I didn't think I'd actually have to ask him about it so soon. I'd carefully avoided Tyler throughout the school week— which was quite easy since he's a senior, making most of his classes situated third floor, west wing. The same way Pamela avoided me, or we both avoided each other. Whichever. I had no courage to try talking to her a second time or even go into the cafeteria, and she made sure to miss all her English classes. The only class we share together.
The only time our eyes were forced to meet was when I really just had to eat in the cafeteria. Wednesday. I sat alone that day. The larger center table was filled with mostly guys from the baseball team, only a few of the football guys were a part of the table. Thankfully, Tyler wasn't one of them.
Pamela had been laughing, looking all bubbly, blonde and happy without me. But as soon as our eyes met, I watched her face slowly go sour. The thing that hurt the most, and still kind of hurts, is the evident sadness she had in her eyes before blinking away. The fact that I caused it.
What would've happened if I'd told her about Tyler and I a month ago?
"You work here?" A voice asks, bringing me back to reality. Bringing me back to himself, Tyler Jones. A reminder of the fact that he just pushed his matte black truck into our workshop.
"It's Martinez works, so like, if you kinda do the math—"
"Yeah, I get it. I know it's your dad's but... you work here." He utters the last part as if he's the one just making me realize that I do, in fact, work here.
The small smile his lips form has me blushing. From head to toe so I avert my eyes, as well as the conversation. "I do. This... isn't your regular car."
I begin rounding the vehicle, faking I'm giving it a minor check when in reality, with every step I take, I'm cursing why the hell Tyler had to come today. Now. Why did his truck have to stop working now. And around here. I might not be the best makeup user, as a matter of fact, any makeup brand depending on my purchase would probably dissolve within a month— but!
But at least I always try to look presentable whenever there's possibility of running into him.
Right now i'm in a mechanical jumpsuit. I just — though, happily— performed major jobs on two cars. I have sweat and engine oil all over my face and oversized outfit.
Long story short, I look anything but cute.
"You noticed."
I can hear the smirk in his voice but I ignore it. "What's wrong with the truck?"
He chokes on a cough... or a laugh. What's funny?
"Am I suppose to have that discussion with you?"
"Is that supposed to be sexist?" I ask back.
"No, I—" His eyes dart around the quiet arena like he's searching for something. Someone. Someone else besides me to cater to his truck problem.
"Tyler," I breath out, annoyed. Though I'm not exactly annoyed at his question, it's expected. I got that from the two car owners I worked with, and they were surprised I actually got the job done. I've been practicing doing tougher jobs... but I was low key surprised too. Then I got confident and told them not to come back because they wouldn't have to. Basically parroting one of the many cocky lines i've heard from other workers through the years.
The truth is I'm more annoyed with Tyler because he's seeing me in this god-forsaken outfit. He just had to come today. The truck just had to fail around here.
"I'm not in a mechanical overall with engine oils stained on parts of my body I wish it wasn't— for fun. I work here... well, volunteer. Since it's not like I'm not on the payroll or anything..." where was I? "If you don't want me to work on your truck, I could get someone else."
"Okay."
I pause. "Okay, what?"
"Okay, I'd like to someone else." He shrugs. The shrug is so carefree that i want to rip off the shoulder that shrugged.
I can't, of course. "Fine."
He nods.
"Very fine then, I'll get you someone else."
Every step I take inside is supposed to be swift enough to not let Tyler catch up to me, but he does. His tall, lean muscle frame comes up beside so we're now walking side by side. Feet crunching against gravel is the only sound around us. And after a while of trying to walk faster, I give up.
"Look," he cuts in, smiling with a hint of laughter in his voice. "I'm not sexist."
"You have a strange way of proving it."
"Is not trusting just you alone to work on my truck, enough to prove me sexist?"
"In my books." I keep my gaze ahead, steps steady.
Steady till he comes up in front of me. "Come on."
"What?"
"Are you really that mad? I can't be blamed, 'cause not only do you look like a new employee, whether or not you aren't— but you're also pretty fragile."
"Fragile?" I echo in disbelief. "Fragile or I'm a girl?"
"Fragile."
"Well, you shouldn't judge books by their covers."
"Yet we all do, tell me you don't."
I do. If the cover isn't nice, the book just can't be.
But admitting that won't help my side if the argument so I make a face at him, then corner his large figure to keep walking. I hear a light chuckle before he once again shows up by my side.
Not long after, we get into the actual garage where cars are piled and about six workers are hoisted beside individual vehicles, performing their magic on them. I'm closer to a new guy named David. He's also one of the younger ones, being probably only two or three years older than me. And he smiles once he spots my arrival.
Laughing whilst getting up, he nods his head at me. "Don't tell me you need help? You've been doing great all day."
"I don't." I tell him. "But sexist here, Tyler—"
"Tyler Jones?" David's eyes grow a size bigger as he takes in the NFL player. And it's been so long since I acknowledged the height of Tyler's status. David's a football enthusiast.
"Jesus, I'm not sexist."
"Patriarchal." I correct. "And would rather have a man work on his truck."
"You're Tyler Jones." David says, completely ignoring me and my rant about how the aforementioned is definitely not a feminist.
Tyler stares to me as if to help. That's shocking for a second.
As normal as it's become to see Tyler, he's a celebrity. An actual one. But the first time I'm finding out celebrities are also humans like the rest of us, is right now.
"Yes, he is." I step in. "And he'd love his truck ready in about... ten minutes?"
"Yeah, ten minutes." Tyler confirms, nodding harder than he needs to. I swallow a laugh.
David slowly steps out of his awe-struck zone and back to work. Cleaning his hands on the rag again, he starts on his way outside. Then halts, turning back. "Um."
Both Tyler and I trade a look.
"Can I get a handshake?" David asks once he's in front of Tyler. "My hands aren't squeaky clean or anything and I—"
Before he even gets to finish, Tyler's offering him a firm handshake. Plus a smile. "Nice to meet you."
David returns the smile, "Ditto."
For the next... three minutes? we hang out outside, with him, Tyler, asking trivial questions about me working here. And then me calling him sexist.
"When are you gonna let this go?"
"Never." I reply, hoisting myself up on Sir Neo's BTX truck, opposite a super hot Tyler Jones. A boy dressed in a regular black hoodie shouldn't be so attractive. "Are you scared?"
"Never is a long time."
"Depends." I blurt. He goes quiet and I wonder if he knows what I mean. I wonder if he's thinking of all the things I'm thing about that'll make 'never' not a very long time. Since he's not out of the NFL like I had suspected, then there's a hundred percent assurance he'll be going back. Back to New York. That our friendship or whatever we had will be entirely dissolved with almost nothing to prove it ever existed in the first place. Except probably my broken friendship with Pamela. The following regret for choosing something as fleeting as being with Tyler, over a friendship of many years.
I always wonder if I'll regret it. So, I try not to wonder at all.
"What's on your mind?" Tyler asks, his voice coming out thoughtful. Like he really does know of the negative possibilities going on in my head. And like he wants to counter them, blow them away by telling me he'll stay. That whatever we have means something to him, it's not just another chapter in his life story.
But there's also a possibility that he'll reaffirm my thoughts. Tell me I'm right. I don't want to face reality yet.
"There's something I want to ask."
"Shoot." He answers simply. Somehow, I wish he stalled instead, stalled long enough for us to be interrupted. That way I'll be able to tell Victoria I tried asking, Circumstances just didn't allow.
"Okay. It's about your brother." My lips purse on their own accord as I study him. If the mention of his brother affects him, he's doing a good job hiding it. Though I notice his shoulders are less relaxed.
"What about him?"
"You told me he died in a car accident. But when I looked him up, I saw his cause of death was unknown."
While it's probably just seconds, it feels like hours pass with Tyler remaining unresponsive. And the evening is so quiet.
"Aren't you going to say anything?"
"What do you want me to say?" His voice is way too calm. Cold.
"I don't know... you could say anything. I'm just confused."
"I'm pretty sure if you searched longer you'd know better. Then you won't be so confused."
Okay. "You're mad, aren't you?"
He gets up from the make believe seat, dusting the back of his pants with his hands. "Is the truck ready yet?"
"Tyler, see, I didn't mean to look your brother up on the internet. It wasn't even intended at all. I just... I don't know you. Besides what teen magazines tell us, or what I see I don't know you. And it's kinda scary when you think about it 'cause I've told you things about me my best friend only suspects."
"Well, ex best friend." I add after thinking about it.
"What's your point?"
"My point is, the only thing you've told me about yourself seems to be false. I don't appreciate being lied to." Don't start acting like a saint. I wave Victoria's words from yesterday away. "I just don't get it. If you were uncomfortable with telling me the truth, you could've said nothing at all."
"Melissa, if you wanted answers, you could've searched longer. Why ask the internet fifty percent and come to me for the rest?"
This is the last nerve. How can someone be so.. so insufferable?
"You're such a wall. You're hot then you're cold."
"Excuse me, are we talking about you or me? 'Cause the only one who's hot and cold is you. The one who keeps pushing the other away is you."
"But I wouldn't lie to you."
"How would I know? It's not like I've searched up the things you've said to confirm if they're true or not. I just choose to trust you enough."
"You don't get me."
I repeat myself when he crouches down to where he just stood up from, holding his head like he's having a migraine.
"Are... are you okay?"
"It was an overdose." Tyler answers.
I don't say anything. T was right.
"He offed himself."
"Oh."
When he sighs it's like he's heaving out more than a breath. Like he's breathing out everything that's ever kept him together.
"I came home one day after practice." He explains, voice broken. "Called after him from downstairs. No response so I went up to his room, knocked and knocked. Tried to kick the door open but I couldn't."
He, for the first time since he started talking, looks up at me. But his eyes aren't fixed on me, don't seem to be, rather his crystal blue eyes reveal that he's not here. He's in front of that bedroom door he knocked in 2018.
"Dad came home. I told him about it so we were both begging him to open up. Well, I was begging. Dad demanded he opened up." He lifts his face up to stare at the evening sky. "If I were fast enough, if I'd shown up earlier, if I'd been strong enough to kick that door open, he'd have remained alive."
"No, there's no assurance of that. There's nothing you could've done." I attempt in consoling.
"There's so much I could've done." He brings his face back down. "When we broke the door open, Christian was there. All blue. And he was at the edge of his bed where multiple bottles of pills were scattered by his feet. He was dead."
With him pausing, our surrounding goes quiet. Nothing I say will be useful.
"Dad thought it was best to keep the details from the press even though they asked. Asked and asked and asked. To piss dad off they put up unknown as Christian's cause of death." My laptop's lighted up screen with the word unknown flashes before my eyes.
"I'm sorry."
The way he sharply turns to me sends a shiver down my spine. I wrap my arms over myself.
Just then, David pops up behind him, swiftly approaching us. A friendly smile on his face too that doesn't at all match the mood.
"Truck's all good." He says. I try to force a smile. "Didn't have so much of a problem, little oop here and there." I've noticed he loves using the word 'oop' to explain minor car problems, I always find it funny but not now. Not really.
When neither Tyler nor I say a thing, he kinda gets the memo that we weren't exactly having the happiest conversation.
Regardless, "Wanna come check it out?"
"Sure, uh..." Tyler answers as if just snapping out of a trance. I partially snap out of the supposed trance too. "What's the bill?"
"Oh, no. It's on the house." I'm quick to offer before David can respond. But Tyler doesn't seem the least pleased.
He focuses his piercing icy gaze on me, though the rest of his face remains what T described him as. Emotionless. Stone cold. "What's the bill?"
Stepping out of the dressing room, having switched my mechanical overall for regular jeans and a black top, the first person I see is Sir Neo.
He's seated on an office chair behind the only desk around, offering his infamous fatherly grin once I come into view. "Set for home?"
"Yes.." I hesitate. "You know, I'd have loved to stay longer , it's dad who doesn't want me out past 8pm."
He waves it off. "Not to make you feel less important, but I'm certain the shop can survive without you for the next few hours."
I laugh, putting on my jacket for warmth. "Alright, Sir Neo, I'll go now."
"Go, go. That little fella's been waiting too long."
Little who?
"What fella has been waiting?"
"The one that came through the back." He answers, nodding like I should know who the person is. I don't. "Your friend, isn't it?"
"My friend? I don't have any..." Tyler?
No way. There's no way Tyler could've been waiting outside for me, not only because he left hours ago- at least an hour ago. But also due to the fact that we didn't end on a very jovial note.
The screen doors automatically close once I walk out, and I take quick but careful steps down the small stairway.
My phone lights up just when I'm getting to Main Street. It's the driver I'd called for. Please better not cancel on me. He can't cancel on me. "Hello?"
"Yes, hello."
"Are you nearby? I'm already out of the shop."
"Yes, I'm only two streets away."
A huge whoosh of breath leaves through my lips. He's near, that's good.
But about this fella...
While the time being only a few minutes to eight o'clock has the street dark, the overhead streetlights help. So in no time I do spot a familiar truck. A familiar matte black truck.
Quickening my steps, then hesitating, then quickening- rinse and repeat- I make it face to face with the truck. Or side to side, I don't know.
After swiftly examining the tinted windows, I knock on the drivers side. He lets his window down, revealing his true identity. I was right, after all. "Hey."
"How long have you been out here?"
"Long?" He answers as if scared he'll be called a stalker. "Just a while."
I don't say anything. Not really sure what to say and how to feel. Flattered? Not flattered..?
"Look," He gestures for me to move away a little, as soon as I do that, he opens the door of his side, sitting in a position to face me. "I'm sorry."
I blink. But when I get myself, "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone all cop on you and your... your brother. Considering the circumstances."
His jaw ticks, though he seems to push any emotions that caused it away. "You're right about me not being comfortable telling you the truth. I don't know... I just said the first thing that came to mind. And that was a car accident. Nevertheless, I shouldn't have lied to you."
I nod once. As well as ignore the lightness my heart suddenly feels. Had our little argument really gotten me so down?
"You got a ride home?"
As if on cue, a car I know well, corners it's way into the street. Bright orange headlights nearly blinding me.
"That's probably my ride." I tell him.
However, the car drives right past us. It's when I'm staring at it from behind that I see I don't know the car as well as I thought I did. In fact, it's not any of my dad's cars.
"Your ride?"
My lips part in surprise. He claimed to be only two streets away, what's taking so long? How come that's not him?
My phone buzzes once again in my pocket, checking the caller ID, it's him.
"Hello, I'm outside." He tells me.
What? Is this a joke? "I'm the one who's outside."
There's shuffling on the other end of the line and it feels like ages that I wait for him to respond. Till it hits me.
"What branch are you at?"
"The one on the hillside, two-way street." He answers, genuine confusion in his voice. I mentally face palm myself.
"I'm sleeping outside tonight."
"Huh?"
"Nothing." I say in a stronger voice. "Know what, don't worry about the ride anymore."
"Are you sure, miss Martinez?"
"Very. I'll walk home." I don't wait for him to respond before cutting the line.
I definitely should've called someone who's driven me before. Someone who knows the exact and only branch I work at. But in my defense, this driver's name was the first I spotted in my contacts and I didn't have time to keep scrolling.
Well, see where that led me.
"Is... 'walk home' another word for coming with me?" Tyler asks, cutting into my forlorn thoughts.
While his question sounds a bit cute, the gravity of the situation only has me getting more irritated.
Still, I sigh. "If it wouldn't be a bother."
He scoffs, then goes into the car to open the passenger side for me.
Once I'm in, seatbelt strapped, I stare ahead through the windshield. Not allowing the fact that we're in such a confined space together, alone and at night, get into my head.
Tyler turns on the air conditioner, but doesn't necessarily start the car. Now this is when fear settles in. Why aren't we moving? Alone and at night doesn't look so romantic now that I think about it.
"Jason thinks you're my girlfriend." He says lowly into the cool night air. I know pretty much everyone on the football team so a tall lean guy with blonde hair and a friendly face comes into my mind's eye.
"Really?"
He finally sets the car into motion, nodding while staring ahead. "Really."
I turn to the side to face him, finding he was already staring. His lips curl to a slow smile before he begins driving.
So focused on the road, he can't see me anymore. But I'm smiling.