“I’m ready, but only because I’m pretty sure I’ll lose if we keep playing.”
Ash holds up a plastic and metal key with a large blue tag on it. “I’ll drive.”
Shelby does this jerk of a move where she insists on sitting in the backseat and leaves me crawling into the front seat of the massive F150 Ash has rented for the short term he’s back home. His sad little Mazda sits in the shop, the tires flat from weeks of neglect.
“I’m definitely buying one of these when I get home for the long term,” Ash says, running his hands over the steering wheel. “I feel like I’m driving a tank instead of my old tiny little truck.”
I play with the hem of my shirt, refusing to look over at him but doing it in a way that doesn’t look like I’m avoiding him. The drive is agonizing. I reply to Shelby’s small talk, do a lot of staring out of the window, and tell myself about a million times to stop thinking of the days when I was in the middle seat of Ash’s rental trucks with Shelby in the passenger seat. It almost feels weirder to be sitting here without the weight of his arm around my shoulders.
The Burger Barn parking lot is full, because there’s only two places you can get a burger in Mixon, and the other one is well known for its dollar menu and golden arches. Burger Barn uses real ingredients and most nights has a live band playing on the patio. Also they serve beer. It’s probably because of the beer that the place is packed tonight.
Ash parks at the back of the gravel parking lot. The scent of burgers on the grill fills the air and makes my stomach growl. As expected, there are no places to sit inside, but it’s a nice summer night so Shelby chooses a picnic table closest to the band. We order our food, and I sit next to Shelby. Ash sits across from us, right in the middle, and he might as well be sitting in my lap for how freaking close he feels. Why did I agree to come here?
He’s checked his phone twice, talked to Shelby about their brother’s slipping math grades and how pissed their mom is about it, and waved at a few guys who recognized him when we walked in. Despite what Shelby said earlier, Ash hasn’t done a single thing that I could twist into anything resembling him still having feelings for me. Nothing. Nada.
He checks his phone again. And I can’t help myself. “Girlfriend bugging you or something?” I ask, taking a long sip of my soda. “You’re glued to your phone.”
He stiffens and his eyes look right past me, just slightly. Maybe he thinks I won’t realize he’s avoiding my gaze, but after months of looking into those navy blue eyes, I know them better than he does. “Nah. I, uh…” he says. He clicks off the phon
e and goes to slide it back into his pocket. The tension in the air is thick with an awkwardness that makes my throat hurt.
I fake a laugh. “I’m just messing with you,” I lie. “I don’t care who you’re texting. Obviously you’re a busy guy.”
His expression softens a bit and he looks like he still has something to say. But then our waitress drops off the basket of fried pickles we’d ordered and the moment is gone, taken away on the trail of grease smell she leaves behind.
“So are you happy to be home?” Shelby asks, her eyes looking from her brother to me.
Ash shrugs. Shrugs. “It’s alright. I already miss my bike, though.”
“You have your old bike in the shop,” she says, dunking a pickle in ranch. “You could probably go ride it tomorrow.”
He shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be the same. That old thing isn’t nearly as performance engineered as my racing bike. It’d be like I was riding a snail around the track.”
“Well, we miss you when you’re gone,” she says, her words are clearly chosen as she says them. “We all miss you.”
Flames rise up my neck and into my cheeks, and it’s all I can do to avoid shouting, “Except for me! I don’t miss you because I’m the ex!”
“Look who’s back in town!” I look up in time to see Eric Morgan slap Ash on the shoulder. He’s wearing cargo shorts and a walking cast on his left foot, thanks to a fracture he earned at my dad’s track a couple of weeks ago. “So how’s the good life?” he asks Ash.
I reach for a pickle and notice Eric’s friends sitting a few picnic tables away. They’re all looking in our direction, but I guess Eric is the only guy even remotely fast enough on a dirt bike to feel like he can come say hi to Ash. It’s weird how Ash is a local celebrity now. I gaze off absentmindedly, eating pickles even though my stomach is still turning from being in such close proximity to him.
Someone waves at me from Eric’s table, and I snap out of my daydream haze. Lincoln is standing near an empty seat, a milkshake in his hand. He gives me a lopsided smile, and I smile back on instinct. I guess that’s all the invitation he needs because now he’s walking over here. I glance at Ash, but he’s talking to Eric and also looking at his stupid cell phone again. I bet he does have another girlfriend already.
I am so pathetic.
“Hey there.” Lincoln casts a tall shadow over me. “Mind if I sit?”
I slide closer to Shelby even though there’s plenty of room on this bench. “Be my guest.”
Ash has to have noticed Lincoln’s presence by now, but I’m too scared to look over and find out. Shelby, however, is practically staring a hole into my back. “Hey, Lincoln,” she says, leaning around me. She smiles. “What are you up to? Have you met my brother, Ash? I’m sure Hana has told you all about him.”
“I don’t think I have,” Lincoln says, flashing a smile that looks as innocent as his denial sounded. Damn, he’s good. “Hey man, I’m Lincoln.”
Ash gives him a quick head nod. “Ash.”
Luckily Eric keeps rambling on about whatever and all of the tension in the air calls a temporary truce.
“Pickles?” Shelby says, offering the basket toward Lincoln.