“That’s why we created air-conditioning,” I reply, and reach down to untie my sneakers. My feet are overheated, like the rest of my body, but at least this is one thing I can take care of. “So I guess you’re not used to it, either, huh?” I ask, sliding my shoes off my feet. Ideally, I’d be wearing my flip-flops in this heat—well, ideally I wouldn’t be out here in the heat in the first place, but that’s neither here nor there—but I didn’t dare, not in this place. Who knows what kind of stuff could be lying around, just waiting to be stepped on?
I press my bare feet into the dirt. It’s delightfully cool, and I wiggle my toes, getting the sandy earth wedged between them like a little kid on the beach.
“Yeah,” he replies. “The prison had the A/C running full blast. They had to. There would’ve been a shit-ton of riots if they let us bake like this.”
“People do get pissy in the heat,” I agree. I’m trying not to think about it, about what Ash went through. Just the thought of him in prison makes my stomach hurt.
Ash turns and opens one eye to look up at me. “You seem to be doing okay,” he says. And I grin.
“That’s only because you’re staying out of my way,” I tease. “If you had pissed me off, well, you’d already be in the Dumpster by now.”
“Hmmm,” he says, and lets his eyes fall shut again. “I don’t know. I think I could take you.”
Yes, you can, my brain helpfully supplies before I can shut it up.
Nope, I tell it. Not thinking about that. At all. I pull my phone out of the back pocket of my shorts and check the time before sliding it back in and kicking my foot out, nudging Ash with my toe. “Come on,” I say. “Get up.”
“Ugh . . . ” he moans. “Why?”
“Because it’s too hot to work right now,” I say. “And if you get up I’ll buy you a slushie.”
He opens his eyes and pushes himself up so he’s leaning back against his bent elbows. Raising an eyebrow at me, he asks, “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” I reply. “Any flavor you want. But you have to get up.” Technically I could just go buy the slushies and bring them back, but for some reason that I don’t want to think about, I want him to come with me.
A voice that sounds a hell of a lot like my roommate Autumn laughs at me from the back of my mind. Shut up, I tell it. It’s not a date. I turn back to Ash as I slip my sneakers back on my now-dusty feet. “You coming?” I ask.
“Okay,” he says, pulling himself to his feet. “But I’d just like to say that I’m not getting up because you told me to. I’m doing it solely for the slushie.”
“Duly noted,” I tell him, reaching into my pocket for the car keys. “But if that’s your attitude, you can stay in the car while I go into the nice air-conditioned mini-mart.”
Ash lets out an honestly pornographic-sounding moan and mumbles something that I’m pretty sure was “air-conditioning,” but it came out of his mouth like he was addressing some form of deity. He moves to step past me and my free hand reaches out automatically and starts brushing the sandy dirt off the back of his T-shirt. I don’t even realize I’m doing it until he freezes under my touch, and as soon as I see what I’m doing, my entire body tenses up in humiliation. Slowly, deliberately, I pull my hand away and brush it against the side of my shorts. Ash is looking at me with an unreadable expression on his face, and my face burns. But this time I know the fire I’m feeling isn’t from the sun.
“Sorry,” I mumble, and do a fumbling sort of wave as I try to gesture to his back. “Dirt.”
“Yeah,” Ash says softly, and then turns away to stare at the ground somewhere off to the side.
“Okay!” I say, and clap my hands together, because it isn’t like I can make it any more awkward at this point. “Let’s go.” I forge ahead toward the gate. “Car time. Slushies await.”
***
Taking the car was probably the wrong choice. It is still full of junk, so it is cramped as hell—the first thing I am doing when we get back is cleaning it out, I swear—and it is even hotter inside the car than it is outside, if that is possible. It takes nearly the entire drive over to the mini-mart for the ancient air conditioner to kick in, and when it does, it barely gives off a sputter of cold air before it craps out again.
Yeah, I am definitely going to need to get that fixed.
Goodbye, money.
I sigh and drag my overheated body out of the car. Ash is hot on my heels as I hustle into the mini-mart, the doors sliding open automatically in a burst of icy air that leaves me breathless. Oh, thank god. I’m tempted to just throw myself onto the Popsicle display face-first, and stay there forever. And I might have, if Ash didn’t herd me toward the slushie machine at the back of the store.
We’re there for less than a minute; me, trying to decide which flavor sounds most appealing, Ruby Blast or Arctic Blue, while Ash adds layer after layer of different flavors to his cup. He steps back and surveys his handiwork. It looks almost like a rainbow.
“That’s going to be disgusting,” I tell him, and reach for the machine that’s churning Arctic Blue. Arctic-anything sounds good right now. “All the flavors are going to combine into soup.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, and grabs a double-wide straw from the box next to the machine. He stabs it into his drink and takes a long sip. “It’s awesome. Also?” He nods toward the machine. “You’re going to spill that.”
I whip around. “Oh shit!” I yelp, slamming the slushie machine’s handle back into place. I’ve overfilled it. It hasn’t spilled, yet, but if Ash hadn’t said anything, it definitely would have. As it is, I don’t know how I am going to bring my extra-tall slushie to the guy at the counter with a straight face. The thing looks like a freaking mountain growing out the top of my cup.
Crap.
But Ash just chuckles behind me, and makes a grabby hand at my drink. “Come on,” he says, smiling. “Give it here.” As carefully as I can, I hand over my drink, and he hands me his and turns and starts making his way over to the counter. I can’t help but smile as I realize what he’s doing, and I snag myself a straw before turning to follow him.
He’s letting me hold the normal one, so the guy at the counter won’t comment. And he actually manages to do it with a completely straight face, even when we get to the cashier and the guy’s eyes bug out of his head at the sight of my blue monster.
“Thanks for that,” I say, once we’re back outside again.
“No problem,” he replies, switching our drinks back and taking a sip of his own.
I open my mouth to say something, but he cuts me off with a look and a crooked grin. “Seriously, Star. It was not a problem. Save your thanks for the big stuff.”
“And just what are you doing here,” a voice calls out and we both whip around. I stifle a groan.
It’s Lacey’s boyfriend, the one who was muttering shit about Ash in the diner the day we met. At least, I think it’s him. The other twin is right behind him, though, so it’s either Lacey’s boyfriend or his brother that’s being an asshole. Fantastic.
The guy walks up to us, not waiting for a reply, and steps a little too close to Ash for my comfort. And judging by the look on Ash’s face, he’s not too fond of his new friend, either.
“I guess you weren’t aware,” the guy says, getting up in Ash’s face, “but you’re not welcome here.” The guy has a good six inches on Ash and is staring right down at him. “So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll—”