She grasped it from my fingers, her gaze sweeping past my fancy coffee machine on the counter, but keeping her lips sealed. “Thanks a bunch.”

I followed her out the door to her used red Dodge Dakota truck. The fact that this girl drove this kind of car made me grin. “Nice ride.”

“Thanks. It was my dad’s and after he . . .” she paused, her eyes clouding over before quickly clearing. “Died, I took it over. Saves me a car payment. And walking everywhere.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your dad.” I said stepping into the truck. “Um, how long ago?”

“About three years ago now,” she said, gripping the steering wheel.

I couldn’t help thinking that I wished it had been my dad and not hers—seemed like she really missed her father, probably even had a decent relationship with him. Didn’t seem fair. That what was so shitty about life. It made no fucking sense.

Then I felt guilty even wishing my dad dead. More so, I just wished him gone.

“Sounds like you guys were close,” I said, wondering what the hell that even felt like.

“Very.” She sighed. “He was a photographer, too. I also inherited his Hasselblad 500C/M, which is what I’m going to use to shoot this project.”

She lifted up this cool vintage-looking black camera from her tote bag on the seat between us that was shaped like a square and had a turn handle I presumed was for advancing to the next picture.

“My father taught me everything I know,” she said with what sounded liked awe in her voice. “You should have seen some of his photo spreads. Damn, he was good.”

“That’s really cool . . . and special,” I said, as she put the car in drive and pulled out of the lot. “It also helps explain some of your tattoos.”

She nodded. “Got any ink on you, Square?”

“Nah.” I stared down at her forearm that had a roll of film inked on it and I got lost looking at her smooth flesh in between all the colorful artwork.

When she lifted her arm to turn the wheel and head toward the freeway, I snapped out of it. “How does your dad’s camera compare to modern digital cameras?”

“In my opinion?” she said, giving me a sidelong glance. “There’s no comparison. It uses one-twenty film which trumps thirty-five millimeter and the image quality is sweet.”

She went radio silent after that, lost in her own thoughts—maybe about her father or about how she would shoot the bridges. I knew one thing for certain—a girl who was that passionate about vintage camera equipment was sexy as hell.

I thought it would feel more awkward being around her, not only after that night at the bar, but also for us to be alone on the road. But it didn’t. I’d known her for a decent amount of time now and even though Bennett and pretty much every other guy who knew me initially thought that I wanted to get in her pants, I was able to quickly bat that idea down.

I actually liked having her as a friend because she was refreshingly different. The families that ran in my parents’ circle were wealthy and the girls were mostly privileged and snobby. It was even more laughable that they’d want to be wild in the bedroom. They wouldn’t dream of tarnishing their image.

I went to TSU, not only because of its engineering program, but also because I wanted to have a normal college experience in every way possible.

And Jess was normal. Outside of her tattoos and colorful hair. Maybe normal wasn’t exactly the word. She was real. A real girl, with feelings and a strong voice and kick-ass ideas. I was too chickenshit to get close to a girl like that romantically, so I figured she was the coolest girl around to befriend.

“Thanks for coming, by the way,” Jessie said. “You didn’t have to give up your Saturday for me.”

“No problem,” I said. “The idea of getting away for a whole day actually sounded great.”

“Got lots of pressures or something, Square?” she asked, the corner of her lip turning up. “What kind of stressors do you have in your life?”

I looked over at her because I thought she was messing with me again. But she seemed genuinely interested.

God, wouldn’t it be nice just once to unload all of my dark thoughts on someone. She might fling me out of the fucking car if she knew exactly what I’d fantasied about doing to her.

“Just the usual,” I said. “School and work.” My internship was definitely challenging and I didn’t want to fuck it up, so I had to keep up with my classes and schoolwork, and get my head out of my ass.

“What made you decide on engineering?” she asked. “Is that what your dad does?”

Shit, she didn’t know me at all. She thought I was just some rich kid following in his daddy’s footsteps.

“Hell no.” The words rushed form my lips before I could stop them and her eyebrows shot up. I rarely even spoke of my family, outside of my brother’s football schedule. I’d be missing his game today but that was fine by me. Sitting in the stands next to my parents and Luke’s new girlfriend, Anna, pretending to be a close family was actually a painful experience. Luke was like a God on the field, which only fed his already inflated ego, so my dad would have plenty to talk to Anna about.

“My dad is a high-powered advertising executive,” I said through clenched teeth. It was difficult for me to talk about him without seething. “Now my brother, Luke? He’s already got an entry-level job lined up at my father’s firm.”