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Authors: Reece Evhans
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open boulevard. I think I also looked like I had been competing in a wet t-shirt contest. Shit. I just want to make it known that the tears beginning to make their way down my cheeks were tears of anger. How DARE someone break into my locker and steal my stuff?? I felt so violated! I was so immersed in stewing in my own rage, that I was startled to hear my name. I turned, and life suddenly got a little bit better.
CHAPTER FIVE
"Truth without love is brutality, and love without truth is hypocrisy."
-Warren W. Wiersbe
"Ally!" It was Jack, now jogging up to me. I could see his car, headlights still on, driver's door open, parked in front of the Acapulco Taco Stand. I turned and he could see the tears, the wet t-shirt (yikes), and probably the goose bumps. "What the hell? Why didn't you take the bus? Where are your clothes?" He was taking off his jacket as he spoke and wrapping me in it.
"My wallet and my iPhone and my bus pass got stolen and my clothes got thrown in the showers and I tried to call everyone I know on Veronica's phone but nobody answered so I had to walk home," I babbled through chattering teeth.
"Come on," he picked up my bag and guided me to his car. "I've got the heater on. We need to get you warmed up."
I sank gratefully into the warm passenger seat, pulling his wonderfully soft leather jacket around me. I could smell him on it, the delicious warm, spicy scent and, I'm sorry, but I've got to say it- - man. He rooted around in the trunk, coming back a minute later with a blanket.
"It's got some dog hair on it," he apologized as he tucked it around my legs. "But it will help you get warm. ” He shut my door and went back around to the driver's side to get in. "Now," he turned to face me, taking my hands between his and beginning to chafe them. "What happened? How did your stuff get stolen?"
So I told him, more coherently now that I was beginning to feel my hands and chee ks again, how I had returned to the locker room after my run to find my locker broken into and my stuff gone.
"Do you still have the lock?" I nodded my assent. For some reason I had felt the need to pack it up with my other stuff. "Can I see it?" I bent down to the floor to fish it out of my bag and handed it to him. "Yeah, they popped your lock." I shot him a questioning look. "Well, these are pretty easy to break into. All you need is a table knife or a screwdriver and you just stick the tip between the u of the lock and the locker handle and give it a good whack. It's actually pretty simple physics: levers, you know?" In response to my raised eyebrows he gave one of his little half-smiles, "My misspent youth, remember?" He reached down past me to put the broken lock back in my bag. "You should have called me. I would have come to pick you up." When he sat up his face was close to mine.
"I don't have your number," I said ruefully. We just stared at each other for a moment. He looked at my mouth and I really, truly thought (hoped) he was going to kiss me, but then he cleared his throat and sat back behind the steering wheel.
"Yeah, well, I will make sure you have it from now on. As soon as you get a new phone." He put the car into gear and began to pull out onto the street. "Let me buy you a cup of coffee to get you warm faster. There's a McDonald's right up the street on Candelaria. Not the best coffee, but we can do the drive-thru."
We sat in the McDonald's parking lot with the car still running and the heater blasting warm air into the confines of the Mustang. The coffee was too hot to drink, but I held it between my hands, enjoying the warmth. "The paint job looks great, Jack." I had noticed the beautiful, shiny red paint as I got in.
"Thanks," he smiled and sipped his coffee carefully. "I finished it yesterday. Pretty much took up my whole weekend. Hey, was this afternoon a complete disaster or did you get a chance to talk to Veronica?"
"Jack, I'm still amazed that you actually believe any part of this crazy
CHAPTER FIVE
"Truth without love is brutality, and love without truth is hypocrisy."
-Warren W. Wiersbe
"Ally!" It was Jack, now jogging up to me. I could see his car, headlights still on, driver's door open, parked in front of the Acapulco Taco Stand. I turned and he could see the tears, the wet t-shirt (yikes), and probably the goose bumps. "What the hell? Why didn't you take the bus? Where are your clothes?" He was taking off his jacket as he spoke and wrapping me in it.
"My wallet and my iPhone and my bus pass got stolen and my clothes got thrown in the showers and I tried to call everyone I know on Veronica's phone but nobody answered so I had to walk home," I babbled through chattering teeth.
"Come on," he picked up my bag and guided me to his car. "I've got the heater on. We need to get you warmed up."
I sank gratefully into the warm passenger seat, pulling his wonderfully soft leather jacket around me. I could smell him on it, the delicious warm, spicy scent and, I'm sorry, but I've got to say it- - man. He rooted around in the trunk, coming back a minute later with a blanket.
"It's got some dog hair on it," he apologized as he tucked it around my legs. "But it will help you get warm. ” He shut my door and went back around to the driver's side to get in. "Now," he turned to face me, taking my hands between his and beginning to chafe them. "What happened? How did your stuff get stolen?"
So I told him, more coherently now that I was beginning to feel my hands and chee ks again, how I had returned to the locker room after my run to find my locker broken into and my stuff gone.
"Do you still have the lock?" I nodded my assent. For some reason I had felt the need to pack it up with my other stuff. "Can I see it?" I bent down to the floor to fish it out of my bag and handed it to him. "Yeah, they popped your lock." I shot him a questioning look. "Well, these are pretty easy to break into. All you need is a table knife or a screwdriver and you just stick the tip between the u of the lock and the locker handle and give it a good whack. It's actually pretty simple physics: levers, you know?" In response to my raised eyebrows he gave one of his little half-smiles, "My misspent youth, remember?" He reached down past me to put the broken lock back in my bag. "You should have called me. I would have come to pick you up." When he sat up his face was close to mine.
"I don't have your number," I said ruefully. We just stared at each other for a moment. He looked at my mouth and I really, truly thought (hoped) he was going to kiss me, but then he cleared his throat and sat back behind the steering wheel.
"Yeah, well, I will make sure you have it from now on. As soon as you get a new phone." He put the car into gear and began to pull out onto the street. "Let me buy you a cup of coffee to get you warm faster. There's a McDonald's right up the street on Candelaria. Not the best coffee, but we can do the drive-thru."
We sat in the McDonald's parking lot with the car still running and the heater blasting warm air into the confines of the Mustang. The coffee was too hot to drink, but I held it between my hands, enjoying the warmth. "The paint job looks great, Jack." I had noticed the beautiful, shiny red paint as I got in.
"Thanks," he smiled and sipped his coffee carefully. "I finished it yesterday. Pretty much took up my whole weekend. Hey, was this afternoon a complete disaster or did you get a chance to talk to Veronica?"
"Jack, I'm still amazed that you actually believe any part of this crazy
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