Holland shifts from one foot to the other, looking like he’s losing his patience.
“It happens. Come on, let’s go,” he holds out his arm, waiting for me to follow him to his car as the Uber pulls up to the curb.
Well fuck, what the hell do I do?
I look from Holland’s outstretched arm to the Uber now waiting expectantly.
Take the Uber, Lainey. You don’t want to be near Holland right now. Get in the Uber and go home.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I look between them once more. The driver rolls down the passenger side window, leaning down so his head is seen through the crack.
“Are you Winifred Ackley?” he calls out. I wince at the fake name I’d put in the app because I didn’t want anyone to know my real name.
Holland cocks his head in question, raising an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips. “Winifred?”
I roll my eyes. “Shut up,” I hiss.
“Come on,Winifred. Let me take you home,” he urges. Fuck it.
“Fine.”
Walking toward Holland, he swings his arm over my shoulders, walking us to the parking lot.
Oh, Lainey. You stupid, stupid girl.
When we get to Holland’s Mustang, instead of opening the door for me, he walks to the driver’s side and gets in. Rolling my eyes, I tug on the handle, but it’s locked. Are you kidding me?
I knock on the window to get his attention, and he rolls it down slightly.
“What are you doing? Get in the car,” he orders. Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare at him.
“I would if I could. It’s locked, genius.”
‘Shit, sorry,” Holland laughs, unlocking the door so I can finally get in. Is he seriously laughing at me right now? I am in no mood for his shit, and now I’m thinking taking the Uber may have been a better choice.
Pulling on my seatbelt, I look out the window, ignoring Holland completely. Well, I’m trying to, but his annoying ass keeps looking over at me like I’m some exhibit in a museum.
Huffing out a breath, I turn to look at him. “Do I need to tell you to take a picture because it’ll last longer?”
Holland narrows his eyes, studying my face before shaking his head and turning back to the windshield.
As he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road, I sink back into my seat.
“Is bitch your natural setting? Is there like, an off switch for that?” he asks, my eyes widening at the audacity.
“Excuse me?” I ask, shooting him the biggest death glare I can muster. Holland chuckles to himself, thinking he’s so fucking funny. Well, he’s not.
“You’re so nice to everyone else, why are you so prickly with me?”
“Because I like other people. I don’t like you,” I shoot back, knowing that’s a bullshit lie. I do like him. I think I like him a lot even though he annoys the shit out of me, and I want to hit him half the time.
He chuckles again, looking so carefree and unconcerned, and watching him now makes me think about when we were kids, and he would run around without a care in the world.
He had no idea that I was dying inside, no idea how much I yearned for a relationship with my parents like the relationship he had with his. No freaking clue that I was drowning in feelings I couldn’t even comprehend at that age, feelings no child should ever have to endure.
But watching him, seeing how he never let anything bother him, that helped.
“Oh, come on, Lainey Bug. We both know that’s not true. You’re in love with me,” he teases. My heart stops and a spark of anxious energy runs through me at his words.
