I leant against the workshop wall as Nate's head disappeared under the hood of my car, my eyes firmly fixed on his tanned lower back, which was exposed now that his tshirt had ridden up.

I'd known something was off the moment I'd laid eyes on that tip he'd left me. Nobody left a hundred dollar tip for a three dollar bill, not even Bill Gates himself, and yet for some reason beyond my own comprehension, I ignored my own instincts and the flashing warning signs going off in my head and had vowed to give him a chance.

Hell, I deserved to be scammed.

"I'd never have pegged you as a cheerleader," Nate said when he finally straightened up, a wrench still in his hand as his eyes skimmed over my outfit with distaste.

Grease residue had made its way onto his exposed, tanned arms, making his muscles glimmer under the light as though he were in some kind of photo shoot.

"Yeah, well, I'm full of surprises," I said, shifting my eyes to the other vehicles in the auto shop. For some reason, staring at Nate for too long made me feel light-headed.

"I'm starting to see that," Nate smirked in response. "Though I'm still trying to figure out why. You don't strike me as the cheerleader type."

I narrowed my eyes at that, wondering how he could have the audacity to insult me after his criminal counterpart had tried to rip me off.

"It looks good on a college application," I said shortly, forcing myself to meet his cool gaze. He was already watching me with a thick eyebrow raised, as though trying to figure me out.

"I'm not surprised this hunk of junk broke down," Nate said after a brief moment of silence, throwing his wrench into his tool box before grabbing an old piece of cloth to wipe his hands with. "What'd you do, buy it in a yard sale?"

"Hey," I said in a warning voice, feeling oddly defensive about the dinosaur. He might not have been much, but I'd worked hard to save up for that car, taking extra shifts at the diner and working as late as possible in order to afford it. My blood, sweat and tears were practically ingrained into the interior leather seats, and the thought of getting rid of him had my stomach in knots. "Can you fix it or not?"

"I can," Nate replied, his fingers skimming his chin as his dark eyes roamed over the car. His eyebrows were drawn together in concentration, and I couldn't help but notice how attractive it made him look. "But I think it would be cheaper in the long run to just get a new car."

"Yeah, well, I can't think about the long run right now," I sighed, glancing down at my watch in alarm. "Oh great, I'm going to be late for my shift."

"Come on," Nate said, grabbing his jacket before walking toward the employee door. "I'll drop you."

"It's fine," I said, peeling myself off the wall. "I'll walk."

Nate gave me an agitated look in response. "It's just a ride, Meg, not a life long commitment."

I narrowed my eyes, but even though Nate was on the top of my hit list, my desire to not be fired from Barney's Diner was far stronger than my desire to not associate with a criminal.

"Fine," I said reluctantly, following Nate out of the auto shop and toward the truck, "but I need to stop off at home first and change into my uniform."

"No problem," Nate replied, and then we both clambered into the car and Nate turned on the stereo before pulling out onto the main road.

I told him where I lived and then we rode mostly in silence for a while, my eyes fixed on the window as fields upon fields passed us by. I often dreamt of what it would be like to make it to a city and see nothing but skyscrapers lining the distance. The buildings in Pinewood never reached more than two storey's high, and the only thing lining the distance were cattle.

"So, how do you like working at the diner?" Nate asked after a long stretch of silence, his voice sending a pool of nerves straight to the pit of my stomach–a pool I was intent on ignoring.

I didn't take my eyes off the window. "It sucks," I stated before glancing over at him. "But it's money."

He looked just as good from the side as he did from the front-a strong, defined jaw and a perfectly straight nose. Surprising, since Nate had no doubt been in countless fights over the years, if his rendezvous with the bikers was anything to go by.

"And it looks good on a college application," I added.

He raised a perfect eyebrow at that, which both infuriated me and caused something in my chest to flutter. "Is there anything you do that isn't for the sole benefit of looking good?"

I clenched my jaw in response, grateful when we finally pulled up to the house, though my heart thumped the way it always did when I arrived at the place I was supposed to call home. The lights were off, which made the house look even more depressing than usual, and I forced myself to glance at Nate to see the look on his face. I'd never brought anyone home before, and seeing the way Nate was staring up at the house reminded me why.

I supposed I couldn't blame him for his look of distaste. Even though I was used to seeing the state of my house, staring up at it from Nate's truck allowed me to look at it from a new perspective, and what I saw wasn't pretty.

The drab, gray paint was peeling and rotting, and the front lawn was full of weeds and over grown plants that looked as though they were making a break for it. I couldn't blame them, either.

If I had the chance, I'd make a break, too.

"I'll be right back," I said.

I slammed the car door shut behind me and creeped toward the house, pushing the front door open before hovering in the darkened hallway.

"Mom?" I called out, making my way into the living room before straining my eyes through the dark. There was nothing my mother hated more than the light, and I'd learned the hard way not to turn it on when she was resting.

Only silence answered back and her usual silhouette on the sofa was absent, so I turned on the living room light and scanned the room, finding it empty. With a deep breath, I ran upstairs and changed into my uniform before checking the bathroom, my heart sinking when my eyes fell on the rusting black pot on the shelf.

Her toothbrush was gone.