“I’m happy to help. Seriously, it’s not an issue,” I offered.
I was hoping this would make Amy think I was less of a dick, but she still didn’t look at me. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I pulled out my phone and texted her.
Ashton: What is your issue? I thought you would be okay with what happened?
Amy’s phone vibrated. She looked down at it, then over at me, and sighed. She typed back.
Amy: Seriously, now that our parents are married, it’s over. Just stay out of my way the rest of the summer. Go hook up with one of your groupies I saw on your social media.
Women could be so crazy sometimes, I grumbled inwardly.
Ashton: Really? Wow. Okay. Consider yourself ignored.
We finally got home. I picked out my things from the trunk and saw Amy’s rather heavy purple suitcase and grabbed it as well. She looked for her luggage. When she saw me carrying her bag, she scoffed and followed me up the stairs.
“I could have carried that myself, you know,” she said with an icy voice, so different from her usual sweet, soft one.
“Whatever. I’m just leaving it outside your door.” I plopped her bag down and put mine in my room. I walked back out to see Amy walking out of her room with her shower caddy.
“You can take a damn shower up here. I’m not going to walk in on you, you know,” I said indignantly.
She rolled her eyes at me. “I’ll do what I want.” She stomped down the stairs with her nose in the air.
An ache came over me—the kind I hadn’t felt since my mother left. “Fuck her. Who cares what she thinks?” I mumbled to no one.
I needed to do something—to fix something. Tinkering with my car would work. I threw on an old tank top and some sweatpants, my work clothes. I trudged down the stairs, passed one of the main bathrooms where I knew Amy was fiddling around behind the closed door. The cool air of the garage hit me, and I found it soothing. I closed the door behind me, sealing myself from the world.
I rummaged through some of my tools and rolled myself partially under my car. I began fixing a leak. The leak. The one that had been evading me, the one I could fix. I liked machines and cars because they weren’t complicated. If you had the right parts and the right amount of work ethic, you could fix it. People were far more complex. If something was broken, sometimes you couldn’t fix it, even if you tried.
I didn’t think I could fix things with Amy.
A good hour went by. My phone vibrated. I rolled myself out from under the car and pulled off my gloves, which were covered in grease. Jen, a girl I had known from high school, had texted me. She always did have a crush on me.
Jen: Hey Ashton. Can’t wait for our date tonight. I thought you’d never ask.
Ashton: Hope you like smoking, because that’s what’s up. It’ll be fun.
Jen: Yeah. Wouldn’t smoke anywhere else. You always have the best shit. And that new bong you showed me a pic of looks amazing. We’ll get so high!
Ashton: See you here around eight. You need me to pick you up?
Jen: Yeah. Same place. See you then. Kisses!
I remembered the last party I went to with Jen. We had kissed but nothing else. She had blonde hair, and though I wasn’t usually into blondes, I had to admit she was smoking hot. Her blue eyes and curly hair certainly made up for the hair color. At the end of the day, hair was just hair, anyway. It was the body that really counted, and boy, did she have a nice body.
I looked at my car, deciding I’d had enough for today. I threw my gloves down and took a swig of water. I bounded up the steps. When I opened the door, I saw Amy sitting with her mom and Dad. They were having lunch. My eyes met hers for a moment, and she averted hers quickly. I felt a pang of annoyance; she still couldn’t look at me. What the hell was her problem?
“Hi Ashton! Would you like a sandwich?” Emma asked.
“I’ll take one to go. Have plans tonight I have to get ready for,” I replied, grabbing a salami and Swiss.
“With a girl?” Dad asked.
“Yeah, actually. Jen. She’s coming over. We’re going to play video games,” I said.
Amy’s head snapped up as soon as I said Jen’s name. She looked at me, pure hatred in her eyes. I was taken aback by her intense response. She really was shocked and hurt that I was going to hang out with another girl.
“Very nice,” Emma said, “have fun.”
“I...I will,” I stuttered nervously
No one had ever made me so nervous before, nervous in the sense that I couldn’t handle her negativity towards me. I turned and left, trying to get the image of her hurt expression out of my mind. She shouldn’t be hurt, anyway.
She’s the one who asked for this. It’s not my fucking fault.