totally okay |lrh|

0.6

Lukes POV,,

We're booked solid for interviews on Wednesday and Thursday, so I don't get to see Indie again until Friday night. Her rusty red truck pulls up in front of the hotel at seven o'clock sharp. I jump in the passenger seat and she pulls away from the curb. We almost immediately get stuck in a massive traffic jam, probably the worst I've seen since we got to LA.

"This," Indie says, staring moodily at the long line of cars ahead of us, "is the worst part of living in LA."

"Worse than the heat?" I ask. It's slightly cooler now, but around midday, it was 90 degrees out. And it's supposed to get ever hotter this weekend.

She thinks about it for a second. "They tie."

The car ahead of us moves forward a little. Indie gently presses her foot on the gas pedal, edging the truck forward. But we move less than a meter.

"Geez," I say.

She cranes her neck out the window. "Crap, the traffic goes all the way around the block."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah." She pulls her head back in the car and rolls up the window. "I can't tell what the holdup is, though."

"Car accident, maybe?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "I can't tell from here."

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, I hear the high-pitched whining of ambulance sirens, getting closer and closer with each second.

"Must be a car accident, then," I say.

Indie bites her lip as she looks out the windshield again. "I hope everyone's alright," she says quietly.

I look over at her. She isn't looking at me, but even from the side, I can still see the new look in her eyes. The way her blue irises now look almost transparent, the pain buried deep down suddenly shining through, so obvious I wonder how I could have missed it before.

It takes me a moment to remember what she said to me on Tuesday, when we were in Double-Take, looking at shirts.

"You said your mom died in a car accident, didn't you?" As soon as I say it, I wonder if maybe I should've just kept my mouth shut, let Indie think through whatever's going on in her head in peace. But I can't deny that I'm curious, that I want to know more about what put that look in her usually cheerful eyes.

Her hands twist nervously in her lap. "Yeah." But she doesn't elaborate any more than that.

"I'm sure everyone's fine," I say.

She looks at me, the pain still shining through her eyes. "What?"

"Everyone in the car accident," I say. "I'm sure they're fine. That only sounded like one ambulance. If it was really bad, there would've been more."

"Oh. Right." She looks away again.

For a few minutes, we sit in silence. I'm just starting to wonder if I've completely ruined the date by bringing up her mother's death—what was I thinking asking her about that, anyway—when the car ahead of us inches forward again. Indie blinks and presses her foot on the gas pedal. I notice how far forward she has to sit on the seat for her feet to reach the pedals.

"Wow, Indie, could you be any shorter?" I ask, hoping to lighten the mood.

Thankfully, a grin pulls at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, at least I am not a giant string bean."

"Whoa, that was uncalled for," I say, grinning back.

"You started it," she says, easing her foot off the pedal as the traffic stops again. She groans and slumps back in the seat. "I don't think we're going to make that 7:30 movie."