Page 46 of Needed You

I don’t need help anyway. I don’t want it. I just want to live my life without the memory of what I lost being thrown at me from every direction.

Keira’s car pulls up along the curb, and I’m glad for the distraction. I jog out to meet her and get in quickly. Thankfully she has the heat on, and it warms my bones. Between the conversation with Lev last night, his note this morning, and my stupid brain, I’m a total mess. She notices and asks if I’m okay, which I answer with just a short nod, and she doesn’t pry. She drops me off at the diner, and I hop in my car and immediately crank up the heat.

When I get home, I’m restless. I only get a few small things done before I can’t take it anymore. Lighting up a joint, I crack my bedroom window. Then I lie back on my bed and smoke, letting it calm my nerves. When I’m done, I pinch out my joint and try to get some sleep.

I wake up in the middle of the night, wide awake. That’s what I get for passing out early in the afternoon. I’m starving, of course, and now I wish I had grabbed the bag of bagels from Lev’s table.

Unable to get back to sleep, I start scrolling through my phone. There’s a message from Lev, and I hesitate for just a second before opening it.

Lev: Hey. You didn’t take breakfast. I hope everything was okay today.

I shake my head and pocket my phone. It’s too late to respond now anyway.

***

Everything is weird, and I’m feeling really unsettled. Nothing is going right with work, I have zero creative energy, and my brain is fucked up because I’m upset that I haven’t heard from Lev for two days. I haven’t actually said anything to him, either, so I’m partially to blame. I know this. But since nothing seems to be happening for me right now with work, I get dressed and decide to pay him a visit.

It’s lunchtime, so I swing by the diner and grab two club sandwiches and two orders of french fries. Lindsey is working, and she gives me the side-eye when she sees that I order two of everything. The sneaky little vixen was the catalyst for our hookup at the lake on Monday night, so she probably knows what’s up. I also notice that she’s paying special attention to a customer at the counter. He’s a good-looking guy. I’m pretty sure he’s as interested in her as she is in him; they’re laughing and talking and flirting. Good for her.

After securing the food in the passenger seat of my car a few minutes later, I drive to the motorcycle shop. My stomach is in knots. I’m not sure how Lev will feel about me showing up unexpectedly, but it’s worth a shot.

When I get to the shop, I park my car, grab the food, and head to the shop’s entrance. I hear music coming from the garage area, along with the clanking of tools, and the smell of motor oil invades my senses as I walk into the building. I look around, but I don’t see Lev anywhere. A man I recognize as his uncle sees me and stops what he’s doing. He gets up from his stool and wipes his hands on a rag.

“Hi. Can I help you?” he asks.

“Oh, I, um . . . I’m here to see Lev?” It comes out as more of a question than a statement.

The man smiles and asks if I have an appointment, to which I let him know I don’t. He tells me to wait a minute while he goes and gets “the boss.” I smile to myself at that. For some reason, it makes me feel warm inside.

A few minutes later, the man comes back out of an office, a perplexed-looking Lev on his heels. I nod to the man in thanks as Lev cocks his head.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is as confused as his face.

“Hey, yourself,” I say, holding up the bag. “I brought lunch.” I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly feeling embarrassed, like an awkward teenager. Maybe I shouldn’t have come.

Lev smiles at me, and he honestly seems to be as flustered as I am. “Lunch?” he says. “That’s so . . . wow. Thanks!”

We stand there looking at each other like fools for a short time before he comes to his senses and reaches out for the bag, shaking his head.

“Yeah, so . . .” He points to the back of the shop. “Let’s go to the . . . to my office.”

He leads me through the shop to a back room that’s clearly an office. Once inside, he closes the door and starts toward a big wooden desk pushed up against one wall. The desk is messy, with an open laptop, a bunch of papers, and some model motorcycles taking up most of the space on the surface. But there’s just enough space for us to eat, and so I step over to the desk and set the bag down.

“This is a great office,” I comment as I start to unpack the sandwiches. Lev sits down in his chair opposite me and grabs a fry. “I hope it’s okay. Lunch, I mean,” I add.

“This is more than okay, Dare,” he says. “I’m really happy you came to see me.” We settle into a quiet moment and start to eat. A short while later, Lev speaks. “So, can I ask why?”

I shrug. “Just eat,” I tell him.

He shakes his head with a smirk that shows the deep dimple in his cheek, and we both continue to eat.

When the food is gone and our stomachs are full, Lev takes me on a tour of the shop. It’s really nice, well laid out, and it’s adorable to see him so proud. Adorable. He shows me the stockroom and the showroom and the area where they do the mechanical and other work on the bikes. He has some really nice looking motorcycles here, all in various stages of repair.

“Seriously, Lev. This whole place is . . . it’s really freaking cool,” I say.

“Thank you,” he responds, and I can’t help but notice how his chest pops out with pride a little bit. We make our way to the front of the shop.

“So, thank you, again,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets. “I liked this.” His lips curl into a half smile, and his eyes meet mine.