Page 13 of Revv

“Can’t control my spirit.”

She blows out a breath and looks toward the street, like maybe if she stares hard enough, a responsible adult will materialize with jumper cables and no personality.

No one does.

Lucky me.

I let the hood drop with a heavy thunk. “Battery’s probably done.”

“Great. Love that for me.”

“Looks like you need a ride.”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let the offer breathe.”

“You’re right. I recognized it as a bad idea and killed it quickly.”

“Dramatic. It might not be your version of ‘ideal’ but it beats sitting in an empty lot at night by yourself.”

“I can call Bexley. Get them to come back and grab me.”

“You could”—I tilt my head—“but then you’d have to explain why you didn’t take the ride already standing in front of you.”

Her lips press together.

I grin because I can see the exact second she realizes I’m right, and she hates it. Hates it so much I can practically hear her grinding her teeth.

“How much did you drink?” she asks.

“Water? Alot.”

She blinks. “What? Idiot. I meant beer.”

“I only had water,” I repeat.

“At a party?”

“Yeah.”

Her gaze sweeps over me, suspicious. “You don’t drink?”

“Not much.”

“Why?”

I could make a joke. I almost do. It’s sitting right there on my tongue, easy and stupid, the kind of answer that keeps things light.

But she’s watching me too closely.

So I shrug. “Don’t like shit messing with my head.”

That shuts her up for a second.

Not long, but long enough.

Her eyes flick over my face like she’s trying to decide whether there’s something real under the bullshit. There is. I just don’t usually hand it out in parking lots to women who threaten my dental work.