Page 83 of I'm Gonna Get You Back
Kenji rolls down his window. “Looking hot, milady.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Reducing carbon emissions,” Kenji says.
She twists her lips, trying not to smile. Thank god Kenji has that effect. Mitchell leans well across him to yell out his window at her. “Be the change, Clara. Get in.”
Still she hesitates.
“You know parking sucks at the amphitheater,” Mitchell goads.
She looks as though she may be considering it when her eyes dart to me in the back seat.
Get in. Please get in.
“Fine,” she huffs. She gathers her gear and marches over to the otherside of the car and slides into the back seat next to me. Her flowery scent has me gripping my hands tighter. She doesn’t look at me, instead turning away to stare out her window. Not great. But she got in when she didn’t have to, knowing she’d be sitting beside me.
It’s a start.
Kenji continues the Shakespeare talk the rest of the ride to the amphitheater just outside of downtown, but I notice Mitchell is significantly less enthusiastic about the game.
God, I wish I could just reach for her. Grab her hand and pull her close andfixthis. But neither of us speak the entire drive, and the air becomes so taut between us by the time we arrive, Kenji and Mitchell practically leap out of the car. They busy themselves with getting the stuff from the trunk.
Clara reaches for the door handle.
“Wait,” I say. “Please.”
She freezes. She doesn’t look at me, but she doesn’t get out, either. Something heavy hangs in the silence. That fortress of hers I can’t ever seem to break through. “I just—I know you blocked me, but I wanted you to know that—just that I’m still in for the doc if—if, um, you need me.” My words are halting. Stumbling. Because something about this moment feels like we could really be broaching an ending. I hold my breath waiting for her response.
“I talked to Delaney.”
My eyebrows rise.
“I’m sorry for not hearing you out.” She finally looks at me. “I should’ve—” She stops, her gaze landing on my shirt. The mix of bewilderment and delight in her expression makes the hour in my dusty garage worth it. “You arenotwearing that.”
“I’m not?” I ask, looking down at my neon pinkBOP TIL YOU DROPshirt that barely fits. I loop a finger into the collar and tug, trying to stretch the cotton away from my throat. “Pretty sure I am. And in public.”
Her laugh is wild. Radiant.“Why?”
Our eyes meet briefly, and her eyebrows come together in question. But she’s flushed, which is all the encouragement I need to be as honest as I can. “You asked me to.”
She blinks at me, disbelieving. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“Hard to forget the way you laughed at homecoming when we talked about it. Your hair was down just like this.” My gaze roves over the dark waves that I used to clutch in my fist when we kissed. “And I knew then that I’d do anything you asked—even wear this ridiculous shirt—if it made you laugh like that.”
Her eyes dig into mine, green and fierce.
A quick rap on the window startles us both.
Kenji leans down to peer in at us, his voice muffled. “Hellooo? Have you kissed and made up yet? Because we need to go find a spot.”
I glare at him, and he backs away slowly. But with the moment officially broken, we both climb out. Kenji’s and Mitchell’s arms are full with supplies for the picnic, and they both offload a few of them to me.
Clara clears her throat and turns to me as we walk. “What you said about helping with the doc—can I ask you for a favor tonight?”
“Anything.”
“I think it might be Amaya making the posts.”
