The fix, when we finally found it, was almost insultingly simple.
"It’s not even the solenoid," Marcus said, staring at the wiring harness like it had personally wronged him. "The connector’s just not seated right. It’s been sitting a millimeter off this whole time."
I pushed it back into place myself, heard it click properly for the first time in hours, and just stood there for a second, absorbing the specific flavor of humiliation that comes from spending half a day chasing a problem that a firmer push would’ve solved in ten seconds.
"We’re mechanics," Marcus said flatly. "We’re professional mechanics."
"Don’t."
"I’m just saying it out loud so we both have to sit with it."
The Civic started clean on the next try, idling smooth and even, like it had never given either of us a moment’s trouble in its life.
By the time I’d changed out of my coveralls and stowed them back in my locker, Nicole was standing a few feet off, leaning against a wall, watching me with an expression that had settled somewhere around quietly delighted. I did my best to ignore it, mostly on principle, though I was fairly sure she’d been staring for a solid two minutes at that point without once looking away.
Mr. Tanaka came down from the office holding an empty container, handed it back to her with both hands like something formal was happening.
"That was genuinely one of the best meals I’ve had in months," he said. "Thank you."
"It’s really no big deal."
He glanced over at me, something knowing in the smile, and walked off without another word.
Nicole straightened up off the wall she’d been leaning against.
"Ready to head out?"
I nodded, then paused. "I drove here, though. You’re going to need—"
"It’s fine. I’ll just ride with you."
Another pause.
"What about your car?"
"I’ll have someone pick it up."
I gave her a look.
She glanced down, a little caught. "I’m aware of how that sounded."
I stared at her for a moment, and my thoughts drifted back over the whole of the day without meaning to. The lunch she’d made from scratch, hours of her morning gone into it without complaint. The way she’d lit up just being allowed to stand there and watch me work, like it was somehow the highlight of her week rather than a mechanic covered in grease doing his job. The way she’d watched me change out of my coveralls like it was the most natural thing in the world to stand there and just look.
My eyes dropped to her boots.
They were stained with oil. I hadn’t clocked it until just now, and she hadn’t so much as glanced down at them since it happened, not once, like ruining a pair of boots that probably cost more than my rent was a completely acceptable trade for standing next to me for hours.
I exhaled. "Wanna grab something to drink?"
Her head came up fast. "Yes."
I huffed a laugh despite myself. "Come on."
She fell into step beside me without another word.
We pulled into the lot of some bar a few blocks over; nowhere I usually went, just the first place that looked reasonably decent from the road. We got out, and my eyes dropped to her boots again before I could stop them.
She followed my gaze down, then shrugged. "They’re just boots."
"You say that like they’re not very expensive."
She paused, then simply grabbed my arm.
"Come on. I’m buying the first round."
I let her pull me along, mostly because arguing about a pair of boots she’d clearly already forgotten about felt like a losing battle before it even started.
We found a table near the back, ordered, and by the time the drinks landed in front of us, she’d already leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin nearly resting in her hands.
She stared at me, unguarded, smiling like she had nowhere else in the world she’d rather be.
I stared at her for a moment, working through everything I actually wanted to say and landing, as usual, on the safest version of it.
"You know, the way you’ve been acting today, people would think I’m the older one."
"I don’t mind."
"Excuse me."
We both looked up. A guy, maybe late twenties, dressed a notch too intentionally for the bar we were in; dark jacket, watch catching the light on purpose, the kind of smile that had clearly worked on someone before.
"I saw you from over there and couldn’t help myself." He extended a hand toward Nicole, not so much as glancing at me. "Gerald."
Nicole looked at his hand, then at his face, then turned back to me entirely, like he’d already stopped existing.
"So. What were you saying?"
I sat there for a second, completely thrown, because I had not seen that coming. Any of it.
Gerald, apparently not ready to give up just yet, glanced at me instead.
"Tough crowd, huh?"
I smirked, leaning back slightly. "She’s usually very friendly. Maybe she just doesn’t like you."
Nicole finally turned to look at him properly, expression unreadable for exactly as long as it took her to speak.
"It’s true. I don’t like you. Not one bit."
Gerald glanced between the two of us, his smile completely dying somewhere in the process, muttered something under his breath, and walked off without another word.
A beat of silence.
Then we both burst out laughing at the same time.
"Didn’t know you were this mean."
"I’m generally a mean girl." She took a sip of her drink, entirely unbothered. "I’m only like this around you."
I sat with that for a second, then let a smirk creep in.
"Then I should be careful once you stop liking me."
She gave me a look. "Nice try."
She took another sip of her drink. I just sat there, staring at her for a moment.
She mouthed, no sound at all: What.
I shook my head.
She gave me a look, half suspicious, half amused, clearly enjoying herself regardless.
I took a sip of my drink instead of answering, and sat with it for a second, thinking about how far away "terms and conditions" felt from wherever we actually were now.