“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”
I can’t sense any distinct emotion in him. He doesn’t smile nor does he frown. I can’t read his expression and somehow that makes me a bit uneasy.
“Are you cold?”
He sniffles but straight up lies, “I’m fine.”
Fine, my ass. It’s freezing out here and he wants to act like a tough little man? Kids these days are a different breed. “You’re shivering like a damn leaf.”
“I’m not. You are.”
Puppy dog eyes glare up at me and I know he means to be threatening but he’s honestly way too cute to be taken seriously. His reddened fingers squeeze my gloved hand, compelling me to give him my full attention.
Gesturing at the scarf he says, “I have this. I’m not cold.”
That was the most adorable thing I’ve seen in a long time. Goodness, I usually don’t like kids that much because they’re hard to understand but this brat is funny.
Why must he be so stubborn when he’s clearly freezing? I won’t judge him for it. “You’re silly.”
“You are.”
My lips pull into a fine line, and I shake my head, lost at what I could answer at this point. I sense this boy will continue to surprise me.
3
Visha
We keep strolling hand in hand for a while longer until we reach a white BMW. This mister has a pretty smile, but he keeps treating me like I’m made of sugar. It’s annoying.
Is it weird holding a stranger’s hand and following them home? Absolutely. Am I going to be sensible and go back home? Hell, no.
For the first time in a long time, maybe in my whole life, someone has extended their hand to me. Not once, buttwice. Even if this man is dangerous, I’m ready to take the risk because this warmth is more than worth it.
He unlocks the door and holds it open for me, barely paying me any attention. I settle down in the passenger seat, relishing the feeling of the luxurious leather under me. Sitting down behind the steering wheel, he immediately starts the ignition and lets the engine warm up before turning on the seat heater.
He slides off his gloves to reveal pale skin and long fingers. I expected as much due to his complimentary face but seeing his hands makes me want to reach for them.
Wait, no. Okay, I need to stop thinking about the weirdest things right now. Hold his bare hand? Why on Earth would I want to do that?
I haven’t been in a car since the day my foster parents welcomed me into their home. When I say welcomed, I mean dragged.Literally. They didn’t even give me the time to get myhopes up before breaking me down. They never let me ride in their car and always make me take the bus or go on foot.
“I know I offered to take you with me but are you sure? I mean, aren’t you being too reckless? What if I’m a serial killer or, I don’t know, a child trafficker?”
Nothing could be worse than the torture I go through in that house on a daily basis.
“Maybe you could tell me your name before killing me and chopping me into pieces for your Christmas feast?” I joke.
He chokes on his spit and accidentally smacks the honk. “Jesus, don’t say things like that.”
He’s truly intriguing and somewhat childish, but it’s endearing. He must be in his twenties at most, his skin is youthful, but he has slight dark circles. Insomnia, maybe? He doesn’t look at me and taps his index finger on the steering wheel in rhythm with the beat of the song playing on the radio.
“Ah, yeah. Sorry. I’m Aoi Holden. Nice to meet you,” he introduces himself politely and smiles.
He sure does that a lot. Smiling comes easy to him, compared to me who struggles with it. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I genuinely felt joyful enough to smile.
“What does it mean?” I ask, hinting at what he mentioned previously about my name.
Aoi’s smile becomes shy, and he scratches his nape as he replies in a half chuckle, “It refers to the colors green and blue in Japanese.”
