"You scared?" he says and his gaze cuts to me like we're not hurtling into the curve at ninety.
"Hey!" I grab his chin, shove it forward. "Eyes on the road, Mister Furious. Is this why you brought me? To finally kill me?"
"I'd revive you anyway." Said fast, like it's obvious. "Though you'd probably complain about how I did it."
"Valid concern. Mouth-to-mouth from you? I'd rather haunt you." I say, even though my brain stutters because I'm not crazy—Ben's definitely flirting with me.
And I meanwhat? What?!
He snorts a doubtful laugh. "Weren't you my blood type?"
"You mean Reckless Positive?" I raise both brows. "I am, around you. Give it an hour."
He grins and cranks up the volume as the chorus swells. I throw my hands up, fingers chasing the wind as freedom slips through, and I can't help but join his contagious smile.
"Why does it feel like we never aged?" I yell over the music.
"You didn't," he shouts back. "Still look like a baby."
"I'll always look like a baby." I give him a pompous side-glance.
"True. Heart-shaped face. Round eyes. Skin nicely elastic. You'll fool us guys for decades."
Alright. Don't ask him what else he noticed about you. No. Let the boring voice win."For your information, I'm not fooling any guys anymore."
He tuts. "Relax, you prude."
"Excuse me?"
"Exactly." He smirks. "Stop saying 'excuse me' like that."
I toss my head back against the seat, squint at the strips of water shimmering in the distance, and pay him back with a dry, "Well, you haven't changed."
"I beg to differ." His tone is suddenly clipped. For no reason I can see.
"Ha! Who's proper now?" I jab, bouncing on my seat like I just scored a point.
"Whatever," he mutters, then grips the wheel tighter and floors it. The speedometer leaps to 100 in a flash.
He's either trying to outrun something or wanting me to beg him to slow down. Which I won't.
Instead, I roll my eyes. "Okay, you grump. That scruff suits your grumpy mood."
He snorts and runs a hand over his jaw. "I barely have a scruff, can't really grow it. Plus, I prefer it shaved."
"Me too," I say, mostly to see his reaction.
He flicks me a look. "Yeah? I might shave it then."
It feels as though he's saying it to see my reaction too. But I give him none, just shrug lazily.
He snorts. "Why'd you cut your hair?"
I pull a face and tilt toward him, bolder than I should be. "You want the absolute truth?"
"Always."
"It was a little fuck-off to you—I knew you liked it long,"I say with pursed lips.
