Crash Into You by Katie McGarry

home.”
    “It’s fine. Ethan would have texted me if there were problems. Mom and Dad probably haven’t even come home for the night.”
    Yeah. I knew all about guardians who stayed out late to party. I guess having money changes nothing in the realm of shitty parenting. “Tell me your brothers protect you.” Because if not, I’d have to meet them in a dark alley sometime and school them on how to treat their sister.
    “More like they’re overprotective.”
    I savor the feel of the smooth skin of her hand. No girl I have ever touched has had hands this soft. “That’s not a bad thing.”
    Rachel releases a frustrated sigh. “You know, I’m starting to think I misjudged you. You sound annoyingly like my brothers.”
    She’s right on one thing: she has misjudged me, but not in the way she thinks. “Good. I’m all for overprotection.”
    “Bossy.”
    I chuckle, and the sound makes her smile. I’m going to miss that smile.
Tell her it’s over, asshole.
Tell her that you come from two different worlds and that it would never work. Tell her that kiss meant more to you than she could ever imagine. Tell her that you’ll dream about her and think about her, but that’s where it ends.
    The color drains from her face and her hand goes limp in mine. Did she figure out I’m bad news on her own? She heads for her car. “Do you have my keys?”
    I fish them out of my pocket and toss them to her. With the click of a button, the car unlocks and she opens the passenger door. She keeps her back to me for a second then turns with a piece of paper in her hand. “Here’s my number. I almost forgot to give it to you.”
    I swallow as I stare at the number.
Tell her. Just fucking tell her.
“Rachel...”
    “You’ll call, right?” And the small amount of hurt in her voice stabs my heart.
    I envelop Rachel in my arms and cup her head to my chest. She smells good. Like the ocean. Like her jacket. I try to memorize the feel of her body against mine: all soft and warm and curves. The paper in her hand crinkles as she links one arm, then another around my waist. Leaning into me, she lets out a contented sigh and I close my eyes with the sound.
    Ten seconds. I’ll keep her for ten more seconds.
    I want to keep her.
    Two.
    I shouldn’t.
    Four.
    Maybe she can see past what I am. We don’t have to be more. We can be friends.
    Seven.
    I can fix this.
    Nine.
    I can make anything work.
    Ten.
    “I’ll call.”
    With bright eyes, she shoves the number into my hand. “Okay. I’ll talk to you soon.”
    I nod, and without another word, Rachel slips into the driver’s seat, turns over the engine and glides her Mustang out of the auto shop. Grasping my lifeline to her, I watch as her red taillights fade into the distance.
    I smile, then groan as I inhale.
    I can recognize three girls by their scent. Tonight I learned that Rachel smells like the ocean. Beth reminded me of crushed roses. And this girl—wild honey. I may not see her, but she’s there. Every ounce of happiness flees with the realization that my life can’t be changed. “What do you want, Abby?”
    The shadow of a slim figure ghosts its way toward me from the side of the shop. “I hadn’t heard that you found a new plaything.”
    I cross my arms over my chest. “I haven’t.”
    She steps into the streetlight, brushing her long, dark brown hair over the shoulder of her tightly fitted hoodie. “Why so testy, Isaiah? She seemed cute. Spunky. I like cute and spunky. I had a bunny like that once, one of those large fluffy ones.”
    “You don’t seem like the bunny type.”
    “I’m not.” Her dark eyes wickedly flash over me. “Hence the word
once.
”
    “What do you want?” I repeat, glancing at the nonexistent watch on my arm. “It’s late.”
    Abby and I have a weird friendship, which is odd since Abby doesn’t do relationships. The sarcastic curve of her lips indicates that, in this moment, she’s temporarily placed our friendship on the back burner.