“Uh, ‘Natural’ is my newest, but ‘Believer’ is my most listened to.”
I have that one on my playlist. You can scroll through and find it.”
“It’s fine. Your songs are like mine, so I don’t mind listening to this one.” I pick at the brown paint on my jeans. “Why did you ask me if I wanted a lift?”
“Does there have to be a specific reason?”
I nod, hoping he sees me through the corner of his eye.
“I want to get to know you better. There’s something about you that’s different from everyone else.”
“Thanks, I guess…” I respond drily.
“No.” Conner laughs. “It’s not bad. Trust me.”
“Then what is it?”
“That’s the thing, Noya. You tell me.” He slows down to a stop at the red light. Ahead is South Side Marketplace’s entrance. “What is it that makes you so different from anyone else I’ve known?”
I hate it when someone puts me on the spot. Funny, because no one has put me in a position like this, with nowhere to escape. I imagine myself in an interrogation room, a suspect of a crime I’m not aware of, and with every answer I give him, he deems it a lie.
I’m sweating, nearly in tears, and begging the police officer—Conner, in this case—to let me go. Or maybe my lawyer enters, considering this interrogation unlawful.
And my answer? My response to police officer Conner is the most basic answer in every interrogation ever conducted. “I don’t know,” I whisper.
“Well…I’m sure we will find out together, then.”
I sag my shoulders with relief when he lets go of the conversation. Perhaps he doesn’t persist because we ease into the parking lot.
Conner parks at the supermarket doors in the taxi bay. Something tells me he doesn’t care where he parks, nor does he care for the rules written in red that say he can’t park here.
I grab my bag as he reaches out, touching my arm. I flinch away, look him up and down, saying, “What?”
“Leave it here. I’ll pick you up when you finish. I’m not done talking to you.”
“Well, what if I’m done talking to you?” I grab my bag and shuffle out of the car. “Thank you for the ride, Conner.”
I close the door and power-walk inside before he can object.
6
WORK
I’m halfan hour into my shift when Olivia calls me away from the check-out station and to the back. Quinn called in sick, so now it’s my job to stock the shelves.
Five stacked trolleys are out the back and need restocking. I swallow the lump and then sigh at the two trolleys filled with bottled soft drinks.
Okay, Noya. Start by finishing the first trolley, then take it slow with the other three.
I push the first trolley from the back storage down the soft drink and bottled water aisle. As suspected, there’s a gaping hole where cola should be.
Taking hold of the first twenty-four-pack, a sharp pain rips through my right arm. A hiss of breath escapes through my clenched teeth, and with little fight, I rest the carton down beside my feet.
“Need help?” a soft voice says from behind. I whirl around to Conner as he smiles at me. “Hey.”
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
He raises a packet of salt and vinegar chips and an energy drink.