Ruining His Summer

Chapter Eight: The Pursuit of Phone Numbers

When we picked up Elsie, the conversation went cold as soon as she opened the door then forced me farther down the seat, closer to Abe, and then she squished next to me.

To my left was Elsie, a girl with blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, in jeans and a gray T-shirt. And to my right was Abe, a guy who smelled like shampoo and Degree Men’s deodorant.

Half way to the Roberts, Abe squirmed in his seat. “Move your elbow,” he grumbled, shifting his weight. He winced when I dug my elbow deeper into his ribs, once again feeling the washboard he had hidden under his shirt. There was no way that they were actually his abs.

When he came to a stop, Elsie’s hand scrambled for the seatbelt. She was so small that she needed jump down from the truck.

I looked at the yard, slightly disappointed. I was hoping that Kel would be on the porch swing with her new, hotter boyfriend that had bigger biceps than Abe, if that’s even possible but as someone who wanted him to have a painful death, I had to believe it was.

“I guess you avoided seeing your ex after all. Sighing, I starting wriggling my body away from his, my foot slipping out of my flip-flop in the process.

Abe reached down and grabbed my sandal before I could. It wasn’t fair because it was right next to his foot. He held it out and when I reached for it, he moved my shoe.

I rolled my eyes, leaning across the seat to grab my purple flip-flop but he held it further away. “Abe,” I said, glaring.

“Silvia,” he mocked, rolling his own blue eyes at me. He handed me my shoe, watching me as I dropped it to the mat and slid my foot inside. “I need your number.”

I scrunched my nose. “What?”

He hesitated, running his fingers over the wheel. “I need your number,” he said again, his face growing red. He was avoiding looking at me too.

“You’re not my type,” I told him flatly before I started sliding for the door again. I didn’t get very far because he grabbed my elbow and tugged slightly.

Abe sighed through his nose.  “We need your number in case you have to contact us.”

I thought about this for a moment. I didn’t know why he would need, let alone want, to contact me but then again, there was Norman. “No.”

“Silvia,” he said, his authoritative voice back. It was like a switch with him. “Don’t make this difficult. I’m already late by—” he glanced at the clock and sighed heavily—“twenty minutes.”

“You don’t need my number,” I retorted. “Name one reason why you would need to contact me?”

He thought for a moment. “In case there’s a cancellation in meetings,” he said, looking up like the reasons were written on the ceiling, “there are lots of options. . . I don’t know.”

“But you can only think of one,” I said, staring blankly at him.  

He looked exasperated. “You asked me to only name one.”  

“I think having my number has nothing to do with Guidians,” I told him, one leg dangling down the side of the truck, almost touching the ground. “I think you want someone to have phone sex with.”  

His deep tanned cheeks got even redder. He rubbed his hand over his face to try to cover it up. “You did not just say that,” he groaned, titling his head back, eyes closed and long lashes casting a shadow down his face.  

I smiled. “I did,” I said and he groaned again. It was a low, deep sound and it made me wonder.  

“Will you just tell me your number already,” he said, or more like mumbled. His color was still a deep red and he hadn’t looked at me once.