I take him in, the implication of his words chanting in my head.
Hoagie dick, hoagie dick, hoagie dick.
Stop thinking about his damn hoagie dick, Laura.
I nearly choke at my own thoughts but clear my throat instead to hide it.
“Use you as I please?” I repeat with a sarcastic edge. “Oh, I have plenty of things I’ve been thinking about doing to you since we met.”
He dips his chin just as he drops his arms, and those deep blue eyes have nearly turned dark, making my toes curl.
“Oh yeah?” His voice drops lower. “Like what?”
The air between us feels thick. My mouth opens but nothing comes out because suddenly all I can think about is—
“I mean, obviously murder,” he says, breaking into a grin. “You’ve been planning my demise since the fountain incident. I know the look.”
I exhale, not realizing I’d been holding my breath. “Obviously murder. What else would I mean?”
“Nothing else. Definitely nothing else.” But his eyes are still doing that thing, and I need to get out of this concession area before I do or say something stupid. “Look, you don’t need to worry about me. I can take the bus.”
“And be late?” He raises an eyebrow. “Come on, Princess. You just spent the last hour arguing that external forces control everything. Don't let them win now.”
I want to roll my eyes at the callback, but there's something genuine in his expression that makes me pause. He actually listened. He actually engaged with what I was saying, and now he's throwing it back at me.
“Fine,” I say, pointing my finger at him. “But if you tell anyone about this, you're dead.”
His lips quirk into a smile as he raises his hands in surrender. “It’ll be our little secret.” Then he gestures to the exit. “My car’s in the lot. Lead the way, Princess.”
I pack my bag, and just as I finish, Scotty plucks it out of my hand and hauls it over his shoulder.
“Hey. You don’t need to do that,” I say, trying to take my bag back, but he doesn’t let me. “You’ve already got to carry your hockey stuff.”
“It’s okay.” He pats his own bag. “It balances me out.”
I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth and look to the floor. “Thanks,” I mumble quietly, too embarrassed to really say anything else.
Scotty takes the lead when we head out to the parking lot, and I slow when I see the cars parked.
Typical.
The first one parked is a red Lamborghini. Obviously, that’s his. Am I surprised? No, but honestly, I hoped he was more than a walking cliché, but yet again, I was proven wrong. I wonder if his dad bought him the flashy car with all the money from the reality show.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he says.
“Am I that obvious?” I say emotionlessly, wondering how on earth I’m going to change in that car. It’s only got two front seats.
“I know, it’s a little run down, but I love it, and I worked my ass off to pay for it.”
My brows cross, and I study him with confusion. “You’re joking, right? If that’s your definition of run down, you should see my hunk of metal.”
“You’re being too kind. I know it’s not great, but it’s hugely sentimental to me. It’s the first thing I bought with the money I saved from my teaching job.”
“You bought that with a teaching gig? How rich are these kids?” I choke out. None of my acting teaching would ever amount to being able to afford a car like that.
“Huh?”
“Your car.” I point to the bright red car in front of me. “I’m not much of a car person, but isn’t that worth like half a million?”
