Page 16 of Wrecked

“This is Leah.” Adam nods to me. “She’s been assigned community service. One hundred hours.”

The guy whistles through his teeth. “Damn. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Drunk-driving,” Adam interjects.

I do everything not to lurch for his throat.

“Leah, this is Toby Kefler. He helps run Homes for All Souls.”

I’m still giving Adam the evil glare when Toby reaches forward and says, “Pleasure to meet you, Leah. No matter the reason, we’re happy to have you.”

Despite my annoyance with Adam, I give Toby a polite smile. He’s tall and skinny with shaggy brown hair and a kind face. He reminds me of Rory O’Toole, the guy Suzanne was making out with last night.

I shake my head at the thought of last night. Hanging with the girls feels like it was ten years ago. So much has happened since then.

“Come on,” Adam says out loud, talking at me, not to me. He goes into the house, not bothering to help me climb in since there are no entry steps.

Once inside, I am immediately hit with the scent of sawdust. The air is filled with tiny particles, and there is the loud sound of a circular saw being used by a guy in the corner. The inside of the walls are exposed to show electrical wires, copper pipes, and white plastic plumbing that must have just been installed.

I turn and see Adam’s orange shirt walking up the stairs. I take the stairs as well, and instead of following him down the hall, I walk into a room lined with wood beams and a large pile of Sheetrock on the floor. Two guys are hammering, and I take a moment to appreciate the fine specimens wielding those hammers. Wouldn’t mind getting hammered myself by the one—

“Ahem.”

A clearing of a throat catches my attention. I turn my head to Adam, who is looking at me with raised brows that are popping up from his sunglasses.

“I think we should start in another room.”

I squint my eyes and pinch my lips at him. Killjoy.

We walk into the adjacent room, a bedroom perhaps. There is no one in here, only some boards of Sheetrock. The windows with their Pella stickers still on them are open, letting in the morning breeze, airing out the smell of construction that is starting to stuff up my nose.

Adam leaves the room for a few minutes and comes back with a toolbox and a black case. Setting the case on the floor, he crouches down, opens it up, and hands me the screw gun. I hit the trigger button, and the thing roars to life.

“Careful with that. I don’t need to bring you to the emergency room.” He takes the drill gun out of my hands.

I reach forward and take it back. “I know how to use a drill.”

He gives me a sideways glance as he opens the box for some screws.

I wish there were music in here or something. His stoic personality is really making me want to talk about nonsense, and talking to Adam about nonsense just to fill the air is not something I should be doing right now.

He hands me a handful of screws and then walks over to the pile of Sheetrock. He lifts a board like it weighs an ounce and holds it up against the wall. “I’ll hold the board while you screw it in. Make sure you—hey, will you wait until I tell you where to drill? Don’t just start screwing wherever you want.”

When my screw is in the drywall, I start on the next one. I know to only screw to the wall studs, spacing the screws twelve inches apart. Ignoring Adam’s comments, I put the screws in until the board is secure.

When I’m done, I stand up straight and look him in the eye. “What are you staring at? Get another board.”

Adam looks back at me for a beat longer than he usually does before getting the next board. When he holds it up, we realize there’s an electrical outlet on the wall, so we’ll have to cut a hole for it in the Sheetrock.

“I don’t have a tape measure in here. I’ll be right back.” Adam props the board against the wall and leaves me alone in the room again.

I take the opportunity to look at my fingernails. The polish is chipping. Maybe I’ll get a fun orange color this time. I should probably do my toes, too.

I drum my fingers on my thigh and wait for Adam to return. He’s not coming back anytime soon, so I walk into the room next door where the cute guys are working.

Giving my sweetest smile, I ask, “Do you boys happen to have a tape measure and a utility knife I can borrow?”