It’s not much cooler outside of the car, but sitting in the car, burning the backs of my legs on the leather, is fairly stupid on my part. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I lean up against the closed door. Punching out a quick text, I eagerly await David’s reply.

Five minutes pass in radio silence. After another text, worry starts in.

Only hours after voicing my concerns about something happening to David and he’s not answering. Piece by fragile piece, it feels as if the ground is falling out from below me. Taking a few deep breaths, I manage to calm myself enough to put a logical thought together. Jade’s phone goes right to voicemail and so does Ian’s.

What the hell is going on?

It’s possible that he was called on for another shift after his test and he hasn’t had a chance to let me know yet. Or he could have been in an accident on his way home.

Sitting here thinking about it isn’t helping at all. All it’s doing is letting my mind fill with all the possibilities, each one more grave than the last.

Figuring that I’m rendering myself useless by leaning up against a car which won’t start, I pull up the number to a taxi service. Just as the other end picks up, Tim’s car pulls alongside my dead one. “Can you hold on, please?” I ask as someone answers my call.

Turning toward Tim, I huff in frustration as his passenger window slides down. “Can you give me a lift?”

“Of course,” he answers happily.

“Thanks, but I’m good now, actually,” I dismiss the taxi man.

“Where to, Miss Daisy?” Tim tips his imaginary hat, reaching over to the passenger door and opening it for me.

“Thank you.” Sighing, I slide into the seat and wipe the sweat dripping from my brow. “The freaking thing won’t start.”

“Luckily for you I forgot something inside. Otherwise you would have melted out here in the blacktop wasteland.” His jokes become slightly funnier as the cool air in the car washes over me. “Maybe it’s not as bad as you think. Let me take a look.”

Before I can protest, saying that I’ll have it towed and taken care of later, he’s out the door and opening the hood of my car. Since I know nothing about cars, I mean other than where to put the key and the whole gas on the right and brake on the left thing, I can’t really tell if Tim knows what he’s doing.

I’m too busy sending out more texts to David and calling him that I don’t even see Tim hook up the jump cables to our cars. In fact, I’m so distracted I don’t even realize he’s run up to his classroom, retrieved the books he needed, and returned to the car until the door slams shut.

“So, looks like the battery wasn’t the problem,” he says, sliding into the seat.

“Huh?” I blurt, looking up from my silent phone.

He tips his head at my car sitting in front of us. Not running.

“Your car. You know the thing that goes vroom vroom, drives you places.” Waving a hand in front of my face, he makes sure my eyes are working. “Looks like you’re going to have to have it towed after all. Want me to give you a ride home?”

One last look at my phone and still no responses from anyone. “Please. That would be really nice of you.”

It’s a quiet fifteen minute ride back to my apartment. Even as Tim’s car pulls into the spot usually reserved for me, I can’t tear my focus away from my still silent phone. “Hey,” he says, concerned. Covering my hand with his, he squeezes gently before letting go. “Everything’s fine. Maybe his test ran late. Or he’s stuck in traffic or something like that. There’s no need–”

Twisting in my seat to face him, I sigh, rolling my eyes. “To get worked up over something I don’t know anything about. I know,” I finish his thought for him, taking a deep cleansing breath. “Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it.” Swallowing back the rising emotion, my throat feels thick. What if something really did happen to him? It’s a feeling I just can’t seem to shake. Pushing past my own restraint, a tear rolls down my cheek.

Seemingly without thinking about it, Tim wipes away the tear with his thumb, holding my cheek and jaw in the process. The entire exchange is far too familiar, and not at all the kind of friendship I need right now.

All it does it make me think of David and wonder why the hell he’s not calling me back.

“No problem. Talk to you soon.” We make plans to meet up at least once more before the school year starts to get the room all situated and then I step out of the car.

Walking toward my door, I promise myself not to think the worst. Pushing it open, my eyes are glued to my phone and I don’t even realize what’s going on around me.

The kitchen table to my left is set as if it belongs in the finest restaurant. David is sitting on the couch in front of me, two glasses of untouched champagne waiting on the coffee table.

When my eyes settle on his, relief like I’ve never known washes over me. Rushing to his side, as fast as I can, I nearly stumble over the edge of the area rug. “David,” I cry. “My God, I was so worried. What are you doing here?” My hands race all over his chest searching for anything at all that might be wrong with him. Sure, my imagination is getting the best of me, but I’ve had well over an hour and a half of creating the worst case scenario in my head.

“What am I doing here?” he seethes. “How about what was he doing here?”

“Who?” I question. Defensiveness sets in when I catch wind of his tone. “What are you talking about?”

“Tim. I saw you in his car.” He shoots up from the couch, nearly knocking over the glasses of champagne. “I saw you holding hands so maybe, if you don’t mind,” he snarls with heavy sarcasm. “Maybe you could tell me what the fuck is going on.”

The stuttering noises falling from my mouth are born out of being shocked by how he’s misread the situation. But of course he mistakes it for guilt.

“Unbelievable, Grace,” he shouts, throwing his hands up in the air. “You know,” he laughs, a cynical puff of noise. “It figures it would happen this way. I finally find you and fall for you, harder than I ever fucking thought possible.” Raking his hands through his hair, he stands at the window through which I’m now realizing he saw the scene he’s ranting about as it unfolded.

His broad, strong back is all I see as I stand behind him. Tension-filled anger rolls off him. Even as I wrap my arms around his body from behind, it doesn’t let up. Resting my cheek against his back, I breathe in his clean scent. “It’s not at all–”

Spinning around with a force so strong, he nearly knocks me over, his face twisted in anger and pain. “What I think?” he spits. Finishing my sentence with venom in his words, I pull away from him in disgust. “I don’t even want to hear it. I need to go.”

Storming over to the front door, I beat him to the punch. “Go right ahead. You’re being such an ass right now. Not trusting me and then not even giving me a chance to explain myself. You’re pissed off because of what you thought you saw, but right now I’m angry as fuck at what I’m seeing in your juvenile behavior.”

He stands there, dumbfounded, letting my words hit him. “Just get out.” Holding my arm to the side, I literally show him to the door.

“Grace,” he protests.

“I said get out,” I seethe. “I don’t even want to look at you. How could you not trust me?” Tears threaten and I hold them back. I’ll reserve them for when I’m alone.

“No, I’m not leaving.” He steps toward me, lifting my chin with his fingers. Looking into my eyes, he cringes when he sees the hurt there. Lacing his fingers with mine, he walks us to the couch. He takes a deep breath, turning to face me. “I’m sorry for getting pissed off.” His words are genuine, but still slathered in frustration. “His hands were on you and you were smiling and I lost my shit.” His jaw clenches as he rakes his hands through his hair, pulling on the ends.