"I don'thavea ten."
With annoying optimism, he said, "Hey, I can break a hundred."
I sighed. Maybehecould, butIcouldn’t. In fact, if I searched every inch of my car, Imightfind two bucks in spare change. But there was no way I'd be sharingthatsad fact with a stranger, so all I said was, "I’m not a betting person."
"Good thing for you," he said. "I would've cleaned you out."
I wanted to roll my eyes. Was he joking? I had no idea. But Ididknow that the odds of Joel returning any time soon weren't looking nearly as good as the guy seemed to think.
As I trudged along beside him, I couldn't help but wonder why he was being so nice to me. Was it because he knew Joel? Like maybe they were friends or something? Or maybe, he was just a decent guy.
Of course, there was always the chance that he'd toss me into my own trunk and steal the car with me inside it. But somehow, I didn't think so, so I tried to be thankful, even if I was too depressed to be decent company.
As we headed toward my car, I considered all of the things that Ididn'tget to say. For one thing, I'd been meaning to tell Joel that I still had his money – over fifty-three thousand dollars in cash.
He'd left it, stashed up in my guest house. I'd found it only hours after he left. And yet, I hadn't touched a single one of those dollars, not even tonight, when I'd been facing a three-hour drive on a nearly empty tank.
I also had Joel's paintings, a bunch of his clothes, and a slew of memories that broke my heart. Did he know that I still loved him? And if so, did he even care?
The stranger's voice interrupted my thoughts. "If it makes you feel any better, the guy's been a total asshole since he got back."
"Joel?" I stopped in my tracks. "He has?"
"Yeah. And I’m guessing you're the reason."
"What makes you say that?"
"Not hard to figure out," the guy said. "The way he peeled out of here? He was pissed."
"So?"
"So you don't getthatangry over some girl you don't care about."
"Oh." I started walking again. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't be so sure."
In spite of my lackluster response, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that the guy's words had sparked an embarrassing leap of hope in my heart.DidJoel still care? It would be nice to think so.
And yet, now that I'd passed the crying phase, a different emotion was creeping up with a vengeance. That emotion was anger.Myanger. He'd treated me like garbage. He'd stood aside, saying nothing, as those two other girls ridiculed me right to my face.
And then, he'd left me standing there, alone, in a dimly lit parking lot. True, maybe I'd brought most of this on myself, but if Joel cared at all, he sure had a funny way of showing it.
I was still mulling all of this over when we finally reached my car. Around us, the parking lot was now almost completely empty and utterly dark. Aside from a big grey van, parked tight against the driver's side of my car, there wasn't a single vehicle in sight.
I gave the van a closer look. It had two flat tires and a bunch of flyers tucked underneath the front windshield wipers. Obviously, the van had been there a while, and wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.
Pushing aside the distraction, I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my keys. And then, I turned to the stranger and said, "Thanks."
"You're welcome." He grinned. "And you owe me."
I wasn't following. "What?"
"The bet."
"But we didn't bet," I pointed out. "And besides, I still wouldn't owe you. It's not like he came back or anything."
He was still grinning. "You sure about that?"
I listened. Somewhere in the distance, I heard the squeal of tires, like a speed-demon driver had taken a corner way too fast. I froze, trying to listen more closely. Soon, I heard it again.
But it couldn’t be Joel.
Could it?
