When Sparks Fly

There’s a lot of groaning and grunting, followed by profanity.

“Deck, I gotta go or I’m gonna be late. Where the heck are your keys?” Low-level panic sets in. I don’t want to be late this morning, especially since the game starts at noon and our friends secured really great seats. I also hate driving in the rain, and there’s a good chance it’s going to impact traffic.

The door to his bedroom swings open. His face is flushed, his hair a wreck, and all he’s wearing is a pair of boxers. I keep my eyes fixed above the neck. Based on my current view, I’ve interrupted some morning nookie. It’s another reason to be pissed, since he obviously put more value on getting laid than he did on getting his ass in gear so he could honor his commitment and come with me to Boulder.

I poke at my cheek with my tongue, so damn annoyed and ready to go off on him. I was counting on having his SUV today and some company on this freaking trip.

He drags a hand through his hair, biceps flexing. His lips are puffy and his eyes are glassy. I make the mistake of glancing to the right, which means I’m looking at the bare ass of the woman currently sprawled across his dark sheets.

I hold out my hand. “I just need the keys and then you can get back to your friend.”

He makes a face. One I don’t like. “My SUV isn’t here.”

“What do you mean it’s not here?” I really don’t have time for this.

“I left it downtown last night.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I wasn’t gonna drink and drive,” he mutters gruffly and motions to the pile of clothes on the floor behind him. “I can find the keys if you wanna Uber to it.”

Downtown is in the opposite direction of where I’m headed, and stopping to get his SUV will take time I can’t afford to waste. “Never mind, I don’t have time to fuck around this morning, unlike you apparently. Thanks for being reliable. Super glad I can count on you when I need you, Deck.” I’m annoyed and frustrated, not because he doesn’t have the right to bring someone home, but because he put some random woman ahead of our friendship. It isn’t like him to bail on me. And I hate even more that I’m worried about making the trip on my own because of the weather. It makes me feel weak and incompetent.

I turn away, and he grabs for my arm. “Ave, come on.”

I twist out of his grip and stalk down the hall, calling out, “Dude, you smell like stale beer and used condoms. I hope she was worth it.”

5

SO UNRELIABLE

AVERY

“I don’t know why I’m so damn surprised!” I turn my windshield wipers up to full speed as a transport truck passes. The weather is crap, the rain makes visibility bad, and my tires are not in great shape. I needed to have them changed a month ago, but my schedule has been hectic, so this coming Tuesday was the soonest I could make it work.

Now I’m stuck in the slow lane, behind what I’m presuming is an old guy based on the fact that it’s a gold Buick beast in front of me. Whoever is behind the wheel is going at least ten miles under the speed limit, and I can’t pass him until there’s a substantial break in the traffic.

Not that I actually want to pass him at all. I have a very good reason for my dislike of driving in the rain. My parents were killed in a car accident during a horrible rainstorm when I was sixteen years old. My sisters and I had been staying overnight with our grandmother—as was typical—and we woke up the next morning to our grandmother’s tears and her promise that she would take care of us.

Nothing prepares you for that kind of loss. And although it’s been more than a decade, I still avoid driving in the rain whenever I can. But today, that’s not an option, so all I can do is white-knuckle it all the way to Boulder and try not to have a panic attack along the way.

“Do you think he forgot?” Harley asks.

I’m on a conference call with my sisters—hands-free, obviously.

“I don’t know how he could. We talked about it twice in as many days! I’m so freaking annoyed that he pulled this shit!”

“I’m sorry, Avery. I would’ve come with you,” London says, voice full of empathy.

“It’s so frustrating. We’ve been talking about this trip for a damn month. He was so stoked about seeing all the guys from college, and then he goes and puts some random vagina ahead of me and his friends.”

“He’s a guy, though. They think with their dicks,” London replies matter-of-factly.