"Okay," he says slowly, clearly not buying her story. He points to Asha. "How did you get here?"
"Oh, I drove," she says, her voice tinged with something reminiscent of guilt as she looks away.
My eyebrows tug together in confusion before I say, "You don't have a car."
"I borrowed one." She shrugs as she shoves her hands in the back pockets of her jeans.
She stole my damn Bronco.
I look to Preston. "I'm riding back with Fairfield."
He nods and starts toward the bus, and I hold out my hand. "Hand over my keys."
She has the audacity to look offended. "Technically, it's not stealing if I was planning to give it back."
"That's literally the definition of stealing."
"It'sborrowingwithout permission. There's a distinction."
"Yeah, one that holds up real well in court." I step closer, hand still outstretched. "Keys."
She pulls one hand from her pocket, dangling my keys just out of reach. "You're being dramatic. I filled up the tank. Premium, not regular. You should be thanking me."
"Thanking you for committing a felony?"
"It's a misdemeanor at best." Her smile turns sharp. "And you're not going to report me."
"How do you figure?"
"Because then you'd have to admit that you hid her in the woods to sneak off campus."
I step closer, closing the distance that existed once more, catching her off guard and stealing her breath. It takes realstrength not to pull her close and try to go back to the moment that was interrupted, but I manage and snatch my keys back in the process. "You're trouble, sweetheart." I tilt her chin up so her eyes have nowhere to look but into mine. "Don't take what's mine again unless you're ready to pay the price."
Her breath hitches, and I watch her pupils dilate. For a second, I think she might actually back down. Then that defiant spark I've come to know too well flares back to life.
"And what price would that be?" she whispers, not pulling away from my grip.
The kind that involves me finally admitting what we both already know.
But I don't say that. Instead, I let my thumb brush along her jawline, just once, just enough to make my point before I step back and leave her standing there, looking dazed and furious and something else I'm not ready to name yet.
"Guess you'll have to steal from me again to find out," I say over my shoulder as I head toward my truck.
And we both know she will.
SENIOR YEAR
ASHA
I’ve been standing outside his dorm room too long. If I stand here any longer, I’ll make myself late for class. I pull in a long breath and take a step forward, letting my knuckles meet the door before I can overthink it any more.
The Tupperware container feels ridiculous in my hands. I made protein-packed chocolate chip cookies because, of course, I researched what he actually eats instead of just bringing regular cookies like a normal person. Apparently, I can't do anything halfway when it comes to him.
I hear footsteps grow closer, and then the door swings open, and he’s there.
God, it isn't fair. How is it possible that he looks better every time I see him? His dark hair is perfectly messy in that way that suggests he's been running his hands through it, and there's stubble along his jaw that wasn't there in AP biology yesterday. He's wearing a fitted black t-shirt that clings to shoulders that have definitely gotten broader since freshman year, and I can see the definition of his arms, the way his muscles shift as he grips the doorframe.
His eyes widen. "What?—"
