Counting Down with You(68)

“And stop calling them hoes,” I add darkly.

Samir rolls his eyes, but there’s an embarrassed flush to his cheeks. “Yeah, okay.”

I arch an eyebrow. “So you’ll stop being misogynistic when a man tells you to?”

My brother groans, the tips of his ears turning red. “Don’t start. It’s not that deep.”

Before I can say how deep it really is, Ace touches my wrist, staying me.

“Just do me a favor and respect your own sister, if no one else.” He waves the ten-dollar bill toward Samir again. “Anyway, do you mind if I speak to Karina privately for a minute?”

Samir grins suddenly. “Sure, dude. Whatever.” He takes the money, salutes Ace, winks at me again, and exits the car.

I sigh after him. “I hope he’s not such a dumbass in a few years. I feel bad for his future girlfriends.”

Ace laughs quietly. “I want to talk to you.” He gestures to the passenger seat. “Before you argue, I’m going to use the magic word. Please come up front?”

I close my mouth silently, wondering when Ace came to know me well enough to predict my actions. I grudgingly climb into the passenger seat and turn to look at him. “What’s so important it couldn’t wait until later?”

“Put on your seatbelt.”

“What? Your car is in Park.”

“Still,” Ace says. “Come on, Karina. It’ll take a second.”

“Who knew Ace Clyde was a safety nut,” I say under my breath. “For all intents and purposes, you should be riding a motorcycle.”

Ace gives me an amused look. “Why’s that?”

“Your whole thing you’ve got going on,” I say, gesturing vaguely. It’s kind of hard to make a point when he’s wearing a peacoat instead of his leather jacket. “With your...other jacket. And stuff.”

“You and my leather jacket,” he says in exasperation. “I’m not even wearing it.”

“Still!”

“Hm. Seatbelt?”

I sigh and buckle myself in. “Happy?”

“Elated,” he says and shifts the gear, pulling out of his parking spot with absolutely no warning whatsoever.

“Where are we going?” I ask, staring at him with wide eyes. “Is this the part where you finally murder me?”

“Yes,” Ace deadpans.

I continue staring at him with wide eyes. I don’t actually think he’s going to murder me, but Allah knows what he has in mind. I might die anyway. If I die because of a white boy, my parents are going to bring me back to life just to kill me again. I’m almost certain I should be making better life choices, but it’s hard when Ace is so... Ace.

“You don’t have to look at me like that,” Ace says, alarmed. “I can turn the car around. I was only joking.”

“Right,” I say and lean back in my seat, sending a silent prayer to Allah that tonight doesn’t seal my fate.

“I was, I swear. I’m not kidnapping you or anything. I’m just taking you out to eat. Where do you want to go?”

That shocks me out of my reverie. “What? What do you mean?”

“Where do you want to go?” Ace repeats, stopping at a red light. “Do you have any preference? Or should we just hit up a Burger King or something?”

“We just ate,” I say. “Not even half an hour ago. You had a chicken burrito, remember?”

“And what did you have?”

I fall silent.

“Yeah, I thought so. There’s a diner up ahead. Do you like fries and milkshakes, or should I keep driving? The milkshakes aren’t as good as the ones at Pietra’s, but they’re still decent.”

“Fries and milkshakes are fine,” I say, mystified. No one has ever paid this close attention to me before.

“Are you just saying that?” he asks, giving me a quick look as he turns into the parking lot. “Because there’s a pizza place down the road and a Chinese restaurant the next street over. It doesn’t matter to me where we go. I just want you to be happy.”

My pulse quickens and I fight to keep my voice steady. “I love fries and milkshakes, Ace. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Always, Karina.”

Always. It’s such a big word, with promises of so much more.

I don’t know about always, but I know about right now.

And right now, I know there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than at this boy’s side.



32


T-MINUS 15 DAYS

Ace drops me off thirty minutes later, after we finish eating french fries in his car. I take half my milkshake home and smile as I walk to my front door, the moonlight shining faintly overhead.

When I come inside, Dadu is sitting on the couch with a distressed look on her face.

I immediately rush to sit beside her. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Dadu looks at me, startled. “Myra. You’re back.” Her face crumples, and it sends a horrible sense of foreboding through me. It’s the same look Dadu had when we were informed my cousin Nabila got kicked out of her house. “Your parents said to call them. They want to talk to you.”

My skin prickles uncomfortably. “About what?”

“Samir...told them about how you went outside today with that Alistair boy.”