Sweet Nothing by Jamie McGuire

  "I mean ... I guess," she said, unimpressed. "His tight ass probably doesn't hurt either."

  "Why are we still here? I need to get home and figure out what the hell I'm wearing."

  "Why? You're going to bail. You always bail." She started the car and tapped the buttons on the radio.

  "Not this time."

  She wasn't convinced. "Twenty bucks says you'll call him by seven thirty and tell him you're sick. You hate dates, and you're going to come to your senses about McPanties by quittin' time tomorrow and develop a sudden case of the Hershey squirts."

  I lifted my chin. "Fine. Twenty bucks. I'm going on this date, even if my anxiety goes nuts."

  She clicked her tongue, backing out of her parking spot. "You should just give me the money now."

  I was too amped to sleep after scoring a date with Avery, so I began to prepare.

  Behind my apartment, in a brick shack that leaned slightly to the left, I stared at my battered and bruised car, Mabeline.

  Compared to Avery's matchbox car, mine had stood up against the small impact. Muscle cars were built that way, to be tough. Cars today crumbled like a wadded up tissue. I saw it every single day, and most people weren't nearly as lucky as Avery. That girl was her own rabbit's foot or ... I reached up and gripped the penny beneath my shirt that I had found on my floorboard right before our impact.

  Sinking down on my haunches, I wiped my hand over the baby-shit-green paint that had marred the front left fender.

  "What did she do to you?" I did my best to brush away the flecks of paint before standing, blowing out a heavy breath. Avery's Prius was part of Mabeline now. They couldn't be more different, but now they shared the same story. I could buff the hell out of it and repaint, but I kind of liked the smudge from Avery. She'd left her mark on me, too.

  "Looks like I need to make a trip down to the junkyard and find you a new headlight. You are in no shape to take on a date."

  Digging my phone from my pocket, I swiped my finger over the screen so I could check the time. The junkyard wouldn't be open for a few more hours, and if I knew Bud, he wouldn't be pulling parts until he walked his partner, Dusty, down to Emerson's Country store to get his morning coffee.

  If I left early, I could grab us some joe on the way and maybe get Bud moving with a breakfast sandwich. I only had one day to get everything in order.

  I wasn't worried, though. I had practically built Mabeline with my own two hands over the past six years. She had been my dream car since I was a boy, and I knew every inch of her frame. I could have her looking as good as new in no time. I'd always enjoyed working with my hands and fixing things, people included. As an added bonus, it was cheaper than therapy. There was hardly anything a little grease and hard work couldn't cure.

  I rolled my neck from shoulder to shoulder, relishing in the relief from stretching my tight neck muscles. I was still sore from the accident, and I wondered why Avery didn't seem to be in any pain at all. I was actually looking forward to figuring her out.

  The hardest part would be planning our date. Avery probably hadn't set the bar very high for me. Like any confident, sensible woman, she had taken one look at my scruffy face and grease-stained hands and seen trouble. But she was wrong about me.

  Pulling open the driver side door, I slipped inside my car and turned the key. Stepping on the gas pedal, I made her roar, relieved that the only damage seemed to be cosmetic.

  The drive across town was peaceful. Bud owned a large swath of property just outside Philadelphia, and even though the city was close by, it felt like another world. Amish buggies clogged the roads as they made their way to their vegetable markets, the relentless summer heat failing to slow them down.

  I waved as I passed an older man who held the reins. Nodding, his beard rubbed against his plain, hand-sewn shirt.

  The horse didn't startle as my engine roared louder, thanks to its blinders that kept it focused on the road ahead.

  Slowing as I crossed three small hills, I turned down the old dirt drive to Bud's junkyard. I hadn't lived in Pennsylvania long, but Bud was one of the first people I'd met when I'd arrived in town with an oil leak and no place to stay. He had let me crash on his couch until I was able to find an apartment and a new start.

  "Didn't think you'd be up." I closed my car door behind me before I crossed the dusty lot.

  Bud was inside a rickety carport, wiping the grease from his hands onto an old rag. "Timing's off." He pointed to the old beat up Chevy in front of him. "Get in and let me use the timing gun."

  Slipping inside the car, I turned the key, revving the engine while I waited for Bud to give me the signal. After a few curse words, he slammed the hood closed and I got out, shaking my head.

  "What brings you to my neck of the woods so early?" He didn't even glance up at me as he spoke.

  "Mabeline has seen better days." We both walked toward my car, and I leaned into the driver's window, pulling out the two coffees and fast food breakfast.

  "Aw hell, son. What did you do?" He snatched a coffee from my hand and began to drink the scolding liquid without as much as a thank-you. I stifled a laugh as it dribbled down his three-day scruff and blended into the stains of his old gray T-shirt.

  "Got in a fight with a Prius."

  Bud's eyes widened before he shook his head. "I'd hate to see how that faired against this beast."

  "You think I can pull a headlight?"

  "I'll have Russel grab it for you and you can pick it up when you stop by again."

  "Actually, I need it today. I have ... plans later."

  "She must be something special if you're fixing to pick her up in Mabeline."

  I didn't answer, trying to hide my smirk by drinking a sip of coffee, and burning my lip in the process.

  "You know where everything is," he mumbled as he grabbed the bag of food from my hand and retreated to the dilapidated single-wide trailer at the edge of the lot.

  Hours had passed, and my body was coated in sweat and grime, but Mabeline was parked outside my apartment, finally looking like her old self. I slipped into my shower, moaning as the cold water cascaded over my tired, tender muscles. Avery and our date drifted into my thoughts as I scrubbed off the hard work of the day. I expected her to give me shit about every detail throughout the night, so everything had to be perfect.

  I'd already picked out a royal-blue button-down and dark blue jeans. I didn't own Italian shoes like Doc Rose, but I could still clean up pretty nice. After shaving my face, I almost looked like the type of guy a girl could take home to her mother. Almost.

  I hurried through getting ready and put down a plate of food for Dax before heading out the door.

  I knew Avery would be exhausted after her shift, so dancing was out of the question, no matter how badly I wanted to feel her body pressed against mine again.

  Damn it. I pulled into the lot twenty minutes early. The sun had already vanished behind the tall buildings, and the muted wail of an ambulance in the distance helped muffle the hammering of my heart. Am I actually nervous? I'd never cared about impressing a girl before, and the feeling was so foreign, I contemplated calling the entire thing off. But when Avery stepped outside the hospital in jeans that hugged her slight curves and a fitted white tank top, I knew I couldn't back out. Leaning back against my car door, I shoved my hands into my pockets and waited for the moment her gaze met mine.

  When she noticed me, the dimples deepened in her cheeks. A few of my buddies from LifeNet had described feeling a bolt of electricity, and I had made fun of them, but that was exactly what I was experiencing. Her steps faltered before she continued toward me, as if she was thinking of bailing, too. She adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder, looking at me for a few moments before blinking and looking at her feet.

  A few steps behind Avery was her friend Deb. The moment Deb noticed me, she tapped Avery on the shoulder. Avery chuckled as Deb whispered something, and then laughed out loud as her friend placed money in her hand. Avery's hee
ls clicked against the pavement. She strode confidently toward me, but her expression told a different story. Deb veered off toward her own car, and Avery took one last glance at her friend before stopping a few feet away from me.

  "I wasn't sure you'd come," she said as she looked up at me, her nose scrunched as if regretting her words.

  "Deb bet against me?" I asked, glancing down at the wadded up bill clutched in her palm.

  "Me, actually. She thought I'd back out."

  I nodded, trying to figure out what that said about Avery. "Well then, we better go before you make a run for it." Placing my hand on her lower back, I guided her to the passenger side of my car and pulled the door open.

  "Who knew you were such a gentleman?" She slipped inside and I closed her door. I tried not to jog to my side, but I was anxious to begin our night.

  I started the car and cringed as AC/DC blared through the speakers. "You can change that," I mumbled, reaching out and turning down the volume knob.

  "No, it's fine. I like it."

  I felt her watching me as I backed out of my parking spot. I shifted into drive and glanced to my left to see Deb dragging her finger across her throat in warning of what was awaiting me if I hurt her friend.

  "So ... where are we going?"

  I cleared my throat as I looked down the street before pulling out into traffic. "Are you hungry?"

  Avery glanced into the back seat, and her smile faded. "Please tell me you didn't cook."

  "I still have my eyebrows, don't I?" I said. She didn't seem amused, so I cleared my throat, suddenly nervous. Avery was the type of woman who was attracted to a guy like Doc Rose. She was right; I was going to have to step up my game. "No, ma'am, I didn't cook. Not tonight."

  We drove out of town to back country roads, winding over small hills. I pulled into the back entrance of Bud's junkyard. Avery stiffened at my side, craning her neck to glance over the rows and rows of dilapidated cars.

  "I knew it. You brought me here to kill me."

  I laughed, pulling my car into line with the other vehicles, and cut the engine. As my headlights faded, a bright light from overhead shined onto the old white sheet that hung haphazardly on a stack of twisted metal.

  "Come on." I pushed my door open and grabbed the mystery box from the back seat, along with a fitted sheet that matched the one hanging in front of us.

  Avery hesitated before following.

  Spreading out the sheet on the patchy grass in front of my car, I sank down on my knees and waited for her to join me.

  "I figured since we both hate people who talk at the movies, this would be the next best thing. We're thirty acres from anyone in every direction."

  "Said the serial killer," Avery deadpanned.

  My lips formed a hard line, but it was hard to be frustrated when she was looking at me like that. "No one is going to talk through this movie."

  She winked, nodded, and then glanced around. "This is ... really thoughtful of you, Josh." We fell silent for a moment as we listened to the crickets chirping in the distance.

  "Wait," I said, chuckling. "I'm not done, yet." I began to pull the wrapped plate from the basket, my stomach growling at the sight of Mrs. Cipriani's pie. "After the movie, you're going to pick a car."

  "What?" She scrunched her nose as she glanced around the mass of rusted and broken vehicles.

  "Don't worry about what they look like. I can make any one of them look good as new. These cars have been through a few drivers, but show them a little love, and they are reliable. You need something that can keep you safe. Not expensive and unreliable."

  "We still talking about cars here?" She raised an eyebrow.

  The last thing I wanted was to remind her of Doc Rose. I knew how I looked compared to men like him. He was mature and had his shit together. I had yet to commit to a car payment, much less a girlfriend.

  "Of course ... and things we hate, remember?"

  "That's easy." She laughed. "Next on my list is Christmas."

  "You hate baby Jesus's birthday?"

  She giggle-snorted. "No, I just hate the whole build-up. It never ends up the way it's planned, y'know?"

  "Life rarely does," I agreed. "But now you need to explain, because this confession has traumatic childhood written all over it."

  "After my parents ..." Her smile faded, and she slipped a mile away into her own thoughts. "Christmas is just a really lonely time for me. Probably not first date conversation."

  I realized I was right, and it felt like all the blood had drained from my face. "Fuck, I'm sorry." She waved me away, dismissing my apology. "How about, um ... how about before?"

  "My mom was Jewish. The kids at school used to go on and on about their tree. Maybe I was a little jealous," she confessed. She pressed her lips together, but then her laughter escaped and echoed throughout the salvage yard.

  It was contagious, and soon my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

  I opened my mouth to ask more questions, but the movie began, and we both turned our attention to the makeshift screen. I lay back, propped on my elbows as Avery sank down on her side and pulled the cellophane from her plate. Her eyes danced over the homemade apple pie before her smile stretched from ear to ear. She kept weird hours like me, and being single, that meant a lot of TV dinners and takeout.

  "Thank you for this." She took a bite and hummed in satisfaction. I'd never seen a woman quite so beautiful as Avery sitting on a worn sheet in the middle of a junkyard, looking perfectly content.

  "Quinn promised you a piece of his mom's pie for a piece of ass. I thought it was only fair that you get to try it. Just make sure you return the plate or Quinn's mom will kick my ass," I joked.

  She covered her mouth as she chewed and giggled, her laughter chiming along with the crickets' chirping.

  "Stop," Deb demanded.

  "I can't help it."

  "Stop, or I'll shave off all my body hair and mail it to you."

  I turned around in my chair, noticing her annoyed expression as she waited by the microwave. The break room was full of a strong medley of smells, none of them appetizing. I was chomping on my PB & J and apple slices, the only thing in my cabinets that would keep until lunch. Deb was heating up what looked like a plastic replica of broccoli, chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy, and Michaels was sipping on a Diet Coke in the corner.

  I hadn't seen outside in over an hour, but the last time I'd looked, the sky was dark and rain was soaking the parking lot and pouring off the awning that hung over the ambulance bay like a waterfall. I wondered if Josh was working out in the weather, and if he would feel like seeing me after being out in the muggy wet all day.

  "I can see you thinking about him," Deb said in an accusatory tone.

  "He's helping me with a car." My frown turned into a wide grin. "Who does that? I'm going to have transportation again in a month, maybe two. Until then--"

  "You dirty little slut," Deb said, sitting across from me at one of the five round tables in the west break room. The wallpaper reminded me of Step-Down and waking up after the accident. That only made me think of Josh more. I was annoying myself.

  She leaned in like I was going to reveal a juicy secret. "That's why you didn't call me for a ride. He took you to work today, didn't he?"

  "I ... none of your business."

  "Road head?"

  My face screwed into disgust, and I peeked over at Michaels. She was pretending not to eavesdrop, but everyone knew she had been one of the first nurses in the department to welcome Josh to Philadelphia ... with her vagina. "Deb. Jesus."

  She rolled her eyes. "How did I befriend such a prude? At least a good-night kiss?"

  "No."

  "No?" Her voice went up an octave. "Give me something. You're boring me to death. I can't even have a decent sex life vicariously through you."

  "What about you and Quinn? Did he call?" I asked, hoping she'd change the subject.

  "Maybe," she said. It was a pitiful segue into a detailed reproduction of the
ir phone call, complete with inappropriate jokes and innuendo. The longer she talked, the more I knew they were made for each other.

  In truth, I was glad I didn't have to recount the last moments of my night with Josh. Deb wouldn't have understood, anyway. It had been wonderful, and quiet, and exciting, and from the moment we left until he walked with me to the stoop of my apartment building, a million butterflies had burst from their cocoons and fluttered around in my entire body, hairline to toe polish. In one night, Josh Avery had transformed from the hospital hustler into what I had been waiting for. We hadn't had time to kiss because we'd hugged, his cheek had touched mine, and words had tumbled out of his mouth like he couldn't keep them in any longer. Seven words that would change everything.

  I need to see you again. Tomorrow.

  I'd said yes, and then he'd turned around, got in his car, and pulled away. He had seemed just as surprised by his request as I had been. When I'd finally processed what had happened, his brake lights had already turned the corner.

  Josh hadn't said he wanted to see me. Anyone could say that, and it would be sweet. No, he needed to see me, just like he'd needed to say it before it burst out of him like water from a broken levy.

  "So," Deb said, "I told him he was a narcissist. I could shart on stage at the Merriam Theater in front of the entire hospital board and it would somehow be about him. But I dunno, I kind of like it," Deb said, resting her chin on her hand.

  "Romantic," I said.

  "Speaking of romantic, did you fuck him?"

  "Deb!"

  "Spill it!"

  "No," I said through my teeth. Thankfully, Michaels was only on her fifteen-minute break and on her way out.

  "How many times did you have to slap his hand away?"

  "None."

  "None?"

  "No, Deb. He was a perfect gentleman."

  "Man. That sucks, Avery. I'm sorry."

  I sighed, already regretting my next question. We were alone, so it was a good time to pick her perverted, twisted mind. "Why would you be sorry?"

  "Well," she hesitated. "I know you're sort of into him, and ..."

  "And what?"

  "He doesn't ... You know I tell you straight, Avery."