Every day for the next two weeks, Raleigh and Dawson went to work, talked about cars, and walked across the street to Jimmy’s Diner for lunch. Raleigh had never been excited about his job or eating greasy French fries, until Dawson.
Raleigh tightened the inner fender bolts on the Chevy pick-up that had come into the garage this morning and smiled to himself. His brain had stopped flip-flopping last night when Raleigh started to plan. He mentally rehearsed how the scene would play, imagining Dawson’s reaction when Raleigh let Dawson know how he felt. In Raleigh’s mind, Dawson’s lips turned up at the edges into a coy smile and Dawson would say, yes—he felt the same way and ask Raleigh if he wanted to be together.
“You have a nice smile,” Dawson said.
The wrench slipped from Raleigh’s grip
