Harder Read Online Free Page A

out a towel, rather than deck clothes, and she scowls. I smile pleasantly at her and head out to the deck.
    “Just stay out of my way. Asshole,” she mutters as she pushes me aside and hurries past me.
    Oh dear.
     
    At lunch, I wait by the guard room until she comes out. She’s pulling a sleeveless, ragged hoodie on and doesn’t see me at first when she walks by. I walk beside her, waiting for her to look over and notice I’m here.
    When she does, she jumps.
    “Freak, whatchu sneaking up on people for?” She gives me a push and walks ahead without looking back.
    “Ally…”
    She turns, still moving backwards, hands in her hoodie pockets, and glares at me as she kicks backward to open the door behind her, then swings through it. I rush to keep up.
    She’s like a hurricane, constantly moving and changing and it’s all I can do to keep up.
    She stops in front of an old Chrysler LeBaron. It’s got a metallic blue custom paint job, a black top, and spinning rims. It leaves me speechless for a moment.
    “Jealous?” She runs a hand over the top. “She’s my baby. Put in a new tranny myself. All mine.”
    I guess her car is her soft spot.
    “Anyway, why are you following me?”
    “Lunch?”
    “With you?” She grins, then full on laughs. “Not on your life,” she says, slapping her knee.
    “I want to see how your car runs.”
    She stops and turns back to me, eyes narrowing. I’ve got her. “Like butter.” She runs her hand along the top. “She’s jumpy as hell and accelerates like you wouldn’t believe.”
    “Really? But it’s, well, old.”
    Her silver eyes flash in anger, unbelievably attractive to me in her transparency. I get lost in words, but I understand what she’s saying now perfectly.
    She walks to the passenger side and opens the door, then makes a sweeping motion for me to get in. Like a butler. I sit, amused, but when I reach for the door to close it she shakes her head. She closes it slowly, lifting it gently and setting it against the frame till it clicks closed with a light clanking sound.
    Then she walks back to her side and slides in. She buckles up and waits for me to do the same.
    “What’s wrong with the door?”
    She pulls sunglasses from the glove compartment and slides them on. “It’s broken.”
    “Why?”
    “You into cars? It brings out the chatterbox.”
    I shrug. “I’m interested in you.”
    She sighs and pulls out of the parking lot. “You’re barking up the wrong effing tree. I’m not into that.”
    “Into what?”
    She palms the wheel around a corner and turns the radio on. “Bose speakers, nice huh?”
    “Sure,” I reply.
    She pulls into a parking lot in front of a cheap Chinese dive. “You’ll like this place. It’s cheap.” She hops out and gets my door. I hate it, but I don’t want to break it further either.
    She shuts the door again, with equal care.
    “Why don’t you get it fixed?” I ask.
    She shrugs and jams her hands in her pockets again as she walks forward. “Haven’t had time. Happened right before I moved. Spent everything getting away. I’ll have to save a bit more. That’s why you have to watch your ass, I’m gunning for that promotion and you’d better stay out of the way.”
    “Getting away?”
    She freezes, tenses up, then relaxes and walks forward into the restaurant. “Don’t want to talk about it.”
    “But.”
    “Shut up.” She walks to the counter and orders. I do the same, and try to pay for both of us, but she waves me off and leads us to a table.
    The car door is stuck in my mind. She treasures that car. It’s special to her. Why leave something so valuable broken?
    She sits down with her lunch and pulls out a fork. I grab chopsticks and break them apart. I say a quick prayer over the food, a habit, and start to eat.
    I look up when I realize she isn’t eating. She’s staring at my chopsticks, and after a moment, she goes to get a pair of her own. She breaks them apart and they splinter unevenly. She tries