The Truth About Us
“People still do that?”
“Living proof.”
She sat there, staring. The notion of going to the library any time you had to do research or use the internet was the most bizarre thing she’d heard all day.
Of course, he must use his phone...
“Well, what about your phone? Can I borrow it really quick? Mine died.” When he said nothing, she wiggled her fingers out in front of her. “Please?”
He ran a hand through his sandy hair, avoiding her gaze.
Abigail scoffed. “What? You don’t want me using it?”
When he said nothing, she rolled her eyes. “Next, you’re going to tell me you don’t have a phone.”
“Actually...”
“You don’t have a phone?” She gaped. “How is that possible? No internet. No phone. How do you survive? How do you go on social media or text or—"
“I don’t, really. There’s not much of a need for socializing on your phone when you don’t have much of a social life to begin with. Besides, I’m not into that kind of thing.”
“Okay, never mind.” She could survive the wait.
Hopping out of the car, she helped him retrieve his bike from her trunk. “Sorry again, about the uh, the accident,” she said, gesturing toward his injured side.
“I’ll be fine.”
When he turned to leave, a pang of sympathy settled in her gut. She watched him wheel his bike with the bent frame, shuddering with every rotation of the damaged wheels and had to bite her thumbnail to stifle her laughter at the sight of him gimping along.
She stepped forward, placing a tentative hand on his arm, noting the warmth of his skin along with the swell of muscle. Maybe it was guilt or the gold flecks in his brown eyes. Or maybe it was the way his hair continued to fall over his forehead or the soft curve of his smile, but she found herself wanting to see him again and not just at class. He was the first thing to make her smile in days.
Unable to stop her growing grin, she hooked a thumb back toward the car. “Hey, it seems I’ve acquired a new ride.”
She stared at her grandmother’s car, noting the fresh black scuff marks on the front bumper. “Why don’t I pick you up before school tomorrow?”
“Nah. That’s okay.”
“It’s no trouble,” she said. “You live less than ten minutes from my house and seeing as how I messed your bike up and all...”
Kaden glanced from the car to Abigail to his bike and shrugged. “Well, if you’re sure...”
“I could use the company,” she admitted, shocked at her own honesty.
The corner of his mouth curled. “Okay, it’s a date.”
“It’s not a date,” she said, backing toward her car. “It’s just a ride. But I’ll pick you up at seven?”
He grinned. “Whatever you say.”
She turned and got back into her car, replaying his answering smile the entire drive home, thinking how much of a mystery he was. An eighteen-year-old with no access to the internet or a phone? Unheard of.
Maybe his family was Mormon or something. Were Mormons allowed access to technology? Abigail shook her head. Of course they were. It’s Amish who can’t have electronics. Hey, maybe he’s ex-Amish. She nodded and then laughed at the foolish thought. She may never find out. He didn’t seem forthcoming with details about himself.
Then again, she wasn’t exactly an open book. Far from it. The only thing separating her and him was her slightly elevated social status. Of her small circle, she was closest to Cammie, but the depth of her friendships barely expanded outside the classroom. Still, at least she had a group of girlfriends. She couldn’t say the same about him. Abby couldn’t thin
k of one boy he hung out with.
When she arrived home and ran into her bedroom, she closed and locked the door in case her father or grandfather decided they’d interrupt her. Thankfully, her mother was still at the museum fundraiser.