Josh snorts, climbing the stairs to get in his face. “No, Kevin, you are. In fact, I have no idea how you pulled her over in the first place. You can’t do a damn thing over here, and you know it. Get lost.”
The cop—I mean campus cop—seems to be well acquainted with Josh. “Have some respect, Mr. Gallub. I can make your life hell.” The guy swaps spots with Josh and steps off the bus. He turns on the sidewalk and points up at me. “Both of you.”
“What, are you going to ticket me to death?”
“I can ticket her, too!” He points at me, seeming too pissed off.
“Josh, I can’t afford tickets and points on my license.”
He laughs. “It’s not a real ticket. He’s not a real cop. The worst he can do is charge you $35 and throw his keys at you.”
“Really?” I blink, stunned by this turn of events. “Then why’d he pull me over?”
“Why’d you stop?” Josh has an incredulous smile on his face.
“I didn’t.” I search the sidewalk for Kevin and frown watching him walk back to a bike at the back corner of the bus. I didn’t see it before. “You’re on a bike?”
Josh tries not to laugh while speaking from lips that really want to twist into a full-wattage smile. “You got tricked, Kerry. He was probably asking for your license so he could stalk you.”
“I don’t do that!” Kevin yells from the back of the bus as he mounts his bicycle. He pulls away, jabbing his finger at Josh while spewing threats.
I blink, stunned, and when I look up to meet Josh's eyes, all the emotion I've been holding back—all the hurt, betrayal, and rejection—surfaces in a flash flood. My lower lip begins to wobble, and my eyes fill with tears.
Josh's smug smile drops to the floor. His hands fly up as he tries to back down the stairs before I start bawling. “No way. I just happened to be here. Don’t thank me!” He’s at the bottom of the stairwell, about to walk away when I start sobbing. And it’s the worst kind. I sound like I’m being choked, and the word 'bub' repeats over and over as I try to stop the sobs.
“Don’t call me, Bub, babe.” Josh sucks in a deep breath and climbs back up the stairs.
Twin rivers of tears stain my face even though I keep wiping them away. I can’t stop the convulsive wails escaping my chest. I feel like I've been wrenched in two. I rest my head on the steering wheel and hide my face.
Josh puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’m going to regret this, but move over. I’m driving.”
I manage to slide my sobbing body into a seat near the front. The raccoon is still pissed at me for body slamming his ass into the dashboard and lets me know it by snarling at me around the corner of his seat. It makes me cry more. My brain automatically takes the critter’s hissy fit as rejection. Even animals hate me. I’m the anti-Snow White. I start sobbing again.
Josh jerks the bus into motion and maneuvers it down a side street, where he parks, cuts the engine and walks back to me. Standing in the aisle, he looks down at me. “So, how was your day?”
I don’t respond. I have my face in my hands, and my head is forward, hidden. Shame looks bad on me. I feel sick inside.
Josh slides into the seat next to me and throws his arm around my shoulder. “Kerry, there are two rules in life. The first is no one can tear you down without your permission. The second is the most important.” When he doesn’t offer it right away, I turn to peek at him through my hair.
“What’s the other?”
“When you get kicked in the balls, you gotta kick back. You’re no one's bitch, and you never will be. You’re not the kind of girl that goes down after one shot. I wish you were.” He smirks at his innuendo.
“Assface.”
“There’s my girl.” Josh tips his head to the side, trying to catch my eye. When he does, I'm surprised to see the concern on his face. This guy only cares about himself. Why, then, did he leave his convertible parked on the side of a busy road to sit on a stinky bus with me and a rabid raccoon?
“Thanks.” I manage to steady my breathing, but the stream of tears doesn't stop. “I’m sorry.” I swat at my eyes, feeling like an idiot. I hate crying in front of people.
Josh reaches into his pocket and fishes out a handkerchief. “Here.”
I glance at it and sit up a little straighter. “Really? You carry a handkerchief?”
“Think about it—I come across a crying woman with battered self-esteem desperately needing someone strong and handsome to cling to. I offer my hanky, and things get freaky. Angry sex is amazing.” He smiles at me, and I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
I dab my eyes with the clean, white fabric, but the tears keep streaming. Josh shifts his weight and pulls my head against his shoulder. “Take a moment. I’ll beat the world away for you.”
I nestle my head into the spot between his shoulder and his neck, dabbing my tears before they roll down my cheeks. I stare at the names written on the back of the seat in front of me wondering if their lives suck as badly as mine does.