my spine.
He must decide something, because his lips part. “Can I ask you something? What was it like? You know.”
My chest burns. He wants to know what it was like hitting a man with my car? The truth is, I don’t really know what to say. It wasn’t any worse than running over one of those obnoxious undulations some neighborhoods put in to keep people from driving too fast. My airbags didn’t even deploy. Actually, maybe I should have those looked at. They might be faulty.
“I’m not talking about this with you, or anyone for that matter.”
He simply shrugs. “Fine with me.” He sits back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the armrests. His head lists to one side as his eyebrows rise. Then he leans toward me again. “I’ve been thinking, why don’t we? Fake date, I mean. If my mom is going to be popping up at school and catching me off guard, I could use a buffer. You’re so bent on being the center of attention, you’d be good at that.”
I’m already shaking my head with displeasure. “First of all, that was rude. I am not that self-centered. And there is no way on earth I’m fake dating you, not even as a buffer for your mom. Adrienne would never believe I agreed to date you after all the crap I gave her last semester. Genevieve would never forgive me, even though she’s currently preoccupied with Kita Ryou. Put that thought out of