Katie's Quest Ch. 03

Kieran watched her go, his smile fading as utter confusion set in. He'd known of Katie, obviously. Anyone within fifty miles of town knew of the Petersens. He'd seen her around, but she'd never spoken to him before. In fact, until she'd asked him about the survey for the student paper yesterday, she'd given no sign she even knew he existed.

Kieran felt the envious, resentful eyes of other boys on him and squirmed beneath their scrutiny. He wasn't used to being noticed. In fact, he went out of his way to avoid it. He wanted no part of any sort of drama, but Katie, whether she realized it or not, brought drama along for the ride with her. The mere fact that she'd been talking to him put Kieran on the entire student body's radar--and, potentially, a target sign on his back.

He tried not to ogle at Katie as she disappeared around the corner. But dammit, Kieran was a healthy teenager, and she...

He swallowed. "Beautiful" didn't do Katie Petersen justice. She was beyond such descriptors. Everything about her, from her toned legs to her angelic face to the lustrous sheen of her hair and the color of her eyes, seemed impossibly perfect. Flawless. Katie seemed almost to float above the mundane concerns of ordinary life, untouched by the grubbiness of the world around her. She seemed almost ethereal, a vision of womanhood made flesh.

Kieran was not one to gossip, but he had overheard some of the other guys in his classes say that Katie Petersen didn't date. He wasn't surprised. Her gorgeousness was intimidating, sapping the confidence of any guy who ventured near her like some sort of force field. Those who'd been able to overcome it had all been gently but firmly turned down.

And yet, not only had Katie gone out of her way to speak to him, she'd somehow gotten herself invited to his house! Something about her smile and the cheerful, down-to-earth way she spoke made Kieran lower his guard, almost as if she cast some sort of spell over him. Now that she'd left, the spell had broken, and he felt a fresh wave of panic despite the reassurances she'd given.

What was he going to do? He'd never had a girl over before! Would she really not mind the messy state of the house? What if she got her uniform dirty while he showed her around the shop? What if--

Kieran shut his eyes tight and took several deep breaths. Don't overthink it, he thought through clenched teeth. This is just a friend coming over to hang out. Don't even dare think otherwise.

Friend. The word sounded rusty. Unused. Kieran didn't have a lot of friends to begin with, and his mother's death had sent him right into isolationism. What few friends he did have became distant as Kieran stopped hanging out with them, and now, three years after her passing, he still had no desire to try rekindling any of those relationships. Grief robbed him of that, as it had so much else. Even the mere memory of his mother's face was too painful to bear. He pushed it away with an effort.

Whoever said all wounds heal with time was a fucking idiot, he thought sourly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

But Katie...something about her cut through the gloom that surrounded his life like a ray of sunshine streaming through an overcast sky. Her positivity and kindness both surprised and disarmed him. She exuded a kind of warmth that had been missing from his world for far too long, and now that she was no longer nearby, it was twice as noticeable by its absence.

Kieran tried to picture Katie Petersen in the repair garage, surrounded by tools and metal and engine grease, and couldn't help a chuckle. She'd seemed genuinely interested, but how long would that last? Not long, probably, he thought with a melancholy sigh. I'll just have to enjoy it while I can.

His anxiety grow more intense as the day wore on. Kieran shuffled from one class to another, doing his best to muddle through, but his heart just wasn't in it. When the final bell rang, it might as well have been a funeral gong.

This could be fun. This could be fun. Don't worry, it'll be okay...

Even as the words crossed his mind, Kieran didn't believe them. He just hoped that Katie wouldn't be too disappointed or put off.

No. She said she wasn't like that. She promised. She said she didn't care.

He wanted to believe her. So very much.

But what if she doesn't show up at all?

Kieran stopped in mid-stride. He hadn't considered that possibility, but it was a real one. What if Katie did flake? Would he be disappointed? Relieved? Both?

Kieran never discovered the answer to that question. When he walked out of school, Katie was waiting for him in the parking lot.

He sucked in a breath at the sight of her. He couldn't help it. Nor could he help the sudden surge of blood to a very particular part of his anatomy when the wind rustled her uniform skirt, showing just a peek of her inner thighs.

"Hi, Kieran!" Katie said, waving before running over to meet him halfway.

He probably should have responded with a greeting of his own, but instead all he could manage was, "You came."

"Duh." She rolled her eyes. "Of course I came, silly! So, you ready to head out? We could stop and grab something to eat first if you'd like, My treat."

"Oh, uh, n-no, that's okay." Kieran shook his head, trying to smile. "I appreciate it, really, but I'm not hungry."

"Of course you're hungry," Katie said matter-of-factly. "You're a guy."

Kieran flushed.

"Come on, let me do this for you," Katie insisted. She put her hand on his arm again and her touch was like a jolt of pure energy. How many boys had Katie Petersen touched, even casually? Not many. Of that Kieran was certain.

"Well...okay. If you really want to, but there's no pressure or anything."

"I know," she said. Katie looked down the line of cars in the parking lot. "So, which one's yours? I'm curious."

"I'll show you," he said quietly. "This way."

He led her past more than a dozen vehicles, some of which looked shiny enough to be fresh from the dealership. Don't be embarrassed, he told himself as he walked. You worked hard to fix it up. You spent months repairing it. Be proud. It doesn't matter that her dad has more cars in his garage than there are rooms in my house. It doesn't matter that she's used to riding in sports cars, it doesn't--

He almost walked right past it, so absorbed was he in his thoughts, but thankfully Kieran stopped himself just in time. "Here. This is it."

"It" was a small, silver-colored pickup truck, one that looked like it might have been built when Reagan was still president. It was a modest little vehicle, old but clearly well-maintained and cared for. Kieran had seen to that personally.

"It was a rustbucket when my dad got a hold of it," he said. "A real junker. Nothing worked--not the engine, not the brakes, not the steering, nothing. Dad said that if I could fix it up, I could keep it." He fished out his phone--an aging flip phone, not an Iphone--and showed her a picture on it. It was clearly the same vehicle, but the difference was as stark as night and day. The truck in the picture looked like it was left outside to rot for a decade. It was covered with rust and the driver's side door hung crazily from its hinges. It had no tires, no windshield, no mirrors, and no upholstery in the cabin.

"You fixed all of that?" Katie gasped.

"Yes."

"How long did it take?"

"About three years. I started when I was 15. Some of the parts I had to hunt down individually. The truck's a 1984 Ford Ranger, so it took a lot of time and patience. A lot of car shops don't carry parts that old; you have to go to parts dealers who specialize in the older stuff. It wasn't cheap either. I had to work two, sometimes three jobs in order to afford some of it."

'Did you dad help you at all?"

"No. He said it was my project, and I needed to stand on my own two feet. I'm glad of it, too. Sometimes you need to do things yourself, instead of relying on someone else to help you."

He couldn't have known it then, but that remark raised Katie's opinion of him considerably. Katie understood all too well the value of self-reliance and independence. Her grand plan to have a baby was built on the assumption that she'd have to take care of everything on her own.

"That's incredible," she said softly. "It looks almost like new."

Her praise made a thrill rush through him. Kieran felt momentarily light-headed.

Katie, oblivious, brushed a hand over the shiny handle on the door. "And you've been driving it for how long now?"

"A few months. I wash it and do maintenance on it every weekend." Kieran allowed a little pride to seep into his voice. "It runs great. It might not have a USB slot or a GPS or Bluetooth, but it'll take you from one end of the country to the other without breaking down and it's sturdy enough to shrug off unpaved roads and rough terrain." His mouth quirked. "And don't even get me started on the gas mileage. It's phenomenal."

"I can really tell how much effort and care you put into restoring it." Katie gazed up at him, her eyes shining. "Thank you for showing it to me, and letting me ride in it."

Looking into her bright, beautiful eyes was like looking into the sun, for he was only able to do so for a few seconds before he had to look away. Kieran averted his gaze quickly. "It's nothing," he mumbled. "But thank you for saying that."

He fumbled for his keys and unlocked the door to the passenger's side, holding it open for her.

"Such a gentleman," Katie said, with a giggle that almost sounded nervous. Kieran instantly dismissed the possibility. It was ludicrous. Impossible. Girls like Katie didn't get nervous about anything.

"I...er..." He stumbled over his words and cringed.

"Kieran, relax. I'm not making fun of you. I think it's really sweet." She clambered into her seat and Kieran tried not to look at her shapely behind. Get your mind out of the gutter, dammit! he thought furiously.

"So where would you like to go?' Katie asked, once he started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Would...would Panda Garden be okay?"

"Sure!" Katie chirped. "You like Chinese food, huh?"

"Oh, yes. But my dad hates it, so I almost never get to have it. Sometimes he'll get it for my birthday though."

"Panda Garden it is, then!"

Fifteen minutes later, they were pulling away from the small fast-food restaurant with several Styrofoam boxes nestled in Katie's lap. The smell was heavenly and filled the truck's cabin. Kieran fought to keep his mouth from watering.

"You like Chinese food too?" he asked.

"Yeah, but I don't have it very often either." Katie gestured at herself. "Health nut, remember?"

"R-right."

"How far away is your place?"

"Not far now. Maybe about 15 more minutes," said Kieran. "So..." he trailed off as he searched for another topic of conversation. "What do you do for fun, Katie? We've talked about my hobby. What are some of yours?"

"Oh, I do all sorts of things!" she said. "Swimming, volleyball, baseball. I've done a few beauty pageants--"

"Beauty pageants?" Kieran couldn't help a snort of laughter.

"Is that really so unbelievable?" Katie asked, narrowing her eyes in mock affrontery.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because if they let you enter, it's no longer a competition. It's a formality."

Katie barked out a surprised laugh at Kieran's wry humor. "I appreciate the compliment, though if you saw some of the other girls who participated, you might not be so certain."

I doubt that, Kieran thought sardonically, but decided to let the matter drop.

"As for my other hobbies...I'm on the cheerleading team of course, and then there's tae kwon do..."

"You do martial arts?" he asked, surprised.

"Yup! Got my black belt last year." Katie's voice took on a teasing edge. "Why? Are you scared?"

"N-no, of course not! It's just...surprising, that's all."

"Why would it be surprising? A girl's gotta know how to take care of herself, Kieran." Her expression turned serious. "Not every guy is decent like you."

Kieran's face turned so red and burned so hot one could have toasted marshmallows on cheeks. "Thanks. That, um, that's really nice of you to say." I'm not anything special though, he added silently. Not really. Not like you. "You must be a really competitive person to do all that. I wish I had that kind of energy."

"Don't sell yourself short!" Katie's tone was mildly scolding. "You spent three years fixing up a car that most people would have broken down for parts years ago. That takes just as much determination as any of the stuff I'm involved in, and don't let yourself think otherwise."

She really isn't snobby at all, Kieran thought. He felt a fresh wave of guilt over the assumption he'd made about her earlier. Katie continued to talk as he turned onto a street that led to his father's place of business.

"So, what's your dad like, Kieran?"

"He's pretty cool. I guess you could say he's a little more...hands-off than other parents. He generally gives me my space, but he's always there if I need help with something. He's not, like, distant or cold or anything, you know?"

"I think I understand," Katie nodded. "Every parent has their own style."

"Exactly." He bit his lip, debating his next question carefully before he dared to ask it. "What's your dad like?"

"Oh, he's really great," Katie said. Her blue eyes brightened, like a clear aquamarine lake on a summer's day. It was all Kieran could do not to gape. He had never seen eyes like that before. Jesus fucking Christ, she's stunning.

"He's really nice and always tries to make time for me despite his busy schedule," Katie went on. Mercifully, she seemed unaware of the momentary effect she'd had on him. "One of the things he likes do to is take me to the Renaissance Fair every year. It's sort of a tradition. I've been going since I was five. Have you ever been?"

"No, but I've heard of it and I think it sounds cool. What's your favorite thing there?"

"Probably the glass blowing! They have a live demonstration where they show you how people made glass way back when, and you can even buy the stuff they make!"

Kieran gave a wistful sigh. "Sounds really interesting. I wish I could go."

"Why don't you? You've got a car."

"Yeah, but my dad usually needs help on weekends. That's when the shop is busiest."

"Oh." Katie looked a bit crestfallen. "And you've never asked him for a day off?"

"Not yet, no. I think he'd give it to me if I asked him, but I don't want to make a habit of it. That way, when I really do want one, he'll be more likely to say yes."

Katie pursed her lips, accepting his logic as Kieran pulled into the driveway behind the shop and switched off the engine. "Smart. So this is it?"

"Welcome to Callaway Auto Repair," Kieran said dryly, gesturing at the place with an arm. "This is where the magic happens."

Katie snorted and reached for the door handle, only to find that Kieran was already opening it for her. She beamed with pleasure. Her smile was so dazzling, so bright, it made Kieran's breath catch in his throat.

"Thank you," she said.

"D-don't worry about it." Kieran's voice trembled a little and he cursed himself for it. "Some people think it's old-fashioned, but--"

"I don't," Katie said firmly. "I think it's chivalrous and very sweet. If other girls can't see that, that's their problem. Your dad raised you right."

"My mom did too," Kieran added quietly, so quietly Katie thought he hadn't meant for her to hear. She decided, tactfully, not to comment on it and looked around at the shop instead.

It was a small establishment, with garage space enough for several vehicles at a time, and a small unpaved lot next door where cars would be parked until they were worked on. In the front there was a small waiting area stocked with magazines for customers to wait in, and beyond that--Katie assumed--was the office where Kieran's dad kept his office.

Kieran fished a set of keys out of his pocket and opened the door for her. "After you."

She beamed again and walked inside, looking around with interest. The small waiting room was stocked with magazines--mostly about cars--and a tiny television set hung from the ceiling in one corner. Katie picked up one of the magazines and flipped through it curiously.

"Any of those look familiar?" Kieran asked.

Katie nodded, pointing to a bright red sports car in the centerfold. "My dad has one of these."

"Ferarri." The name rolled off Kieran's tongue with reverence. "That exact same model?"

"No, it looks a little different. And it's silver, not red."

"Wise choice. My dad always says that a brightly-colored sports car is a bad idea. An absolute magnet for traffic cops." He snorted. "Not that I think any cops would try pulling over your dad."

"Being the mayor does have its perks," Katie agreed with a chuckle. "Can I see the shop now?"

"Sure. This way." He fished out the keys again, opened up a door labeled "EMPLOYEES ONLY" in big red letters and held it for her. Beyond was the workshop in all its chaotic glory. No less than three cars sat there--one suspended on jacks, another with its hood propped open. The third lay on the floor like a wounded steer, surrounded by several toolboxes and an assortment of wrenches. There was also a long workbench set against the far wall, as well as a number of tall cabinets.

Katie took it all in, studying everything with eager curiosity. Her gaze lingered on the workbench for a moment. Kieran, seeing this, took it as a sign that she wanted to know more about it. He was happy to elaborate. "Grandpa made that workbench back when this place first opened up. It's been repaired, but it'll never be replaced if we can help it."

What Katie had actually been doing was fantasizing about being fucked over that workbench, imagining herself bent over it with her skirt hiked up while Kieran pounded her from behind. The fantasy was so arousing that she nearly made her move right then and there before her more logical side reasserted itself. As much as she wanted to get pregnant, now was not the time.

No hint of any of this showed on her face, however, so Kieran remained blissfully ignorant. Katie nodded, as if accepting his words, though she hadn't heard most of them. "And those cars? What's wrong with them?"

Kieran pointed to each of them in turn. "Damaged brakes, damaged engine, and that last one...we still haven't figured out what's wrong with it yet. Dad thinks it might be the break line, but I'm not so certain."

"What's your theory?"

"The transmission," Kieran said at once. "Got to be the transmission. Something's out of whack there."

"How can you tell?"

"The noise. The thing with cars is, when you work with them long enough, you start to recognize which parts make which noises, and what kinds of noises they make when they're not working correctly. I know what a car sounds like when the transmission is on the fritz."

"You can tell all that just by the sound?"

"Yup." Kieran couldn't help feeling a little smug. Then a question occurred to him, something he hadn't thought to ask before. "Do you have a car?"

Katie nodded. "I do, but I don't drive it much. I have a license and everything, though."

"Do you mind if I ask what kind?"

"Mercedes-Benz."

"You have good taste in cars, Katie. The Germans always make good ones. My dad swears that the Volkswagen beetle is the easiest car in the world to fix."

"What's the hardest?"

Kieran thought for a second. "Probably Jaguars. Especially the older models, like the XJS V12."

"Ever worked on one?"

"Yeah." Kieran made a face. "Once. I'm in no hurry to repeat the experience. Thankfully, we don't get a lot of cars like that. Mostly it's just run-of-the-mill stuff. Honda Civics, Toyota Camrys, the kind of cars you see on the road every day. Once in a while we'll get an interesting one, but not often."