“I’m just trying to make this fit in here.” My voice sounds far away from the strain of having my arms above my head for too long.

“You’re going to break your back trying to carry that by yourself,” Kash objects. He sets his own box down and strides toward me, already raising his arms to the box though I’m several feet ahead.

I give a final shove before he can reach me, and watch the box slide into place. A loud sigh breaks the silence and my arms fall to my sides, tingling so badly it’s hard for me to grip the top of the ladder.

“Lo, don’t worry about this stuff. King and I will get it.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“You’re crazy.” Kash shakes his head once. “Where’s muchkin?”

“Her friend Paige is here. I hope that’s okay. She said she’s allowed over whenever. I think they both got tired of me hovering, so I thought I’d move some of these old files.”

“Paige is cool and always welcome. Thanks for watching out for her, Lo.” I see the edges of Kash’s lips curl before he turns his back and grabs the box he carried in. His heavy footfalls echo in the direction of the living room as I slowly climb down the ladder, my muscles loose and fatigued.

“Hurting yourself because you’re too stubborn to ask for help is stupid. Swallow your pride next time. Or is that something else you don’t like to swallow?”

My eyes fix on King with a glare.

“Oh, does that look say you’re starting to remember more?”

“Sorry, I don’t obsess over something minor that happened months ago! Especially when it was nothing noteworthy.”

“Then why do you still draw me?”

I drop my head back and move my attention to the ceiling to stop seeing the cocky grin that’s covering King’s face. “I don’t draw you. I draw your stupid hands. Get over yourself.” I should have denied, denied, denied. No one knows I still draw him. For some reason, the knowledge that I do so often completely overshadowed any chance of deflection.

“My hands?”

Before I can stop my head from turning, I’m watching him look down at his hands, his baseball hat sitting low on his brow so I can’t see his expression, only hear his confusion in his tone. “Yup, your hands, stud.”

My words are meant to be as condescending as they sound, yet he looks up at me with his smile stretched impossibly wide. “You did say my hands were amazing. You told me you loved how wide my fingers—”

“Dude, is the new gear here?” The rustling of coats has King and me both turning toward the front door where Summer and Parker are shedding their outer layers.

King’s stare meets mine again. He tilts his chin and purses his lips like he’s annoyed they’ve interrupted yet another one of our hate exchanges. “You told me to never stop.”

“Never stop what?” Parker asks, pulling the box from King’s grasp and lowering it to the ground. His focus remains on it as he pulls a switchblade from his pocket and flips the blade free. In one quick motion, he slides it across the box with a soft pop from the tape, and then he looks to King, holding both flaps of the box. His gaze quickly turns to me and then returns to King with his eyebrows arched.

“Never stop riding. His personality doesn’t allow for much else,” I say quickly.

Parker howls with laughter and Summer quietly snickers, but I can read the vengeance in King’s narrowed eyes. “I thought you were the one that never wanted to stop riding?” King’s lips press into a firm line.

“Dude, you aren’t riding again without us, are you?” Parker asks, sounding genuinely shocked as he looks to me.

“I’ve just been messing around while Mercedes works with Summer. It’s nothing big.”

“You have to get your ass back out to the shop with us! I want to see you do the ramp. You’ve got ice in your veins! You’re going to rock it.”

“Yeah, ice in her veins and bricks in her head. Don’t give her any more dumb ideas to try,” King mutters.

My fingers tighten around the ladder that I’m still gripping for support. I wish it were smaller and lighter so I could throw it at him.

“Don’t be a dick, dude. She won’t go off the ramp again or any of the jumps until she feels ready.” As much as I appreciate Parker defending me, I’d rather he shut up too so the conversation can be redirected.

“Besides, we might take off the training wheels, but I’ll catch her if she falls.” Parker’s eyes dance and his lips spread wide with a smile that once again eludes to his intentions.

“Maybe we’ll try the ramp tomorrow.”

“Her long arms would probably knock you out.” King’s reply stings before I’ve been able to consider Parker’s innuendo. The guys laugh with a mutual agreement that has my cheeks warming with embarrassment and my hands falling to my sides in an attempt to not appear so large.

“These are awesome!” The attention shifts to Summer as she pulls out a wad of fabric covered in plastic. She quickly pulls it open and shakes out a sweatshirt as I condense the ladder and disappear into the garage to put it away.

“Lauren, I didn’t mean anything by that.”

My muscles pull back as a reflex from being startled. My thoughts were so distracted I didn’t hear him follow me out. The ladder misses the hooks. It falls with a crash and painful sear to my shoulder and hand as I desperately move to catch it so it doesn’t hit Kash’s car.

“Are you okay?” King’s voice is raised with concern and only inches from me. He pulls the ladder away and leans it haphazardly against the wall, his attention fixed on me.

“Dandy,” I reply, shrugging the pain off.

King closes his eyes and moves a hand to his face where he presses a thumb and forefinger to either side of his nose. I trace over him without thought. The scars across his knuckles, the veins and tendons that are stretched even with little movement, and the grease stains along his index finger—I see it all. I turn before I can move on to his face and stalk back into the house where Parker and Summer are surrounding themselves with shirts and plastic wrappings.

“Lo, what size do you need?” Parker asks, lifting a pink sweatshirt and digging for the tag.

“I’m good. Thanks though. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you guys later.”

Parker’s hands stop, and he turns to look at me. “We’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here.” I grab my coat and look around for several minutes before recalling I left my bag out in the shop. My breath releases in a silent huff as I make my way to Mercedes’ room, ready to leave. I knock twice, opening the door as I do, and find both of them sprawled out across the floor with a mess of magazines between them.

“Bye, ladies! Have fun tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Each delivers a half-hearted wave that reinstates they’re having fun and that Paige is a good kid. This small assurance lightens the weight on my shoulders as I head back to the front door.

“Night, Lo!” Kash yells down the hall.

“Bye, Kash,” I call in reply, gripping the front door handle. “See you tomorrow.”

It’s cold out, the air heavy, saturated with a dampness that has created a low fog that is both eerie and beautiful. The gravel crunches beneath my feet for several steps as I ignore the sound of movement coming from the garage until King appears beside me, pushing a bike.

“I thought you were going home.”

I am not going to look at him. I am not going to look at him. I am not going to look at him.

“Stalking me again?”

My head whips around and my narrowed eyes fix on King. He laughs loudly, freely, his head thrown back like the act is medicinal. It makes memories filter into my thoughts of that night and how we both laughed like this. Together.

I hate that he has such a great laugh.

I hate that he enjoys laughing so much.

I hate that he’s laughing at me.

“I was just kidding. I knew you were ignoring me.” He extends an arm and wraps it around my shoulder, gently jostling me. “Loosen up.”