Frigid Flora

three - slashed tires

Chapter Three

The sky above had a blanket of slate grey draped across it. It was the type of sky that made everything seem much darker, the remnants of sunlight barely existent. It would rain soon, that I was certain of. Little did I know that a storm wasn't the only brewing mess that had rolled into town that evening.

"You," I said, taking an immediate step back once I had collected myself. I tripped over an uneven paving stone, nearly toppling backwards as I tried to put some distance between the arrogant boy and myself. "Why are you here?"

Parker opened his mouth, the glint that sparkled in his hazel eyes telling me to prepare myself for a witty comeback of some sort. However, his original response never came. His easy going nature evaporated as he took in my rather frazzled looking appearance and watery gaze that was undoubtedly rimmed with red. "Have you been crying?"

"No." I denied brusquely. I hated people seeing me cry, even my family. This was worse. If I had to write a list of the top ten people I'd least like seeing me in a vulnerable state such as this, Parker Heywood would be very high up.

"But you're upset." He furrowed his eyebrows looking somewhat uncomfortable and if I wasn't mistaken, maybe even a little panicked. If I were simply looking in on this conversation, not partaking in it, I might have laughed at the fact Parker was for once completely out of his depth and unsure of what to do. Maybe he didn't like tears either.

"My eyes may have been leaking but that's only because I was cutting onions for the homeless. I was making uh- making them soup. Onion soup." I began walking toward my car, wanting nothing more than to leave before another awkward conversation ensued. Who was I kidding, it already had.

"How nice of you." He was going along with it but I knew he wasn't buying it.

"I know," I stalked ahead of him a little bit in order to discreetly wipe at my eyes as he tried to tag along beside me. "Those unfortunate souls don't know the art of gourmet cooking."

Parker lingered like a bad smell outside my car as I clambered inside.

"Wait," He paused, staring at something I couldn't see. I didn't care. I revved the engine, trying to drive off so that I could express my feelings in peace. The vehicle didn't move.

"I said wait," Parker said again in a slightly sharper tone, disappearing as he crouched down by my car. Curiosity got the better of me and I peered outside my open window to watch him examining my tires. "They've been slashed."

"What?" I scowled, getting back out in order to stand by his side.

"Your tires," He replied. "They've all been slashed."

"What do you mean?" It was a dumb question but his words just weren't really sinking in. Oakton was a fairly small town and around these parts, everyone was relatively friendly. Crime rate was miniscule and the chances of someone purposefully slashing your tires just out of the badness of their heart was next to none.

"Your. Tires. Have. Been. Slashed." He pronounced every word deliberately clear and I glared at him before inspecting them myself. Unfortunately he wasn't wrong. Quite honestly, I didn't know how my day could get any worse.

"Well," I paused. "This complicates things."

"I could give you a lift to wherever you're heading?"

I spun around on my heel to face him and watched as he smirked at me, lifting up one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. It seemed convenient. Too convenient. Maybe even planned. "You did this, didn't you?"