The Mechanic’s Apprentice – Part 18

Everyone in this story is 18+

Spiral

The shop smelled of grease and cold metal, the faint hum of Old Tom’s radio playing holiday tunes in the background. I leaned against the workbench, my phone balanced in one hand, the other mindlessly spinning a wrench. On the screen, the video of Connor’s recital on YouTube played again, the shaky recording somehow making his movements look even more unreal. The way he landed every move perfectly, the strength in his leaps, the confidence that radiated through the crowd—it all hit me like a punch every time I watched it. But at the same time, I was mesmerized.

I’d told myself I just wanted to see how the recital went, but now I’d watched it more times than I wanted to admit. Something about it—about him—kept pulling me back.

Old Tom’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Now, this here’s the tricky part,” he said, gesturing to a row of oil cans on the shelf. “Synthetic, semi-synthetic, high-mileage... All depends on the car and the season. See, in winter—”

“Yeah, got it, Tom,” I muttered, cutting him off. My tone wasn’t unkind, but I couldn’t pretend to care about oil today.

He gave me a look, the kind only Old Tom could pull off—equal parts understanding and mild exasperation.

Then the sound of the shop door opening drew both our attention. I glanced up and froze. Connor stepped inside, bundled against the December chill, his expression unreadable.

“Connor!” Old Tom said with exaggerated cheer. “Just the guy I need. Got a problem with the card terminal—thing won’t process payments right. You kids are good with all this electronic stuff.”

I stared at Old Tom, catching the way his eyes darted between me and Connor.

Connor sighed, walking toward the counter. “Let me see.”

He fiddled with the terminal for maybe ten seconds before straightening up. “There’s nothing wrong with it. Someone must’ve hit the wrong button.” His tone was clipped, and his eyes flicked briefly to me before looking away. “You’re all set, Tom.”

“Well, look at that. Fixed like magic,” Old Tom said, grinning.

Connor turned to leave, but I moved without thinking. “Connor, wait.”

He stopped but didn’t turn around.

“Please, can we just talk?” My voice cracked despite myself. “I know I messed up, but—”

“No, Ryder.” He finally turned, his blue eyes colder than I’d ever seen them. “Forget it.”

He brushed past me, heading for the door just as it opened again. A brunette walked in, carrying a bag of costumes. “Yes, Elena, I’m coming,” Connor said before she could speak.

“I just came up with an idea for the Christmas ballet,” she replied, her tone light but curious as her eyes flicked between us.

“That’s great, Elena,” Connor said, his voice sharper now. “I’m coming. There’s nothing holding me up here. Let’s go.”

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment, but she said nothing, and they both disappeared into the cold December air.

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening as I stared at the door, the weight of Connor’s words sinking in.

“Sorry, kid. I know you didn’t ask. But I tried,” Old Tom said, his voice gruff but kind.

“That’s okay, Tom,” I replied, forcing a small smile.

He nodded, shuffling back toward his tools. He didn’t know every detail—he didn’t need to. But I knew he only wanted to help, and for that, I couldn’t be mad at him.

---

Steam swirled around me as the hot water cascaded over my shoulders, the hiss of the shower loud in the quiet bathroom. My hands braced against the slick tiles as I tried to let the heat loosen the tightness in my chest. But it didn’t work. Nothing did.

My thoughts drifted back, unbidden, to the last time Connor and I had been in a shower together. The way he’d laughed softly against my neck, his hands trailing over my skin, his lips brushing mine. It had been so easy, so natural. He made me feel safe, like I could actually let my guard down without losing something.

I groaned and pumped my fist against my forehead. "Stupid," I muttered, the word echoing in the small space. "So fucking stupid."

I shut off the water and stepped out, wrapping a towel around my waist. Wiping the fog from the mirror, I caught my reflection—messy hair, tired eyes, and a face that couldn’t hide how much of a mess I felt inside. I shook my head and grabbed some clothes, heading downstairs.

In the living room, Mom was curled up on the couch, a mug of coffee in her hand and some Hallmark Christmas movie playing on the TV. She glanced up as I passed, raising an eyebrow.

“Where are you off to?” she asked.

“Out with some friends,” I mumbled, tugging on my jacket.

Her eyes flicked over me for a moment before she asked casually, “Oh, are you going out with Connor?”

My chest tightened, and I hesitated, my hand frozen on the zipper. “No. Not really. And we’re not… we’re not friends. Not anymore.”

She frowned, her face softening. “That’s too bad. I really liked Connor. And, Ryder, if there’s ever anything you want to tell me…”

I met her eyes for a brief moment, feeling a knot tighten in my throat. For a split second, I considered it—laying everything out, finally saying what was going on. But the words wouldn’t come.

“No,” I said, shrugging it off. “It’s nothing. Bye.”

She sighed, her voice following me as I opened the door. “Just keep out of trouble, Ry!”

I didn’t look back. “Always do,” I called over my shoulder, even though we both knew that wasn’t true.

---

The night air bit at my cheeks as I skated through the familiar streets, the weight of everything still sitting heavy in my chest. My board clicked against the pavement as I approached the party, the low thrum of music and laughter spilling out onto the lawn. The house was packed, just like old times.

As I stepped inside, a few heads turned. “Ryder?” a guy near the door called out, his grin wide and a little mocking. “Wow, long time no see. Thought you ditched us for good.”

I shrugged, forcing a smirk. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Word is you’ve gone legit,” another chimed in, taking a swig of his beer. “Working a real job and everything. What happened to you, man?”

I let out a short laugh, not really feeling it. “Guess I got tired of the same old shit.”

They laughed, slapping my back as if I’d made a killer joke. I let them, slipping through the crowd and grabbing a beer. The music was loud, the conversations blending into a hum that felt both familiar and distant. I sipped my beer, the alcohol dulling the edges of my thoughts just enough to make the noise bearable.

Later, someone offered me a joint. I hesitated for a second before taking it, the familiar burn in my lungs bringing back memories I wasn’t sure I wanted to revisit. The buzz settled in quickly, and I leaned back, letting it mix with the beer. For a moment, the weight in my chest felt a little lighter.

“Ryder?”

The voice snapped me out of my haze, and I turned to see Gabby standing there. Her dark hair was curled, her makeup perfect, but there was something different in her eyes. Softer, maybe. Regretful.

“Hey,” I said, my voice guarded.

She stepped closer, wrapping her arms around herself. “I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry. About Remi. About all of it.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Didn’t think you cared.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “I do. I did. He’s… it’s over. He cheated on me, if you can believe that.”

“Yeah, I can,” I muttered, taking another sip of my beer.

Her lips twitched into a faint smile. “I guess I deserve that.”

We stood there for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background. Then she tilted her head, her smile turning more playful. “You look good, Ryder.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Maybe,” she admitted, stepping closer. “But I’m not lying.”

She leaned in, her hand brushing my arm, and for a second, I froze. Then I let her kiss me, her lips warm and familiar against mine. It wasn’t what I needed, but it was something.

When she pulled back, her eyes searched mine. “Do you want to go upstairs?”

I hesitated, the weight in my chest pressing down again. But the thought of being alone tonight was worse.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice quiet. “Let’s go.”