Kieran watched her go, his smile fading as utter confusion set in. He'd known of Katie, obviously. Anyone within fifty miles of town knew of the Petersens. He'd seen her around, but she'd never spoken to him before. In fact, until she'd asked him about the survey for the student paper yesterday, she'd given no sign she even knew he existed.
Kieran felt the envious, resentful eyes of other boys on him and squirmed beneath their scrutiny. He wasn't used to being noticed. In fact, he went out of his way to avoid it. He wanted no part of any sort of drama, but Katie, whether she realized it or not, brought drama along for the ride with her. The mere fact that she'd been talking to him put Kieran on the entire student body's radar--and, potentially, a target sign on his back.
He tried not to ogle at Katie as she disappeared around the corner. But dammit, Kieran was a healthy teenager, and she...
He swallowed. "Beautiful" didn't do Katie Petersen justice. She was beyond such descriptors. Everything about her, from her toned legs to her angelic face to the lustrous sheen of her hair and the color of her eyes, seemed impossibly perfect. Flawless. Katie seemed almost to float above the mundane concerns of ordinary life, untouched by the grubbiness of the world around her. She seemed almost ethereal, a vision of womanhood made flesh.
Kieran was not one to gossip, but he had overheard some of the other guys in his classes say that Katie Petersen didn't date. He wasn't surprised. Her gorgeousness was intimidating, sapping the confidence of any guy who ventured near her like some sort of force field. Those who'd been able to overcome it had all been gently but firmly turned down.
And yet, not only had Katie gone out of her way to speak to him, she'd somehow gotten herself invited to his house! Something about her smile and the cheerful, down-to-earth way she spoke made Kieran lower his guard, almost as if she cast some sort of spell over him. Now that she'd left, the spell had broken, and he felt a fresh wave of panic despite the reassurances she'd given.
What was he going to do? He'd never had a girl over before! Would she really not mind the messy state of the house? What if she got her uniform dirty while he showed her around the shop? What if--
Kieran shut his eyes tight and took several deep breaths. Don't overthink it, he thought through clenched teeth. This is just a friend coming over to hang out. Don't even dare think otherwise.
Friend. The word sounded rusty. Unused. Kieran didn't have a lot of friends to begin with, and his mother's death had sent him right into isolationism. What few friends he did have became distant as Kieran stopped hanging out with them, and now, three years after her passing, he still had no desire to try rekindling any of those relationships. Grief robbed him of that, as it had so much else. Even the mere memory of his mother's face was too painful to bear. He pushed it away with an effort.
Whoever said all wounds heal with time was a fucking idiot, he thought sourly, shoving his hands in his pockets.
But Katie...something about her cut through the gloom that surrounded his life like a ray of sunshine streaming through an overcast sky. Her positivity and kindness both surprised and disarmed him. She exuded a kind of warmth that had been missing from his world for far too long, and now that she was no longer nearby, it was twice as noticeable by its absence.
Kieran tried to picture Katie Petersen in the repair garage, surrounded by tools and metal and engine grease, and couldn't help a chuckle. She'd seemed genuinely interested, but how long would that last? Not long, probably, he thought with a melancholy sigh. I'll just have to enjoy it while I can.
His anxiety grow more intense as the day wore on. Kieran shuffled from one class to another, doing his best to muddle through, but his heart just wasn't in it. When the final bell rang, it might as well have been a funeral gong.
This could be fun. This could be fun. Don't worry, it'll be okay...
Even as the words crossed his mind, Kieran didn't believe them. He just hoped that Katie wouldn't be too disappointed or put off.
No. She said she wasn't like that. She promised. She said she didn't care.
He wanted to believe her. So very much.
But what if she doesn't show up at all?
Kieran stopped in mid-stride. He hadn't considered that possibility, but it was a real one. What if Katie did flake? Would he be disappointed? Relieved? Both?
Kieran never discovered the answer to that question. When he walked out of school, Katie was waiting for him in the parking lot.
He sucked in a breath at the sight of her. He couldn't help it. Nor could he help the sudden surge of blood to a very particular part of his anatomy when the wind rustled her uniform skirt, showing just a peek of her inner thighs.
"Hi, Kieran!" Katie said, waving before running over to meet him halfway.
He probably should have responded with a greeting of his own, but instead all he could manage was, "You came."
"Duh." She rolled her eyes. "Of course I came, silly! So, you ready to head out? We could stop and grab something to eat first if you'd like, My treat."
"Oh, uh, n-no, that's okay." Kieran shook his head, trying to smile. "I appreciate it, really, but I'm not hungry."
"Of course you're hungry," Katie said matter-of-factly. "You're a guy."
Kieran flushed.
"Come on, let me do this for you," Katie insisted. She put her hand on his arm again and her touch was like a jolt of pure energy. How many boys had Katie Petersen touched, even casually? Not many. Of that Kieran was certain.
"Well...okay. If you really want to, but there's no pressure or anything."
"I know," she said. Katie looked down the line of cars in the parking lot. "So, which one's yours? I'm curious."
"I'll show you," he said quietly. "This way."
He led her past more than a dozen vehicles, some of which looked shiny enough to be fresh from the dealership. Don't be embarrassed, he told himself as he walked. You worked hard to fix it up. You spent months repairing it. Be proud. It doesn't matter that her dad has more cars in his garage than there are rooms in my house. It doesn't matter that she's used to riding in sports cars, it doesn't--
He almost walked right past it, so absorbed was he in his thoughts, but thankfully Kieran stopped himself just in time. "Here. This is it."
"It" was a small, silver-colored pickup truck, one that looked like it might have been built when Reagan was still president. It was a modest little vehicle, old but clearly well-maintained and cared for. Kieran had seen to that personally.
"It was a rustbucket when my dad got a hold of it," he said. "A real junker. Nothing worked--not the engine, not the brakes, not the steering, nothing. Dad said that if I could fix it up, I could keep it." He fished out his phone--an aging flip phone, not an Iphone--and showed her a picture on it. It was clearly the same vehicle, but the difference was as stark as night and day. The truck in the picture looked like it was left outside to rot for a decade. It was covered with rust and the driver's side door hung crazily from its hinges. It had no tires, no windshield, no mirrors, and no upholstery in the cabin.
"You fixed all of that?" Katie gasped.
"Yes."
"How long did it take?"
"About three years. I started when I was 15. Some of the parts I had to hunt down individually. The truck's a 1984 Ford Ranger, so it took a lot of time and patience. A lot of car shops don't carry parts that old; you have to go to parts dealers who specialize in the older stuff. It wasn't cheap either. I had to work two, sometimes three jobs in order to afford some of it."
'Did you dad help you at all?"
"No. He said it was my project, and I needed to stand on my own two feet. I'm glad of it, too. Sometimes you need to do things yourself, instead of relying on someone else to help you."
He couldn't have known it then, but that remark raised Katie's opinion of him considerably. Katie understood all too well the value of self-reliance and independence. Her grand plan to have a baby was built on the assumption that she'd have to take care of everything on her own.
