An icy breeze made him look up from his book. The door to the convenience store had been opened and in walked the three people he wanted to see the least. The wide smirks on their faces and quick glances at each other told him that they were up to no good.
Dylan sighed. He was working the counter all by himself tonight. Larry, the proprietor, wouldn’t be in until ten – three hours away.
The three morons disappeared down the snack aisle, which only increased Dylan’s unease. He didn’t like them leaving his sight. He strained to at least hear what they were up to, but he couldn’t make out anything over the oldies radio station Larry insisted on playing in the store.
He tried to remain calm and focused on his book again but soon found he was only staring at the page rather than reading it. Not that it mattered. He had completed all his reading for school, had sent out his college applications, and taken his SATs. All he needed to do now was wait. Wait for an acceptance letter, wait to turn eighteen, wait to get the hell out of this miserable town, wait to finally start his life.
So, to pass the time, he was reading. He read anything he could get his hands on: thrillers, comedies, comic books but also tons of books on history and criminal justice. Thick tomes like the one before him. They weren’t exactly light reading material, but he wanted to be prepared for college. If he wanted to go to law school, he had to know this stuff.
Better to get a head start.
And reading was better than being bored at work. He had read four books in the past two weeks alone. It felt like he was already halfway through the local library. But he didn’t have much else to do at this point.
A loud buzzing noise from the back of the store made him jump.
The slush machines.
Fletcher Barnes and his entourage had found something to do, it seemed. Dylan’s heart raced, and a single bead of sweat was running down his back. He kept staring at the aisle they had disappeared into and listening intently for more sounds coming from the back.
That’s probably how he had missed the customer who had just entered the store, only noticing her when she waved a dainty hand in front of his face.
“Hello.”
Startled, he looked at her. And blinked. The person standing in front of him looked like a brunette Madonna – only somehow even more flawless. Her brown curls were long and lush, framing her heart-shaped face. The glow of her porcelain skin was rivaled by that of her light gray eyes, her nose was perfectly straight, and the beauty spot on her chin was the only thing that broke up her face’s symmetry.
Her black leather outfit was snug around her petite frame yet seemed like a poor choice of clothing to keep warm in New Hampshire in January. But she didn’t seem to be cold.
Her demeanor exuded confidence despite her only being maybe five foot four. If Dylan had seen her walking down the street, he never would have dared talk to her. But as it was, this goddess-like creature had somehow stopped at a gas station in the middle of nowhere during his shift.
Her crimson painted lips spread into a grin. “Can I get fifteen bucks on pump one, please?” She looked at him like he was slow, pointing at the store window with her thumb.
Dylan realized his mouth was hanging open. He closed it and rang her up in a hurry. As she slid three five-dollar bills across the counter, he noticed she was wearing fingerless black leather gloves and couldn’t help but wonder how her fingers weren’t freezing off. But then again, she had come by car.
As he was fumbling with the register, he glanced out to the pumps. A sleek and shiny sports car – the kind nobody drove around here – was parked under the dim lights of the gas station roof. It was a foreign make. An Audi maybe? He couldn’t get a good look at it, but even through the hazy windows and in the dark of the early night, it was obvious that vehicle was fast.
Who was this girl? And what was she doing here of all places?
She hadn’t come alone though. A guy in the driver’s side of the car was idly looking out the window.
Figures. A girl like that can’t be single. Not that he would have stood a chance if she had been.
He turned back to his customer and handed her the receipt. “Are you just passing through?” he asked sheepishly, curious to find out how she had ended up here.
She was watching him closely, her eyes boring into his longer than appropriate. It seemed like she was staring into his soul, extracting his deepest darkest secrets. It made Dylan uncomfortable. He had to look away.
“Not sure yet. We might stay a while.”
As he opened his mouth to say something else to keep her from leaving, Amy Barnes – Fletcher’s twin sister – started giggling. She kept her distance, standing between the counter and the snack aisle, one hand fake-coyly pressed on her mouth, her blond perm shaking with her suppressed laughter. Ricky Halston appeared next to her. He held out a half empty cup of blue slush that was dripping at the bottom, leaving a trail of thick blue liquid on the beige tiled floor.
“Sorry, man.” Only he didn’t sound sorry at all. In fact, he seemed to be trying hard not to laugh. “Something’s wrong with the machine. There’s blue stuff everywhe—”
He couldn’t even finish the sentence. Bursting out laughing, he doubled over behind Amy into the aisle. Amy couldn’t hold it together anymore either and leaned onto Ricky.
A cold wave of dread ran from Dylan’s head to his toes. The kind of dread when the joke cracking everybody up was on you.
He tried to remain aloof, telling himself that these two looked ridiculous as they laughed like little children would at a fart, but he couldn’t entirely convince himself.
Amy’s twin casually sauntered out behind them, grabbing a packet of peanuts from the shelf as he went. Walking up to the counter, he noticed the girl, who was still standing there, watching the spectacle. For a split second, his eyes widened and his brows rose half an inch. Then he pulled himself together and winked at her with a half smile. But she gave him an unfazed look.
“You might want to check those machines, Harper. I think there’s something stuck in the tap.” He grinned that stupid grin of his. The one that said he knew he was untouchable.
Dylan wanted to sock the guy so badly. But that wouldn’t end well for him. He was outnumbered. And even if he hadn’t been, he never would have stood a chance in a fight against Fletcher Barnes. Dylan had a few scars to prove it.
Although they were the same age, they might as well have belonged to two completely different species: Fletcher was broad-shouldered, with arms the size of his sister’s thighs, with blond hair and cheekbones that could cut glass whereas Dylan was overweight, his skin was breaking out, and he wore Coke-bottle-thick glasses.
So he swallowed his anger and pretended it didn’t bother him at all.
“Just the nuts?” He pointed at the packet in Fletcher’s hand.
Fletcher tossed the packet on the counter and shrugged. “Sure.”
“A dollar twenty.”
He pulled out some change from his jeans pocket and counted out one dollar. “Sorry, that’s all I got. But Larry sure won’t mind.” He winked. And before Dylan could say another word to stop him, he turned on his heel and walked away. “Let’s go.”
His entourage followed like the good little minions they were. As the door slowly shut behind them, another icy breeze made its way into the store. Dylan shivered from the cold, but on the inside, he was fuming.
Disgruntled, he made his way to the back to look at the disaster Fletcher and his friends had caused. It was even worse than he’d expected. The light brown rug in front of the machines had turned blue and made squishing noises when he stepped on it. The sugary liquid was oozing out onto the beige tile floor staining the grout…
This is never going to come off.
He groaned. In moments like these, he wished he were already a successful lawyer. He would make sure justice was served and people like Fletcher and his sycophants were put behind bars where they belonged. What gave them the right to do this? And why did they keep getting away with it? Consequences seemed to be of no concern for the rich.
Dylan shook his head in disgust and grabbed the mop and bucket from the back office.
“Do you need help with that?”
Confused, he looked up in the direction of the voice. The black leather girl was still there, hovering in the aisle, brow furrowed, and pointing at the soaked rug.
For a second Dylan was dumbfounded. He hadn’t expected her to stick around. She had already paid. And besides, wasn’t she with someone?
“Uh, will your boyfriend not mind?” He was still clutching the mop, his eyes darting in the direction of the front windows and back. He couldn’t see the pumps from there.
She shrugged. “My husband can wait for a bit. We’re not in a rush. And you look like you could use a hand.”
Husband? His brows raised. She looked too cool to be married.
She flashed a dazzling smile at him. Her teeth were as perfect as the rest of her seemed to be. After way too long he realized he was staring at her. He blushed and looked away. Embarrassing… Come on, get it together!
He directed his gaze at the slushed-up tiles instead. Why would a girl – no, a married woman – who looked like a movie star want to help him clean up this mess? Was she serious or was she making fun of him?
He looked her up and down, trying to gauge if he could trust her.
“It’s okay,” she said with a soft smile. And then, as if she could read his mind, she added, “You can trust me. I mean it. I just want to help you.” Slowly she walked up to him, reaching for the old mop he was still gripping with both hands.
He swallowed. She was standing so close to him that he could smell her perfume. Some flowery scent. Rose? His gaze met hers again. Her light gray eyes were honest and inviting.
Ah, what the hell. He would probably never see her again anyway. Might as well take her up on her offer. Plus, he was most likely never going to get another chance at hanging out with a girl as breathtaking as her. The corners of his mouth twitched, and he surrendered the mop.
He hurried into the back room for more cleaning supplies. As he stepped back into the store, she had already rolled up the rug and was wiping the floor.
“It’s probably best if you wring that out outside and throw it in the washing machine,” she instructed with a frown.
Dylan nodded. He didn’t know what to say. He so rarely had company other than his mom, and the situation felt awkward. After all, he didn’t know this person.
“I’m Marie-Louise, by the way. But everyone calls me Marie. What’s your name?” With a splash, she dunked the mop deep into the bucket of water and stirred it.
“Uh, Dylan.”
“Nice to meet you, Dylan.” She held out her leather-gloved right hand, and he shook it. Her fingers really did feel frozen. Her touch was so cold it sent a shiver through his body. Did that fancy car of hers not have a heating system?
“Likewise,” he murmured. He moved to the counter for the slush machines and started cleaning up the surface which was also covered in blue lumpy liquid. “So, what brings you here?” he asked after a beat. He was dying to know.
“Oh, uh…” She hesitated. “I’m on a break from college, and we’re just driving through the country, you know… No real destination in mind, just going where the road takes us.”
That sounded amazing. Dylan could hardly imagine the immeasurable amount of freedom these two had to be feeling. His heart yearned for it. A trip like that was something he wanted to take once he earned enough money as a lawyer. Then he could maybe also afford to take his mom somewhere as a treat. Maybe even overseas. That would be nice…
“That sounds like fun.”
“Yeah. But we might stay here for a while.”
“Why?” Dylan asked incredulously.
Berlin was a small town in New Hampshire, surrounded by nothing but forest and mountains. Temperatures were below freezing every day this time of year, and everything was covered in a thick layer of snow and ice. They got fresh snow almost every day. Plus, they were too far off the grid for tourism. Nobody was coming here to visit.
In fact, since the sneakers factory had closed a few years back, people were moving away in droves. The population had dwindled to a little over 12,000. So why anybody would want to stay there was beyond him.
She shrugged and focused on scrubbing the grout with her mop. “No reason. Seems like an interesting place.” The way she grimaced at those words told Dylan that she wasn’t going to elaborate.
“How old are you, Dylan?” she asked before he could say anything else.
“Seventeen.”
Her eyes darted to his face. “Oh. Okay. When do you turn eighteen?”
That was an odd question to ask someone you just met – at least in Dylan’s opinion. “In a little over two months.”
“Hm.” She put her attention on the grout again. “So, you’re still in school?”
“Yup. High school senior.”
“I see.”
He wondered why she bothered talking to him and asking him all these questions. Just to make small talk? Or had Fletcher put her up to it to see if Dylan would make a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl? Dylan’s heart sank. Fletcher would tease him about this endlessly…
No, she didn’t even know Fletcher. She had shown him the cold shoulder earlier. Stop being so paranoid, Dylan!
“How old are you?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation away from himself.
“Twenty” came the quick-fire response.
He had moved on to cleaning the wenge wood cabinet below the counter, the doors of which were lined with blue streaks like veins, and the next question shot out of his mouth before he could stop it: “And you’re married?”
“Yes.” She grinned. Apparently, she hadn’t taken it personally. “When you meet the right person, why not make it official?” Her grin deepened as if she were reacting to some private joke.
“Guess so…” Not that he would know. He had never really been in love. Unless you counted the misplaced crush he had had on Amy Barnes in first grade, back before she had turned into her brother’s shadow, and the feelings he’d had for his classmate Leonard in fifth grade. But he didn’t like to think about that.
“All done,” Marie exclaimed. And she was right. The floor no longer looked like a whole village of smurfs had been trampled to death on it. She put the mop in the bucket and leaned it against the wall.
“Thank you. I appreciate your help.” He smiled and dumped his sponge into the bucket as well. The water had turned distinctly blue.
“You’re welcome. It was really no problem at all.”
Neither of them seemed to know what else to say, so they stood there in awkward silence for a moment, The Everly Brothers playing over the scratchy speakers in the background.
“Do you work here every day?” she finally asked.
“Monday through Thursday evenings. Saturday and Sunday during the day,” he replied automatically. He had taken on the extra shifts recently to make as much money as possible before college.
Her face fell. “That’s a packed schedule. Do your friends not mind that you’re so busy all the time?”
Dylan almost scoffed but stopped himself. He didn’t want to look like a loser with no friends – even though that was exactly what he was.
He scratched the back of his head, avoiding her gaze, stalling.
“You don’t have any friends?” Her voice had taken on a soft tone.
Great. Now she felt sorry for him. He didn’t need her pity. “I…” He didn’t know what to say. He let his mouth hang open and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He suddenly didn’t know what to do with them.
“Well, maybe you just haven’t found the right crowd yet. But they’re out there. I’m sure. You’ll find a place to belong.”
He was surprised at the lack of condescension in her voice. When he finally mustered up the courage to look at her again, she was smiling confidently.
He didn’t know how to respond to that. Of course she was right. Once he got to college things were going to change for him. Once he got out of this town… But that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
Embarrassed, he closed his mouth and gave her a tight-lipped noncommittal smile.
“Okay. Then I’ll know where to find you.” She winked and turned to leave.
Dylan stood there, flabbergasted. Did that mean she wanted to hang out with him again?
Before he had pulled himself together, he heard the door open, and Marie shouted, “See you around!”
* * *
Dylan kept the doorknob tightly turned and slowly released it only once the front door was back in its frame. When he was safely inside the warm cocoon of his house, he took his beanie and gloves off. The walk home had been freezing. Not a soul had been out on the road in the dark, and the blanket of snow and ice had turned the world eerily quiet.
He shivered with the remnants of cold still clinging to his body. His nose was running from the sudden change in temperature, but he was too scared to even sniff too loudly because he didn’t want to wake his mom, who usually fell asleep on the couch when he wasn’t there to keep her company. And she needed her rest. She worked long hours at the local grocery store – stocking shelves, working the register, dealing with customers – and all that while making nothing more than minimum wage.
Dylan felt bad about that. After all, if it hadn’t been for him, his mom would probably still be living in Boston. Maybe she’d even be married and have a few kids. Kids that weren’t him.
Still breathing heavily from the strain of bending over and taking his boots off, he tiptoed a few steps to the living room. The television was softly playing commercials in the background. The single shaded lamp behind the couch cast a beam of warm light into the hallway. As he peeked into the room, he saw his mom stretched out on the couch, covered in the threadbare quilt her aunt Elsie had bought on a trip to Canada twenty-five years ago.
Her disheveled brown hair – the same shade as Dylan’s – was spread out like seaweed on the sofa cushion beneath her head. Her deep breaths told Dylan that she was fast asleep. He suppressed a chuckle. Susan always insisted that she never fell asleep in front of the TV, but he found her like this almost every night when he came home from work.
He had told her countless times to go to bed when she felt tired, but she insisted on waiting up for him. It was a nice sentiment even if it was completely unnecessary. Nothing was ever going to happen to him in this boring backwater town.
With a sigh, he walked over to the TV set and turned it off. It was probably the most modern thing in the house – one of the only things his mom had replaced after she had inherited the house from Elsie almost eighteen years ago.
As the noise from the small screen stopped, Susan started to stir. She blinked a few times, disoriented. When her gaze landed on Dylan, a small smile spread across her lips.
“Hey, you’re home.” Her voice sounded like sandpaper. She had obviously been sleeping for a while.
“Yeah. Five past ten. As always. Mom, go to bed. The couch must be really uncomfortable.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her face. With a groan, she
