His smile grew. “I know. I just loved the way you wrinkled your nose and pretended not to care. Coming to school got better so that I could mess with the hot, rich girl who had an attitude.”
It was my turn to smile. “Hot?”
“It’s a fact,” he said simply.
I’m high on the simple compliment.
David cupped my cheek, bringing us back to something more serious. “You treated me like a human. Like someone normal. One of the other kids.”
It hurt that he was grateful for something like that. Something everyone deserved to experience, especially as a child.
“Just not soon enough,” I murmured.
He hummed in disagreement. “Yara, you’re right on time.”
23
Almost a week passeduntil I saw David again. During that time, we barely exchanged more than a few texts with each other. The busyness of university, something I typically thrived in, became an annoying hindrance.
So, I was practically a baby deer, stumbling over my knobby knees when he picked me up for dinner. I was severely out of practice at conversing with him. And severely anxious for his attention. The sky was a reddish pink, and the trees above the sidewalk cast long shadows over the cement when he finally pulled into the lot.
“Hey,” David said as he stepped out of his car. The freshly-ironed creases in his button-down were endearing. He was freshly shaven, his jawline sharp.
I’d been waiting for him to pick me up for twenty minutes. Sitting inside had become impossible, so I’d come downstairs in the hope that the cold air and real world would center me. It didn’t. The fact wouldn’t be so frustrating if David didn’t look so unbothered. He’d probably spent his day like he usually did: unfazed by the knowledge he was seeing me later. He probably ate his breakfast without keeping an eye outfor a specific text notification. I bet he went to class without wondering if I was in the student center.
“How long have you been out here?” He went to the passenger side of the car. And just like when he picked me up to go to my parents’ house, he opened the door for me.
“Not long.” I refused to give any indication of dwindling sanity. “You?”
It was a nonsensical question that lost me credibility in a heartbeat. David smiled, knowing.
“You could have texted if you missed me,” he said. “I would have made time for you.”
David rested his hands on top of the car door like he had all the time in the world.
“I didn’t want your time.” I placed a hand in between his, as I paused before getting in.
“Then what was it you wanted?”
“Nothing you’re willing to give,” I said after a second.
“And how do you know that?”
I shrugged. “I know you.”
I slipped into the car before he could respond. And David didn’t offer any protest until he was back in the driver’s seat.
“You don’t know what I’d give you.” He started the car and pulled onto the road. There was a soft hum of pop music playing and a warm cup of coffee from the school’s cafe in the cup holder. I didn’t have to ask if it was for me because my name was already on it, written in cursive.
“Many things, I’m sure,” I mused under my breath. “The first and most frequent being a headache.”
He laughed. “What’s it going to take to get you in a better mood for dinner?”
“I’m in a great mood.” I picked up the cup and took a tentative sip. It was the perfect temperature.
David looked at me for a second. I gestured for him to keep his gaze on the road.
“Why do you look so nervous anytime you’re in a car?” he asked. “Is it because your driver sucks?”
