I am closing up early today. Ron told me he felt like being generous. For some reason, I do not completely believe that. It isn’t like him to do nice things out of the blue. But it’s also not my place to ask. Plus, I did just get let out much earlier before actual closing time of the library.

_Shut up, Fraya,_ I think. _You just got a free day all to yourself._

As I turn the key to lock the doors, I ponder what kind of things I might do today. Its not everyday I get this much time to myself, so I don’t have anything planned. Heading home is a start. I’ll figure something out there. Besides, Mom will probably be done with her cookies by now and I want to grab one fresh out of the oven.

The sun is beaming down on my face as I walk across the parking lot to my car. Ah, my car. Praying, I grab for the handle of the drivers side. This thing has been on the verge of death for a while now. Nearly every time I drive it, it is always in the back of my mind that it could refuse to work at any given time.

Today seems to be that day, sadly. I twist the key to start it up, but the engine fails.

_C’mon_…

I try once more. It lets out an awful, wrenching sound and then I hear a pop. The car falls silent.

Of course today had to be the day. Of all the days this stupid beast could have chosen to not comply, it had to be the one day where I was let out early. There’s no taking it to the shop now. I have a feeling she’s gone for good. It has been a long time coming.

I growl and my head falls on the wheel of the car. “Why me, why now?” I mumble. There is not even air conditioning and it’s blazing outside. Summer was supposed to be my time to relax. I can assure you I feel the opposite of such an emotion.

To my right, I hear a sudden knock on my window, but ignore it. If it’s a homeless person asking for money _again . . . _

I groan and pick my head up, laying it back dramatically against my seat with my eyes closed. “I don’t have any money . . .” I say.

“That explains _this_ piece of junk, then.” A voice says through the window.

My eyes shoot open.

_No_ . . .

There is no way he is still here. My eyes have to be deceiving me right now. Maybe I’m sick? But when I lift my hand to my forehead, it feels normal. This is real.

I sigh and stare at him, the person who was _supposed_ to leave me be for the rests of the day. He smiles at me, tauntingly, as though he is innocent and could never be untrustworthy. The picture of perfection. But I am no fool. I won’t fall for his perfect green eyes and curly brown hair. Definitely not that devastatingly handsome smile

I roll down my window. “What do you want?”

He holds his hands. “You know, I know someone who specializes with anger issuese—“

“Alright, I’m going.” He stands there and backs away from my car. I roll my window back up and place my hands on the steering wheel.

_Just leave. Just leave, pleaseee_ . . .

A moment passes by. I watch him check his watch from my peripheral vision. I’m beginning to feel the awkwardness of the situation I obviously did not think through. He was supposed to walk away. But he’s not. He’s waiting for _me_ to leave.

“Taking an awfully long time there, aren’t we?” I hear him say.

“I was just about to start up!” I yell. If only my car was working so I could run h—

“Any day now!“ Andrew calls, mockingly.

I twist the key and the engine starts up. My feet curl in my shoes. Oh, please work. But it faltered and gave out. The sound is ugly and strained, then my car gives out a little rock. There is no way I’m going anywhere.

“Ooh . . . Looks like we’re having engine problems, hm? Old car, too.” His voice sounds fuzzy behind my window, but I can hear him perfectly clearly.

_No shit, Sherlock . . ._

He walks infront of my car. This is all too tempting. I could end it right here and noeone would know . . . If only my good-for-nothing car would work. I roll down my window. “What are you doing?” He pops the hood of my car and is instantly hit with large puff of gray exhaust. He stimbles back, coughing and swatting the air as though the air is an irritating little nat. This is worse than I thought.

Once the smoke has cleared, he carefully peers over the hood again with a concerned expression. Its really bad. I could just tell.

He walks over to me and places a hand on the rim of my window. If only windows rolled up so fast that—

He shoots a look to his hand, then back to me, and before I can think anything else, he removes that same hand. It was as though he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“Alright, I’m gunna be completely honest with you—“ I hold my breath for the news. I know this car is done. She has been for a while, but I’ve ignored it again and again. Now I’m stuck at work, with no means to get home other than to walk. But then I’d be charged for having my vehicle parked outside the library past working hours, past the time it closed. The fee would surely be heavy, and I don’t have much money as of now.

I stare at him, awaiting a response. Then finally he lets out a breath. “—I have absolutely no clue what the hell im looking at. I don’t know _anything _about machanics, zero, _zilch—“_

My growing frustration gets the best of me, and I open my mouth. “You little—“

“—but I _do _know that there is no way you can drive this thing.” He’s stating the obvious once more, slapping his hand inconsiderately against my car. I glare at him and feel my lips turn into a thin line.

“Great. Thanks for nothing, now please go—“

I’m about to roll my window back up until he stops my hand with a slow and prolonged “Ah, ah, ah, not so fast, Micheals . . .”

I sigh and roll my eyes. What now? What could he possibly want? He’s already ruined my day thus far.

“I can’t just leave to walk home. That’s such a long way, and you do realize how ungrntlemanly that would be of me.”

I pry my hand from under his as he continues. “You’re riding with me, you know, with myself being the caring, humble person I am, I’m going to take you home out of the kindness of my heart—“

I grab my car keys, bag, and phone, then open my door with such force it hits Andrew in the face. He grunts and stumbles back. “Let’s not waste time, then.” I trudge on ahead towards the only other car in the parking lot.

“Right,” I hear him say. His voice is muffled. He must be holding his nose. Then the sound of footsteps follows me all the way to his car. The sun beams down on me as I reach for the handle of the wine red sports car.

“Wait—!” Andrew appears next to me in an instant. His voice is nasally and there are apparent tears in his eyes. His nose isn’t bleeding or anything, although there will undoubtedly be a bruise replacing the rather large red mark on his left eye and forehead.

I feel a bit bad about it, but not enough to go out of my way to hand out an apology. He’s the one who’s being an annoying little prick.

He unlocks the car with a click of a button and the lights flash. I’m about to reach for the handle once more, but his hand shoots across and grabs it before I even have a chance. “Ladies first!” I can hear the edge to his voice. He’s obviously trying very hard to ignore the fact I opened a door directly on his face. I commend him, momentarily. He’s good at holding back clear irritation, unlike myself. If only were equally as good at concealing it. Neither of which I excel at, but whatever. It’s not like he could read my mind to tell I am being silently hypocritical.

I smile at him, revolting under my breath as he closes the door while I step in and sit down into the more than comfortable front seat of his car. He walks around the front and appears next to me in an instant.

The drive to my house is absolutely a nightmare. He blasts music that causes my insides to boil and shouts out questions and tells stories I only half pay attention to. He’s cocky and annoying, and he knows it, too.

The volume lowers as we stop at a red light. “You know, you could try to be more polite. I’m sure people would like you more. Might even make some friends—“

I whirl to the side to face him. “What makes you think I don’t have any friends?” If only I could open another door on his face.

The light turns green and he takes a smooth left into my neighborhood. “You work at a library Mondays through Saturdays all the way from ten in the morning to seven.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” I protest.

“I would argue it means a lot, especially now that you’re angry I brought it up.”

“I— you—“ I stammer on what to say. “You’re the reason I’m so angry!”

“Is it because I have friends?”

“I don’t care about your stupid friends! — not Sal, not Jay, not Gilbert!” I shout.

All this does is make him smirk. “I’m flattered you took the time to learn my friends names, Michaels. Do you really watch me that often?” My silence only makes him laugh. He turns onto my road. My stop is just two houses down.

I growl and cross my arms over my chest. This conversation is over and today is officially the worst day ever. Never have I been so disrespected in my whole life. What a jerk. Of course I have friends! I— I . . . can’t seem to think of anyone, though, that I might consider to be a friend. There have been people who have attempted to speak to me. But I always ignored them because I thought they were simply being nice because I was the only one sitting alone while I watched Andrew Stupid Grey, and his friends act like nut cases, and pretended not to mind. But a part of me, deniably, did care, and I despise it.

Finally, the car slows infront of my house. I don’t hesitate to unbuckle before he’s even stopped. Then I’m out of the car while I hear a mocking “See ya later.”

The bright yellow door to my house opens and my mom stands in the doorway in her blue robe and gray hair pulled up into a bun. She must’ve been reading. She looks to me, then to Andrew and waves at him. He greets her and compliments her knew glasses before pulling out and driving away.

I feel mothers gaze boring into my back, and the deliberate smirk that follows. “Is that Andrew Grey? — so handsome. He’s a nice boy, Fraya.”

I drop my car keys on the table. “No, mom. He’s not.” But I still feel her mocking smile as she watches me march upstairs to my room.

_Unbelievable_.