Crash Into Your Heart

Chapter 3//Cocky much?

After an hour and a half of stalking shelves, I heaved a breath and tied my hair up from my sweaty neck. Thank God there's A/C, I thought to myself. After dusting off my hands, I peeked at the clock and saw that it was almost 10:30. I checked the storage room, but there were no more of the smaller car parts to put away.
I pushed open the shop door and stepped outside, a gust of summer heat welcoming me. I glanced over at the open garage doors and saw a navy sedan parked inside, with two legs sticking out from under it.
"Hey!", I called, "I finished stalking the shelves. Anything else I can do to help?" The cute guy slide out from underneath the car and, to put it mildly, my eyes just about popped out of my head.
He was shirtless, showing off his tanned chest, which was shining with sweat. Holy tamale, I thought. I knew I was staring, but I couldn't look away. His toned abs and broad shoulders were enough to give me a heart attack. Oh my gosh, he's like a fresh out of the oven biscuit. I could just eat him up with a side of gravy. I felt my face heat up, and could only imagine how red it was, as I registered the thoughts running through my head.
"Cutie," he said in a calm voice, snapping me out of my daze, "your blushing." A small smirk crossed his face as his eyes crinkled in amusement. I felt myself reddening even more. "I-uh-I didn't mean to-er, stare," I looked down at my feet, even more embarrassed then before. His smirk softened a little, then returned full force. "That's alright, cutie. I even make guys blush," he said with a wink. Is this guy serious? I thought. No. No one's that cocky. "But you know," he added with a clear of his throat, "you should consider yourself lucky. I mean who wouldn't want this view?" Boy was I wrong about no one being that cocky.
"I can think of one. Me. Put your shirt on pretty boy." He gave me a pouty face and then untucked his t-shirt from his shorts, pulling it over his head.
I would never admit it to him, but I did miss the view.

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"So," he asked me, "how have you lived this long and not ever had a pickle pop?"
"Well," I replied, shifting my position on the grass where we sat in front of the blue house, "my mom hates pickles. Actually, she despises them," I added with a chuckle, thinking of the faces my mom pulls when someone so much as mentions pickles.
"Wow," he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment, "isn't it child cruelty to deprive your kids of necessities?"
"I'm pretty sure the law doesn't consider pickle pops necessary for life." He let out a chuckle at that, and a comfortable silence fell over the conversation.
"You know," I said after a while, "you've never told me your name." I looked over at him to see a "deep in thought" look on his face as he said, "You know cutie, I believe your right. I never have told you." He had a teasing look on his face as he said, "Bet you'd never guess." A competitive look crossed my face as I straightened my back and said, "Try me."
"Alright", he said with a smirk, "guess."
"Woah, woah, woah, hang on a second there. You can't just throw me into the deep end. You gotta give me a hint."
"Ok", he said nodding his head in approval, "It starts with C."
This'll be a piece of cake, I thought to myself. I put my game face on, and spewed out all of the names I could think of that start with C.
"Carl"
"Nope."
"Cal"
"Notta."
"Calvin?"
"Nu-uh."
"Casey"
"No."
"Caden"
"Wow, your really bad at this aren't you?"
"Shut up."
"That doesn't start with C cutie."
I shot him a glare, only making him laugh more to my annoyance.
"Could you give me any other hints. Like is there anybody famous with the same name or something?"
"Well," he said, scratching his head in thought, "there is this one guy who has the same name. Apparently a lot of girl's like him"-he eye rolled-"I think he's famous on Vines or something."
"Wait- no way. You can't mean Cameron Dallas?"
"Sadly I do." The look of disgust on his face made me burst out in laughter.
"There are worse names," he said defensively.
"I'm not laughing at your name, dork. Just your reaction to Cameron Dallas." I bursted into a fit of giggles, that sounded embarrassingly girly to me.

     "Wrench."
I spotted it and handed it to him. "So why is it I have to stay until 7 again?"
"Well," he grunted in reply, "I need someone to hand me tools, and since grandad isn't gonna be home until 11 tonight, I figured you're just the gal to do it." He looked over at me with a quick wink and then returned to fixing the car.
"Screw."
I looked around, but I couldn't find it. I stood up from my crisscross applesauce position and searched around where I had been sitting. There you are, I thought when I found it under a piece of paper.
"Now."
"You know if you say please maybe I'd be able to hand it to you faster," I said, trying to cover up that I'd just almost lost the screw.
"Yeah," he said cocking his head at a adorable angle, "and if you'd say please, maybe I'd be able to give you a piece of this-"he motioned a hand at his body-"faster". My face flamed red, as I chocked on my saliva. His white teeth flashed as he laughed at the look on my face. He put his hand out for me to hand him the screw. I plopped it in his hand and said, "Cocky much?", before spinning on my heel and walking away. I rounded the corner of the garage, my mind dealing with the embarrassment, when I heard Cameron say loudly, "You know it baby."
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