This Girl: A Novel

right next to me. I’m quickly reminded what it feels like to be in such close proximity to her. I hold my breath and fight back the urge to grab her by the waist and pull her into the Jeep with me.
    “I mean, why are you doing this? You’ve made it pretty clear you don’t want me to speak to you,” she says.
    Her obvious annoyance at my presence almost makes me regret having decided to help her after all. “Layken, you’re a student stranded in the parking lot. I’m not going to get in my car and just drive away.” As soon as the words escape my lips, I regret them. She draws her chin in and glances away, shocked at my impersonal words.
    I sigh and get out of the car. “Look, that’s not how I meant it,” I say as I reach back under the hood.
    She steps closer to me and leans against the Jeep. I watch her out of the corner of my eye while I pretend to fidget with more wires. She tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth and stares at the ground, a saddened expression across her face. “It’s just been really hard, Will,” she says quietly. The softness in her voice now is even more painful to hear than the edginess. I inhale, afraid of what she’s about to confess. She takes a deep breath like she’s hesitating to finish her sentence, but continues anyway. “It was so easy for you to accept this and move past it. It hasn’t been that easy for me. It’s all I think about.”
    Her confession and the honesty in her voice cause me to wince. I grip the edge of the hood and turn toward her. She’s looking down at her hands with a troubled expression on her face. “You think this is easy for me?” I whisper.
    She glances at me and shrugs. “Well, that’s how you make it seem,” she says.
    Now would be the opportune moment to walk away. Walk away, Will.
    “Lake, nothing about this has been easy,” I whisper. I know beyond a doubt that I shouldn’t be saying any of the things I’ve been dying to say to her, but everything about her draws the truth out of me whether I want to share it or not. “It’s a daily struggle for me to come to work, knowing this very job is what’s keeping us apart.” I turn away from the car and lean against it, next to her. “If it weren’t for Caulder, I would have quit that first day I saw you in the hallway. I could have taken the year off . . . waited until you graduated to go back.” I turn toward her and lower my voice. “Believe me, I’ve run every possible scenario through my mind. How do you think it makes me feel to know that I’m the reason you’re hurting? That I’m the reason you’re so sad?”
    I just said way too much. Way too much.
    “I . . . I’m sorry,” she stutters. “I just thought—”
    “Your battery is fine,” I say as soon as I see Nick round the car next to us. “Looks like it might be your alternator.”
    “Car won’t start?” Nick says.
    Layken looks at me wide-eyed, then turns around to face Nick. “No, Mr. Cooper thinks I need a new alternator.”
    “That sucks,” Nick says as he glances under the hood. He looks back up at Lake. “I’ll give you a ride home if you need one.”
    As much as I’d rather punch him than let him take her home, I know it’s her only option right now because I sure as hell don’t need to take her home.
    “That would be great, Nick,” I say. I shut the hood of the Jeep and walk away before I add to my long list of stupid decisions.
    •••
    I SHOULD JUST pull the list of stupid decisions back out, because I’m making another one right now.
    We’ve spent the last fifteen minutes frantically searching for Kel and Caulder. I’d assumed they were at her house, she had assumed they were at mine. We finally found them passed out in the backseat of my car, where they still are.
    Now, I’m rummaging through my satchel, searching for the keys to her Jeep. I had my mechanic put a new alternator on it this afternoon, then stupidly invited her inside to give her the keys back. I say stupidly, because every ounce of my being doesn’t want her to leave. My heart is pounding against my chest just being in her presence. I locate the keys and turn around to hand them to her. “Your keys,” I say, dropping them into her hand.
    “Oh, thanks,” she says, looking down at them. I’m not sure what she expected me to hand her, but she seems disappointed that it’s just her keys.
    “It’s running fine now,” I say. “You should be able to drive it home tomorrow.” I’m hoping she’ll be the