Declan Gilroy is a fucking asshole.

I don’t know why it bothers me. Why I even give a shit what Tess thinks of me but hearing her say it makes me realize I do.

I give a shit.

I’ve never done a thing to her.

I’ve always been nice to her.

I always say hi when I see her around the neighborhood.

I don’t complain if I get stuck with her on my team when we play ball.

I held her while she cried, the day of her mom’s funeral.

I never told a soul what she told me that day.

That her mother killed herself.

That she’s the one who found her body.

So, yeah. I’ve never done anything to her, but she hates me all the same.

When she hears me, her shoulders go stiff and she turns around, a wary glare already planted on her face. “What are you doing here?”

I push a smirk onto my face to hide the fact that her tone sets my teeth on edge. “What’s it look like? I’m lurking.”

She doesn’t laugh at my joke. Probably because it’s not a joke. I am lurking. “How’d you get in here?”

“The door was unlocked.” It wasn’t unlocked and she seems to know it because she shoots her glare past me to let it land on the dark room behind me.

When she looks at me again, her jaw is tight and I expect her to call me a liar but she doesn’t. “My dad’s sleeping.” She says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Whatever you want, it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

That she’s noticed me come and go and that I have business with her dad surprises me. Despite the fact that I’m roughly the size of a compact car, I can usually go unnoticed when I want to.

Maybe you don’t want to go unnoticed. Maybe you wanted her to know you were coming around.

“I’m not here to see your dad.” Feeling a frown take root on my face, I push the thought away. “I’m here to see you.”

“Me?” Her head jerks back like she got a whiff of something bad.

“Yeah. You.” I stand up straight and jog my head to the side, aiming it toward the dark room behind me. “I need your help with something.”

“My help?” She looks at me like I just told her I’d been abducted by aliens. “You want my help.”

I feel the back of my neck go tight. “I didn’t say want, Tesla—I said need.”

“Yeah?” She tosses the rag in her hand at the workbench between us. “Well, I want you to go fuck yourself and I need you to get the hell out of my garage.”

Fuck me, I laugh. I can’t help it.

She’s too goddamned adorable when she’s all fired up. It reminds me of the time she got tossed from one of our league games when we were kids because she threw dirt at the ump and called him a myopic cocksucker for calling her out.

That was right before her mom died.

She’s so quick I almost missed it. Almost caught the crescent wrench she wings at my head right in the face. I jerk out of the wrench’s path but despite my best efforts it clips me in the chin on the fly-by. “What the fuck?” I bark at her around the sound of metal pining off the concrete floor behind me. I reach up to touch a fingertip to my chin and it comes away bloody.

“Next time you laugh at me,” she says, glaring at me, hands clenched into fists. “It’s going straight up your ass.”

“Alright—” I bob my head because I believe that she’d try. Wipe my bloody fingers on the leg of my jeans. “You gonna help me or not?”

She looks like she wants to spit on me and I get that feeling again. That helpless asshole feeling I always get when I’m around her. The feeling that convinces me that she can see right through me. Into me.

And she doesn’t like what she sees.

Like I’m not worth her time.

“There’s fifty bucks and a free kitten in it for you.” I make the offer because, while it’s obvious she pretty much hates my face, she’s curious.

“A kitten?” She scoffs at me. “Why not offer me free candy and ride in your panel van while you’re at it.”

I’m not sure I like what she’s implying. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Shit.” Instead of answering my question, she frowns up at me. “Sit down,” she says gesturing toward the bench behind her.

“What?” I say, frowning at her. “Why?”

“Because you’re bleeding pretty good.”

I take another swipe at my chin. More blood.

A lot of it.

She leans into the space between us and latches onto my wrist to pull me toward her. “Just do it.” She shoves me onto the bench before heading down the dark hallway before cutting to the right and into the bathroom.

I hear her rummage around in a cabinet and run the sink. She’s back a minute later with a first-aid kit and she’s washed her hands. Setting it on the bench beside me, she flips it open. “You need to learn how to duck faster,” she says, rummaging through the kit before coming up with a pre-packaged alcohol pad.

“I’m six foot six—I’m pretty sure ducking is what put me directly in your path of destruction.” I watch as she rips it open and pulls the pad free. “Maybe you need to learn to curb your temper, tiny.”

“Yeah?” She smirks at me. “Maybe I’ll learn to fly while I’m at it.” She moves closer, straddling my leg to lean into me. Now that I’m sitting, we’re the same height.

She has her mother’s eyes.

Beautiful.

Hazel. Just a tad more green than brown, framed with long, thick lashes.

When she places her hand on my face, tilting it toward her, my mouth goes dry. My heart starts pounding in my chest, a heavy, uneven rhythm that makes me wonder if I’m having a heart attack.

And then she swipes that alcohol pad across my chin.

“Motherfu—” I jerk back and the fingers she has wrapped around my chin dig in.

“Quit being a baby,” she says, taking another swipe before blotting it dry with some gauze. “It’s the super glue that’s really gonna hurt.”

“Superglue?” I can feel my eyes widen.

She shrugs. “Unless you have time to go to the ER for stitches?”

Stitches? Shit. How bad did she lay me open?

Before I can ask, she brandishes a tube of superglue at me, flicks off the cap and squirts a generous amount into the gash on my chin before pressing it closed.

She wasn’t kidding.

That shit hurts.

I have to take deep, even breaths to keep from crying like a little bitch.

Now she’s laughing at me. “You’re not going to cry are you?”

“No.” I feel my eyes narrow on her face. “What kind of pussy do you think I am?”

Her mouth tilts upward, one corner higher than the other. “A pretty big one.”

Before I can tell her to fuck off, she leans into me. Lips slightly pursed. Fingers still gripped around my jaw. Gaze lowered and settled somewhere near my mouth so she can blow on my chin.

Whatever I was about to say gets lost somewhere between my brain and my mouth. My heart goes apeshit again and I’m worried that the wrench to the head caused some sort of brain injury because I suddenly have to crank my hands into fists to keep myself from reaching up and wrapping them around the backs of her thighs to pull her onto my lap.

I want to kiss her.

And if she doesn’t get away from me—fast—that’s exactly what I’m going to do.