Wreck Me (Nova #4)(21)
Author: Jessica Sorensen

“Hopefully within the next year. I actually take five classes a semester so I’m pretty close to doing fast track. I was taking six at one point, but between my job and… stuff I just couldn’t keep up.”

“It sounds like you have a lot on your plate.” She takes her phone out and swipes her finger across the screen. Then she raises the phone like she’s going to snap a picture. But then a red dot glows from the upper section of her phone and I realize she’s recording something.

“I do,” I reply, wondering what the hell she’s doing. “Why are you videotaping the yard?”

She sweeps the camera across the land before shutting it off. “I just record things sometimes.”

“Like for fun?”

“Well, fun and for documentaries. It’s a hobby of mine.”

“That’s actually pretty cool. Would I have seen anything that you’ve made?”

“Nah, I’m not popular or anything. It’s mostly for my own personal satisfaction, but I could show you some stuff sometime if you want.”

“That sounds like fun.” I’m being honest too. It does sound fun, but I’m not sure I can picture myself hanging out and having fun with someone as carefree as Nova.

Her eyes suddenly light up. “You know what we should do? Go out and do something fun on your short break from school. Then, afterward, you can come by and we can have like a movie night with Quinton and Tristan.” That was her persuading argument the last time I went out with her, only that time was for a celebration. When I asked her what she was celebrating she simply said, “Life.” I decided I liked her after she said it.

The concept baffles me. The four of us hanging out, having fun, me letting my walls down, allowing them into my life, while what? I make Jax stay home and babysit Mason? While I bail on Mason? The concert caused enough guilt for me to last a lifetime. Plus I hate the idea of leaving the two of them home alone now that Conner has started calling me again.

“Sorry, but I can’t.” Sighing, I gather my tool belt from the ground. “I have to work at the bar tonight and pretty much every night this week.”

“Well, that, like, double sucks.” She plops on a hard hat then starts in the direction of where her boyfriend Quinton is working on the frame of the home.  “Maybe this weekend instead?”

I offer her the best smile I can as I loop the belt around my waist. “I’ll have to check my schedule but, yeah, maybe.”

“Sounds good. Yay, I’m so excited!” She skips over to a half built wall, retrieving a hammer from the ground on her way.

I watch her, feeling jealous as she wraps her arms around her boyfriend and places a kiss on his cheek. It’s not because her boyfriend’s hot or anything that I’m graced with the green monster. Well, he is, but my jealousy stems from the fact that Nova is about my age, living her life stress free. I’m jealous/envious and don’t like myself very much because of it.

Tearing my attention off the two of them, I put on a hardhat then return to my designated work area, by old Mister Shorty/Sexist. He greets my arrival with a dirty look then mutters something about women having it so easy, being able to take long breaks, before hammering the crap out of a board. I want to kick him and tell him how wrong he is, but bite my lip because the last thing I need is more stress in my life.

I concentrate on hammering, which I’m getting better at doing. As the sounds of power tools and music overlap my thoughts, I end up zoning out while I work on finishing up the wall. I’m really getting into it when someone taps me on the shoulder. Startled, I drop the hammer and it almost lands on my foot.

“Holy crap.” I press my hand to my heart as I catch my breath. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Wilson, the foreman, chuckles. “Yeah, I can tell.” He’s quite a few years older than me and taller with facial hair, and he’s wearing a hardhat. “Sorry about that. I said your name a few times but you didn’t seem to hear me.”

“Must be the hardhat,” I lie, bending down to scoop up the hammer from the ground.

Wilson gives me another smile. He seems like a nice guy, at least nice enough to tolerate my spastic behavior. “Yeah, probably.” He points at something over his shoulder, giving a quick glance at Mister Asshole. “I was wondering if you could help out over at the table saw?”

“Seriously?” I ask with wariness as I slide the hammer into my belt. “You want me to work a large cutting tool after what I just did with the hammer?”

He nods with reassurance. “Don’t worry, there’s someone already over there. You’ll just be there to help.”

I wonder if Mister Asshole tattled on me?

“Okay, I can do that.”

“Good. Thanks.” Wilson checks off something on a clipboard then I maneuver around the tools and head to the table saw that’s out back. It’s not until I round the corner that I see who I’ll be helping.

Tristan.

He’s leaning over the table, sweat glistening across his bare chest and back as he runs a board carefully through the blade. Every time he moves, every single one of his lean muscles tightens and ripples. The invisible pull instantly seizes me by the legs and nearly jerks them out from under me.

What is it with this guy?

Better yet, what is it with me whenever I look at this guy?

I haven’t spoken to him since a couple of mornings ago when I helped him with his cut.  We’ve crossed paths a lot though but have just given each other polite smiles and waves, although he always looks like he wants to say more. He probably would if I didn’t run off like there was a fire every time I was near him.

But there’s no avoiding him now, so I might as well get it over with.

I slowly approach the table, observing him the entire way. The fact that he looks like he belongs in a construction porn fantasy doesn’t make the situation any easier. I allow myself ten seconds to admire the view before I slip off the hardhat and as casually as I can, stroll up to him. He doesn’t notice or hear me until he shuts off the saw and turns to set the board down.

His eyes immediately widen when he catches sight of me, but he shakes the initial shock off. “Hey, long time no see.” That half-smile surfaces although it’s forced.

“Hey, long time no see, yourself,” I respond with a stiff smile. “So what have you been up to?”

“The same thing as you—building a house.”  There’s zero playfulness in his tone and I find myself missing the sound.