As I picked up the cold, stupid, heavy thing, my mind began racing for excuses. I came out to find it shattered, I could say, but then they would promptly ask me where I was. They wouldn’t quite believe it got broken at Margot’s house, a house safely tucked inside a gated community.
I accidentally smacked the seat belt into it. Except I wasn’t sure you could even break a window with a seat belt. Plus, if they found out it was even remotely my fault, I’d be grounded until they shipped me off to college.
Margot might know someone who could fix a broken window. The girls at Eastview might, too—they were resourceful. Street-smart. That’s how I got my fake ID. I just had to hide the damage for a night. I could say I left my windows rolled down because…well, I’d have to think of a reason why. How hard could it be?
I stood back from the car, lifting the cement piece. Drawing in an icy breath, I squeezed my eyes shut, and then I—
“Whoa, what are you doing?”
The sound of someone’s voice so close to me made me yelp in surprise, whirling around, cement still poised to throw.
“Don’t shoot,” he quickly got out, and then winced.
Harry stood a few feet from me, a light-wash jean jacket over his shoulders, wind threading its fingers through his auburn hair. His eyes were wide, his eyebrows raised. Both hands were level with his shoulders, and looped around a finger in one hand hung his car keys.
For a second, I just stood staring at him, watching as his eyes darted from me to the rock in my hand to the SUV.
“It’s my car,” I told him, my voice even.
“That’s good,” he replied, but I couldn’t tell if he fully believed me. His expression was unreadable. “Why, exactly, are you about to shatter your window?”
“My keys.” The confusion didn’t clear from his gaze. “They’re inside.” And then I added, with a gesture at the car, “It’s locked.”
Good grief, Stella, where’s that flirty attitude from last weekend? Apparently it’d gotten locked in the car along with my keys.
Harry eyed the cement piece. “Seems a bit extreme. Why not call someone to bring a spare set?”
“Can’t.” Get a grip, Destelle.
After another second of silence, the tension left from his mouth. “One sec,” he said after a moment, taking a backward step. He pointed a finger at the cement in my hand. “You should put that down.”
“Not through the car window,” I said for clarification, my voice finally gaining some of its life back.
It caused Harry to smile. “Definitely not.”
