I tilt my face up to the sky, squeezing my eyes shut as the sun beats down on my forehead. We’ve been outside in the heat all day and I’m starting to feel nauseous, burning up and sweating. If there’s anything I’ve learned about New York, it’s that the weather can switch between scorching sunlight and rainstorms whenever it wants to. Today, it’s ninety out. I tighten my hand around the plastic cup of iced tea I’ve been drinking for a while and exhale deeply. It’s times like these that I miss being in Santa Monica, where there’s always a pool to dive into no more than fifty feet away from my room. I’ve been taking that luxury for granted until now. There’s no space for pools in back yards here. Hell, I think half the people in the city might not even have back yards. I’m not sure how to cool down. My skin feels like it’s burning, and on the ride back from our day trip to Queens and Brooklyn, I stole a glance at my face in the sun-visor mirror, only to discover that my forehead is burnt. I even have pale circles around my eye sockets from where I was wearing my sunglasses.
“Hot, huh?” Tyler says. He squints up at the sky too, clear blue with not a single cloud in sight, and then glances back down to his car. I don’t know why, but he gingerly presses his hand to the hood. Immediately, he flinches and steps back. He shakes his hand, trying to ease the burn. “Shit.”
Rolling my eyes, I drop to the ground and sit down on the curb of the sidewalk. The concrete is burning hot against my thighs, but after a few seconds it becomes bearable. I set my drink down by my side—it’s too warm and gross now to drink the rest of it anyway—and study Tyler’s car as the sunlight bounces off the glossy white bodywork. A thought arises that’s just too tempting to ignore. “Can I drive your car?”
Tyler stops soothing his hand. Frozen, he looks down at me and then, with a wary expression, he glances back at his Audi. “You? My car? This car?” He bites down on his lower lip and rubs at the back of his neck, uneasy. “Don’t get me wrong, Eden, but . . . you know.”
I place my hands down flat on the sidewalk behind me, leaning back as I squint up at him through the bright sunlight, an eyebrow arched. “You don’t trust me?”
“For starters,” he says quickly, “you drive automatic. My car’s a stick shift.”
“And you think I can’t drive a stick?”
Both Tyler’s eyebrows shoot up, and he stares down at me intensely. “You can?”
“Automatic is the easy way out,” I say, pushing myself up from the ground and straightening up. Challengingly, I narrow my eyes at him and smile. “Stick shift is way better. Keys?”
He gives me a beaming smile and laughs, hooking his arm around my neck and drawing me toward him. “No way in hell,” he says, and promptly plants a kiss on my cheek. Playfully, he pushes me away again.
I knew there was absolutely zero chance of him letting me get behind the wheel of his car, but it was worth a shot. Shrugging, I grab my drink from the ground and head across the street to the apartment building. Tyler follows behind me, stepping into position by my side, interlocking my free hand with his. I think, for the first time, I don’t react. It just feels normal, and Tyler doesn’t make a big deal out of it either, because he simply leads me into the building and toward the elevator, never letting go.
It’s not something we usually ever do—holding hands. That’s what couples do, not what two people keeping a secret do. Today, however, we don’t have to be so cautious. Snake left for Boston this morning to visit his family and won’t be back until tomorrow. Emily is hanging out with some of her friends, the ones she’s made while living in the city. Right now, Tyler and I are in the clear.
We head up to the apartment and I’ve only just stepped foot over the threshold when I decide that I’m going to take a cold shower in an attempt to cool myself down. The moment I tell Tyler this, however, my cheeks flush with color. Thoughts of Thursday night flood my mind, of Tyler and the shower and the rain and the writing and the Bible, and part of me wonders where that night might have taken us if Snake and Emily hadn’t came home so early.
It’s blatantly obvious that Tyler’s thinking the exact same thoughts as I am, because he bites back a smirk. “No problem,” he says.
It’s so unbelievably tempting to slip him some remark about how he should join me, but I know I wouldn’t be able to pull it off. I smile instead, as innocently as I can, turning for the bathroom and tossing my cup of iced tea into the trash as I pass.
Burning up, I strip off my clothes and steal a glance at myself in the mirror. I think I have slight tan lines and my face appears even redder than it did back in the car. Slipping into the shower, I lower the temperature. Freezing is too unbearable, so I keep the water lukewarm and stand under it for a short while. I don’t bother washing my hair, so the second my skin feels like it’s no longer on the verge of bursting into flames, I step out and wrap a towel around my body, holding it close to me as I make my way back into the living room.
At first, it doesn’t occur to me that I’m alone. It’s not until I’ve pulled on a pair of running shorts and a tank top that I realize that the apartment is not only silent, but also empty.
“Tyler?” I call out. I’m standing right in the center of the living room, my hands on my hips and my eyebrows furrowed. I wait a few seconds, but I get no reply. “Tyler?” I yell louder.