At all.
She snorts, immediately covering her mouth, trying to hold the laugh back. I look up at her from where I am, pushing myself back up.
God, she’s so cute.
“It’s harder than it looked,” I mutter under my breath, a quiet laugh slipping out with it.
The automatic garden light suddenly flicks on, flooding the space with brightness. She whispers something I don’t catch and bolts toward the car. I follow without questioning it.
What’s the deal? Why are we running?
I need to ask.
We get to the car, both of us jumping in and closing the doors, catching our breath. My gaze falls at her right away. She’s wearing that same shy smile.
Something spreads through me, as if my body is about to melt. I sink back into the seat without breaking eye contact. There’s no way she’s tired. She's glowing.
“So what’s the deal with that running? Is your mom keeping you under lock and key?” I raise my eyebrows.
She laughs at me.
Yes. That’s it. I needed that more than I thought.
“I know it looks ridiculous,” she says, still smiling, “but she’s working long shifts and she’s really tired. When I wake her up, she can’t fall asleep anymore and gets irritated the next morning. That’s all.”
I nod slowly as she relaxes into the seat, shoulders dropping, the tension leaving her body.
She seems comfortable. She’s comfortable withme.
“So what did you do after school?” I ask, voice quieter now, Radiohead playing low in the background, filling the silence instead of breaking it.
“I was just reading. I read a lot.” She laces her fingers together and tucks her hands between her thighs like she’s trying to warm them.
“Are you cold?”
“No,” she says, too quickly. “Nervous,” she adds.
I swallow.
What is she doing to me?
I keep looking at her, but the words don’t come. Her gaze flickers around the car, anywhere but me.
“In a good way or in a bad way?” I ask hesitantly, afraid of the answer.
She glances out the window instead of answering, like she’s buying herself time, then turns back to me. My body is angled toward her now, shoulder pressed lightly against the door, head resting against the window.
Her hair isn’t tied up into a ponytail tonight. It falls everywhere in messy waves, catching the light in a way that makes it impossible not to look at it. Some strands are golden, some more dark.
I want to lean in. Breathe it in.
That would be weird as fuck.
“You look like you didn’t sleep much,” she says softly. She always sounds like she actually cares.
“I had a long day,” I reply quietly.
“Bad one?”
