“Who says I want to . . .” He pauses to laugh. “Unbalanced asshole? Really?”
“Oh, please. You ‘dig red hair’? In my world that’s a line. And a bad one, even.”
“Yes, I said I like red hair. Not you, Sutton. Relax over there.”
“Whatever.” But his reaction seems genuinely puzzled. I may be projecting a bit—at least that’s what the court-appointed therapist would have said.
Cameron puts his palm over his mouth and stares out the windshield as the rain comes down a little harder. I want him to start driving because this is really strange—the wholemesitting withhimin a Beamer.
“Are you really going to take me home?” I ask finally. He smiles.
“I don’t know. This is pretty fun. First time I’ve been called an asshole in weeks.”
I laugh. “I find that hard to believe.”
“But yeah,” he says. “I’ll take you home. Unless you want to go somewhere else first?”
“No. Home is good.” But I wonder where he’d take me if I said yes. In fact, I’m surprised he’d be seen with me at all. He really isn’t in the crowd I run with these days. He doesn’t look like an ex-junkie or a fighter. He just looks . . . good.
Cameron switches on the windshield wipers. He waits a minute and I don’t know if it’s because he expects me to talk more. For someone who barely speaks, he sure likes to do it with me a lot.
“Sutton?” he asks. I look sideways at him, my heart speeding up.
“Yeah?”
“I sort of need to know where you live.”
Right. I didn’t think to tell him that. “Twenty-sixth and Division.”
His mouth opens but he closes it quickly. I’m sure he doesn’t spend much time in my part of town. He shifts his car into gear and begins to drive.
We’re quiet for a while and he doesn’t turn on his radio, which is really uncomfortable. I wonder what sort of music he listens to. I glance at his face.
Okay, seriously. Why is he taking me home? There’s no way he finds methatinteresting.
He notices me staring. “What now?” He smiles a little.
“Why are you taking me home?” I ask.
“Because it’s raining. You were walking. I’d be a complete tool if I just drove by, right?”
“I’m used to tools.”
He lets my words hang in the air, and I realize they make me sound bitter and scorned. Great. Of all the lines he leaves out there, it couldn’t be one that makes me seem even halfway normal?
Cameron pulls onto Division and glances around the street. I’m glad it’s raining. When it rains, people stay inside. He won’t have to see my neighbors.
“Have you always lived out here?” he asks.
“Not really any of your business.”
“Just making conversation.”
“Yeah. I’ve always lived here.” Although when my mother was around, the dishes were done and we ate more than mac ’n’ cheese.
“Oh.” He stares out the windshield, driving down my street, and each moment brings me more humiliation.
I motion to the houses. “You can stop here.”
