“What are you doing here?”
“Just my luck,” I mumble, walking up to the counter where Nate is standing on the other side.
“I’m here to pay my fine.” I hold up the piece of paper.
“Here?” His eyebrows pull together like a tightrope.
“I can do that, right?”
“You’re serious.” His hands grip the counter, and my eyes roam to his arms. The muscles are defined like the lines in an ant farm.
What? An ant farm, Lizzy?
I roll my eyes.
“No need to get sassy.”
“Huh?” My eyes snap to his. “I wasn’t…not sassy. I was thinking…rolling eyes at myself.” I stammer and fall over my words. “I am serious. I can’t get the website to work. I’ve tried a million times, and it doesn’t take me to the right page.” I sigh in exasperation.
I’ve tried paying this fine all day in between classes, and nothing worked. I forgot last night after getting home from Dani’s house and saw the ticket in my purse this morning.
I scratch the side of my head, my bun hanging off the side, my signature look recently.
Nate’s eyebrows slowly lift, his eyes stuck on the top of my head.
“Messy buns are the new updos,” I spit out.
“What?” His face scrunches up.
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “Bad joke. Anyway, who do I make the check out to?” I slam the paper on the counter in an attempt to seem cool, which is actually the total opposite.
I bet he’s one of those people who makes his bed first thing in the morning. Me? I make coffee first. Then, I figure out the rest. And to be honest, most days my bed remains unmade.
“Right. You actually can’t write a check. You have to pay online.”
“Is everything about technology nowadays?”
I’m tech savvy. Well, to a point. I can’t build you some computer system, but I know how to use one well. The county website is not working properly.
“It’s easier and more direct,” Nate says.
“Well, something’s not working on the site. I don’t want to get a fee on top of this fine.” I shake my head.
He sighs, tapping the keyboard on the computer.
“Did you go here?” He turns the screen over so I can see it.
“Yes.”
“And then you click this link.” He talks slowly, as if teaching a child how to use scissors for the first time.
“Yeah…” I lift my brows.
“Here’s the payment area.”
“What? No. I didn’t get that option. This is like taking your car to the mechanic because it’s sputtering and when you arrive the devious thing purrs like a well-loved cat.”
Nate looks at me out of the corner of his eyes with a small smile. “I knew you were a cat person.”